Still, he could not shake off the rather ghastly feeling that Eddie was secretly praying that his days were numbered.
One day at the Club he complained of a severe pain in his back, and the very next day he was shocked to find his son-in-law dressed in sombre black with a strip of crape around his arm. Immediately on seeing the General in his usual state of health, Eddie solemnly removed the band from his sleeve and, carefully rolling it up, stuck it into his waistcoat pocket.
"I'm saving it for a rainy day," said Eddie with a cold-blooded smile.
"Good Heaven!" said the General, and at once felt the pain return to his back.
"Have you seen Martha lately?" asked Eddie, tapping the bell on the table.
"Oh, yes," said the General, settling a little deeper into his chair. "She is looking remarkably well."
"Do you know what she weighs at present?"
"Of course not. She took the scales over to your house. Besides, I don't care a hang."
"Day before yesterday she weighed two hundred and ninety-eight pounds." His voice rose to a shrill screech. "It's a blamed outrage!" He dropped his chin into his hands and went on muttering vaguely, his eyes glued to the top button of the General's waistcoat.
"By Jove, she IS doing well."