the
eleventh time, and it would take him perhaps six months of impeccable
behavior to regain the promise of a share in the estate. To say nothing
of the daybed in the living room for Em and himself.

"Boy!" called Gramps.

"Coming, sir." Lou hurried back into the living room and handed Gramps
the will.

"Pen!" said Gramps.

* * * * *

He was instantly offered eleven pens, one from each couple.

"Not _that_ leaky thing," he said, brushing Lou's pen aside. "Ah,
_there's_ a nice one. Good boy, Willy." He accepted Willy's pen. That
was the tip they had all been waiting for. Willy, then--Lou's
father--was the new favorite.

Willy, who looked almost as young as Lou, though he was 142, did a poor
job of concealing his pleasure. He glanced shyly at the daybed, which
would become his, and from which Lou and Emerald would have to move back
into the hall, back to the worst spot of all by the bathroom door.

Gramps missed none of the high drama he had authored and he gave his own
familiar role everything he had. Frowning and running his finger along
each line, as though he were seeing the will for the first time, he read
aloud in a deep portentous monotone, like a bass note on a cathedral
organ.

[Illustration]

"I, Harold D. Ford, residing in Building 257 of Alden Village, New York
City, Connecticut, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my
last Will and Testament, revoking any and all former wills and
codicils by me at any time heretofore made." He blew his nose
importantly and went on, not missing a word, and repeating many for
emphasis--repeating in particular his ever-more-elaborate specifications
for a funeral.

At the end of these specifications, Gramps was so choked with emotion
that Lou thought he might have forgotten why he'd brought out the will
in the first place. But Gramps heroically brought his powerful emotions
under control and, after erasing for a full minute, began to write and
speak at the same time. Lou could have spoken his lines for him, he had
heard them so often.

"I have had many heartbreaks ere leaving this vale of tears for a better
land," Gramps said and wrote. "But the deepest hurt of all has been
dealt me by--" He looked around the group, trying to remember who the
malefactor was.

Everyone looked helpfully at Lou, who held up his hand resignedly.

Gramps nodded, remembering, and completed the sentence--"my
great-grandson, Louis J. Ford."