PETER. Then why tell me?

DR. MACPHERSON. When I cured you of that cold--wet flowerbeds--two days
ago, I made a discovery. [_Seeing_ CATHERINE _enter, he pauses. She is
followed by_ MARTA, _carrying a tray containing coffee and a plate of
waffles_.] Coffee! I told you not to touch coffee, Peter. It's rank
poison.

CATHERINE. Wouldn't you like a cup, Doctor?

PETER. Yes he'll take a cup. He won't prescribe it, but he'll drink it.

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Horrified_.] And hot waffles between meals!

PETER. Yes, he'll take hot waffles, too. [MARTA _goes to get another plate
and more waffles, and_ CATHERINE _follows her_.] Now, Andrew, you can't
tell me that I'm sick. I won't have it. Every day we hear of some old boy
one hundred years of age who was given up by the doctors at twenty. No,
sir! I'm going to live to see children in my house,--Katie's babies
creeping on my old floor; playing with my old watch-dog, Toby. I've
promised myself a long line of rosy Grimms.

DR. MACPHERSON. My God, Peter! That dog is fifteen years old now. Do you
expect nothing to change in your house? Man, you're a home worshipper.
However, I--I see no reason why--[_Lying_.]you shouldn't reach a ripe old
age. [_Markedly, though feigning to treat the subject lightly_.] Er--
Peter, I should like to make a compact with you ... that whoever _does_ go
first--and you're quite likely to outlive me,--is to come back and let the
other fellow know ... and settle the question. Splendid test between old