The Man Who Lived in a Shoe

by Henry James Forman

"No!" growls the eccentric uncle. "Not a bit of it. I want company while I eat."

Alicia laughs softly.

"But who is going to prepare the other tray, while Griselda is so busy?"

"Don't care," mutters the grouchy invalid. "I want company. If I let you go now, will you bring up your own luncheon and eat it here?"

"But that makes such a lot of dishes, Uncle Ranny."

"Don't care. I'm obstinate, fussy, irritable, sick. Have to be humored. Ask the doctor!"

Alicia peals a delicious silvery laugh and then I see a film as of tears in her eyes.

"All right—I'll humor you, Uncle Ranny. But I should think you'd be sick of seeing me round by this time!"

"Am sick," growl I. "Get a colored nurse to-morrow!" Whereupon I hear Alicia's laughter all the way down the stairs.

I wonder why Griselda's Scotch broth tastes so amazingly delicious, these days. Is it possible that an invalid's palate is more sensitive to culinary virtues and savors? I must ask the doctor.