You've got his remains?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure they are his, and not somebody else's?"
"Oh, perfectly sure. Samples, I mean. Not all of him."
"Samples?"
"Yes--in baskets. Some time you will be going home; and if you wouldn't
mind taking them along--"
"Who? I?"
"Yes--certainly. I don't mean now; but after a while; after--but look
here, would you like to see them?"
"No! Most certainly not. I don't want to see them."
"O, very well. I only thought--hey, where are you going, dear?"
"Out to dinner, papa."
Tracy was aghast. The colonel said, in a disappointed voice:
"Well, I'm sorry. Sho, I didn't know she was going out, Mr. Tracy."
Gwendolen's face began to take on a sort of apprehensive
'What-have-I-done expression.'
"Three old people to one young one--well, it isn't a good team, that's a
fact."
Gwendolen's face betrayed a dawning hopefulness and she said--with a tone
of reluctance which hadn't the hall-mark on it:
"If you prefer, I will send word to the Thompsons that I--"
"Oh, is it the Thompsons? That simplifies it--sets everything right.
We can fix it without spoiling your arrangements, my child. You've got
your heart set on--"
"But papa, I'd just as soon go there some other--"
"No--I won't have it.
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