"You know anybody who wasn't?" Gramps said.
"I know some who shouldn't have been, and I know at least one who isn't going again until next year. His name's Delbert Bennett."
"Blasted nonsense!" Gramps snorted. "You doctors ever talk anything 'cept nonsense?"
"Seldom," Dr. Beardsley admitted cheerfully, "but it just so happens that I'm talking sense at present. It isn't too serious, but it will be if you don't take care. The truth is your heart isn't as young as it used to be. With reasonable luck it will last you another twenty years, and I fully expect you'll grow more cussed every year. But right now it needs rest, which means that you're going to take it easy for the next six months. In addition to your regular night's sleep, lie down for at least three hours every day. We'll see after that."
"I never heard so blame much foolishness!" Gramps tried to roar, but he was too weak and could only blink indignantly at Dr. Beardsley.
Gram said quietly but firmly, "He'll do as you say, Doctor."
"Clobber him if he doesn't."
"I will."
Dr. Beardsley packed his stethoscope and sphygmomanometer back in his bag and wrote a prescription, which he handed to Gram.
"There's no emergency about this; the youngster can bring it when he comes home from school tomorrow. After that, see that he takes his medicine according to the directions that will accompany the prescription and refill it before it runs out."