wouldn't hardly believe any one could suffer that way and live. As for
Gramper himself, he had a cough brought on by tobacco that would carry
him off dead one of these days; yes, sir, just like that! And then, to
point his warning, Gramper coughed falsely. Even to the unpractised ear
of his grandson the cough did not ring true. It lacked poignance.

Late that afternoon, when both the old ones slept, he abstracted a pipe,
stuffed it with the rich black flakes and fled with matches to a nook of
charming secrecy in the midst of the lilac clump. Thence arose presently
clouds of smoke from the strongest tobacco money could buy.

At last he had dared something that didn't hurt him. He puffed
valiantly, blowing out the smoke even as Grammer had done. Up to a
certain moment his exaltation was intense, his scared soul expanding to
greater deeds.

Then he coughed rather alarmingly. But that was to be expected. He drew
in another breath of the stuff and coughed again. It was an honest
cough; no doubt about that. Perhaps Gramper's cough had been honest.
Perhaps the pipe he had selected was Gramper's own pipe, the one that
made coughs. He became conscious of something more than throaty
discomfort. Tiny beads of sweat bejewelled his brow, the lilac bush
began to revolve swiftly about him. He must have taken Grammer's pipe
after all--the one that led to lumbago. From revolving with a mere
horizontal motion the lilacs now began also to whirl vertically. He had
eaten a great deal at dinner....

A pallid remnant of himself declined supper that night. Never could he
sit at table again to eat of food. Gramper and Grammer were at first
alarmed and there was talk of sending for a veterinary, the nearest to a