e got to die some time, and it's better to die
when one's sick than when one's well. I'm very sick--as sick as I shall
ever be. I hope you don't want to prove that I shall ever be worse than
this? That would be too bad. You don't? Well then."

Having made this excellent point he became quiet; but the next time that
Ralph was with him he again addressed himself to conversation. The
nurse had gone to her supper and Ralph was alone in charge, having just
relieved Mrs. Touchett, who had been on guard since dinner. The room was
lighted only by the flickering fire, which of late had become necessary,
and Ralph's tall shadow was projected over wall and ceiling with an
outline constantly varying but always grotesque.

"Who's that with me--is it my son?" the old man asked.

"Yes, it's your son, daddy."

"And is there no one else?"

"No one else."

Mr. Touchett said nothing for a while; and then, "I want to talk a
little," he went on.

"Won't it tire you?" Ralph demurred.

"It won't matter if it does. I shall have a long rest. I want to talk
about YOU."

Ralph had drawn nearer to the bed; he sat leaning forward with his hand
on his father's. "You had better select a brighter topic."

"You were always bright; I used to be proud of your brightness. I should
like so much to think you'd do something."

"If you leave us," said Ralph, "I shall do nothing but miss you."

"That's just what I don't want; it's what I want to talk about. You must
get a new interest."

"I don't want a new interest, daddy. I have more old ones than I know
what to do with."

The old man lay there looking at his son; his face was the face of the
dying, but his eyes were the eyes of Daniel Touchett. He seemed to be
reckoning over Ralph's interests. "Of course you have your mother," he
said at last. "You'll take care of her."

"My mother will always take care of herself," Ralph returned.

"Well," said his father, "perhaps as she grows older she'll need a
little help."

"I shall not see that. She'll outlive me."

"Very likely she will; but that's no reason--!" Mr. Touchett let his
phrase die away in a helpless but not quite querulous sigh and remained
silent again.

"Don't trouble yourself about us," said his son, "My mother and I get on
very well together, you know."

"You get on by always being apart; that's not natural."

"If you leave us we shall probably see more of each other."

"Well," the old man observed with wandering irrelev