"Broken up about it?" he demanded abruptly.
What my gesture proclaimed to Dibdin I don't know. For me it expressed all that I had passed through during the last ten days.
"No, you're right. No use," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Sit tight, my boy. Courage—the only thing! Now, good-by," he wrung my hand, "and God bless you."
"Same to you, old boy, and best of luck."
And now the only intimate friend I possess has gone and left a hole in the atmosphere as large as Central Park.
CHAPTER VI
An odd look of overt approval I have surprised of late in Griselda's eyes causes me a peculiar twinge of regret. It shows that new conditions have overwhelmingly ousted the old. Griselda never troubled to approve of me before. I have no desire for any change in Griselda, even for the better.
I have been successful, however, I am bound to record. I have found an outdoor school for Ranny and Laura in Macdougal Street near Washington Square, and a nearby kindergarten for Jimmie. The girl Alicia is able to take Ranny and Laura to Macdougal Street on the way to her own public school. Jimmie, who does not go until later in the morning, is a problem. Thus far I have been conducting him to his kindergarten myself. But obviously that cannot continue, despite the fact that Jimmie, seeing his elder brother depart with two girls, turns to me with a look of inimitable superiority and observes:
"We men must stick together, mustn't we, Uncle Ranny."
I gravely agree with him on the general policy, though I aim to forestall future trouble by indicating that expediency often governs these things.