"Very well," said Jasper, coolly, "since you are determined to do
nothing for his relief, I shall take it upon myself to summon the
doctor." He stepped to a table a bit further off, and touched the
electric button back of it.

"Here, don't do that," remonstrated Tom, springing forward. But it was
too late, and the steward who attended to calls on the library stepped
in.

"It isn't the hour for giving out books," he began.

Tom was stamping his foot impatiently, and scowling at Jasper,
alternately casting longing glances out the nearest port-hole.

"It isn't books we want," said Jasper, quickly, "but this old
gentleman"--whose head was now heavily sunken on his breast, and whose
cheek was quite white--"appears to be very ill, and to need the
doctor."

"Is that so?" The steward leaned over and peered into the old face.
"Well, he doesn't look just right, and that's a fact. Is he your
father?"

"Oh, no," said Jasper, quickly, "I don't know who he is. But, do hurry,
for he's sick, and needs the doctor at once."

"I'll get Dr. Jones." Off ran the steward toward the surgeon's cabin.

"See what you've done," cried Tom, in a towering passion. "Kicked up a
pretty mess--when I tell you I've seen my Grandfather just as bad a