“Two hundred and ten.”
“All right. You have the advantage in weight. I’ll not count it though, if you’ll put me on the bed.”
“Don’t try it, pa,” spoke up Grandmother Sprague. “You might slip and break your leg.”
“Or hurt his pride,” laughed Walter, whose love and respect for his grandfather were almost as keen as was the old man’s love for the stalwart lad.
“Pooh, ma,” the old gentleman retorted a trifle testily. “You don’t suppose I’m so old I can’t take my own grandson across my lap and spank him as he deserves, do you?”
“You might if he would lie still,” replied Mrs. Sprague dryly. “But you and I were born on the same day and so I know just how old you are. You are seventy-seven——”
“And almost as spry as ever I was,” broke in her husband. “I don’t feel a day older than when I was forty. The only thing that troubles me any is that I stub my toe more than I used to.”
“You take my advice and don’t bother with Walter.”
“Well, to please you, ma, I’ll give him a day of grace. But I give you fair warning,” he would add turning to the laughing boy, “that to-morrow at ten-thirty I shall give you what you deserve.”