He made a brief address, including Jeff and me as partners in his enterprise, and with another bow presented this.

Again his gift was accepted and, as before, passed out of sight.
"If they were only younger," he muttered between his teeth.

"What on earth is a fellow to say to a regiment of old Colonels like this ?" In all our discussions and speculations we had always unconsciously assumed that the women, whatever else they might be, would be young.
Most men do think that way, I fancy.
"Woman" in the abstract is young, and, we assume, charming.

As they get older they pass off the stage, somehow, into private ownership mostly, or out of it altogether.

But these good ladies were very much on the stage, and yet any one of them might have been a grandmother.
We looked for nervousness--there was none.
For terror, perhaps--there was none.
For uneasiness, for curiosity, for excitement--and all we saw was what might have been a vigilance committee of women doctors, as cool as cucumbers, and evidently meaning to take us to task for being there.
Six of them stepped forward now, one on either side of each of us, and indicated that we were to go with them.