them from being bored to death. I understand that anybody who has an
appendix nowadays is looked upon as exceedingly vulgar and is not even
tolerated in good society. As for a man having a sound liver,—well, that
kind of a liver is absolutely inexcusable. Nobody has one to-day if he can
afford to have the other kind. Good livers always have livers,—and so do
bad livers, for that matter. But, now, let us return to the heart. You are
quite sure that Anne loves you better than she loves herself? That's quite
important, you know. I have found that people who say that they love some
one better than anybody else in the world, usually forget themselves,—that
is to say, they overlook themselves. How about Anne?"

"Rather epigrammatic, aren't you, granddaddy? I have Anne's word for it,
that's all. She wouldn't marry me if she loved any one more than she does
me,—not even herself, as you put it. I am sure if I were Anne I should
love myself better than all the rest of the world."

"A very pretty speech, my boy. You should make an exceptionally
fashionable doctor. You will pardon me for appearing to be cynical, but
you see I am a very old man and somewhat warped,—bent, you might say, in
my attitude toward the tender passion as it is practised to-day. Still, I
shall take your word for it. Anne loves you devotedly, and you love her.
The only thing necessary, therefore, is a professional practice, or, in
other words, a practical profession. I am sure you will achieve both. You
have my best wishes. I love you, my boy. You are the only thing left in
life for me to love. Your father was my only son. He would have been a
great man, I am sure, if he had not been my son. I spoiled him. I think
that is the reason why he died so young. Now, my dear grandson, I am not
going to make the mistake with his son that I made with my own. I intend
that you shall fight your own battles. Among other things, you will have
to fight pretty hard for Anne. That is a mere detail, of course. You are a