“More’s the pity,” said Titus, unfeelingly. “You’d have more sense if you were. Now, listen to me. Grandfather wants to keep quiet. If anyone comes to see him put him or her in the parlor and come for me. If you let anyone upstairs without orders from us I’ll give you a slap compared with which Mrs. Blodgett’s would be a caress. Do you understand?” and he took the old man by the shoulder and gently shook him.
Higby smiled through his tears. “B-b-bless you, Master Titus. You want to m-m-make ole Higby laugh.”
“Do you understand?” asked the boy.
The old man nodded.
“Put your handkerchief in your pocket,” commanded Titus.
Higby did so.
“Stand up, walk out into the hall, strut a little, if you can.”
Higby, with a wan smile, tried to strut, and to such good effect that Titus, taken with a sudden fit of laughter and choking, was obliged to retire behind the pantry door. Presently he came out.
“Higby, repeat after me: ‘A bachelor’s life is a lively life.’”
“A-a-a ba-ba-bachelor’s life is a l-l-lovely life.”