The grip of his hand was strong and firm, and his voice, too, was steady.
"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr.Thorpe, some time after the greetings.

He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential tone.
His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth,--for even at his age Templeton Thorpe was not a toothless thing.

They were alone in the room.

The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a short respite.
"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden.

"You should have sent for me long ago." "That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten minutes," said Mr.Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
"Don't say it again.