"She can hardly walk. If she keeps on, she won't be able to see, either. Her eyes are almost lost. I screwed up the courage to take a long look at her to-day. She has lost her neck entirely and I haven't the remotest idea where her ears are."
"I—I DO feel sorry for you, Eddie," cried the General, moved by unexpected compunction.
Eddie rambled on. "Sometimes I sit down and actually watch her grow. You can notice, it if you look steadily for a given time."
The two sat stiff and silent for many minutes. Eddie stole a sly glance at his companion's ruddy face.
"You are a remarkably well preserved man, General," he ventured speculatively. "Would you mind telling me your age?"
"I am seventy-one, Eddie, if it is any encouragement to you," said the General eagerly.
"You look good for another ten years," said Eddie hopelessly.
"I am a little worried about my heart," prevaricated the General. He meant to be magnanimous. Eddie did not look up, but his eyes began to blink rapidly. "There is heart disease in the family, you know."
"Then maybe Martha has—er—has—"
"Has what, my son!"