"I know what Askew will
say and what should have been done long ago."
"An operation?" asked his father.
"Yes, sir, an operation."
"Too late!"
"Well," said John, "he gets no worse; a week or two will make no
difference, I presume."
"None," said Dr. McGregor.
"It may," said Tom.
"Well, it may have to wait. Just now there is a very serious question.
Aunt Ann made last night the wild suggestion that the Colonel might be
amused if we had one of those rummage-sales with which she used to
delight the village. Uncle Jim at once declared it to be the thing he
would like best. Aunt Ann said we must see about it at once. Her
satisfaction in finding an amusement which the Colonel fancied was really
childlike. Leila said nothing, nor did I. In fact, the proposal came
about when I happened unluckily to say what a fine chance Uncle Sam had
for a rummage-sale after a forced march or a fight. I recall having said
much the same thing long ago in a letter to Leila."
"Then there's nothing to be done just now, John," remarked Tom McGregor,
"but I cannot conceive of anything more likely to affect badly a
disordered brain."
The older man was silent until John asked, "Is it worth while to talk to
Aunt Ann about it--advise against it?"
"Quite useless, John.
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