"I left Dr. Croft's because I've practically recovered and because I never did like hospitals." "But why did the doctor arrange for me to come and fetch you next Wednesday?" "I haven't the least idea. I felt extremely well this morning and I thought I would return home. That's all!" "Couldn't you get a taxi?" I asked. "Perhaps I'd better explain. After lunch I went out for a stroll and noticed one of these motor scooters in a shop-window. It looked very enticing, George. So I entered the shop and inquired. The man got me to try it down the backyard once or twice." "Ah! That's the modern enterprising salesman all over. He didn't care whether you broke your neck or not so long as he got your money." "Nothing of the sort. He thought I wanted it for someone else and even offered to send it." "How perfectly charming of him!" Gran'pa ignored the comment and continued: "It was only after I'd tried it once or twice that I suddenly realized how enjoyable it would be to get one. So I bought it, with the intention of returning to the hospital. On the way back, however, I altered my mind. I don't like that nurse, George. She would only have carried on to me about it if I'd returned on that scooter. So I changed my mind--and came home instead. . . ." "Then neither the doctor nor the nurse knows where you are?" I gasped. "No! You might ring up after dinner and tell them." "_You_ might!" "Very well, George!" he answered, affably. "Don't let us quarrel over trifles." I gazed at him, pensively. "Do you attribute all this superabundance of energy to the--glands?" I asked. "I think they've helped. I feel fitter than I've done for years." He certainly looked it. The following morning I handed him my copy of _The Daily Sketch_, on the front page of which was a large photograph of Gran'pa speeding down Regent Street on his scooter. "You'll be pleased to find yourself in the papers already," I remarked, dryly. "You don't say so!" "Yes, I do. But it's nothing to what I _think_!" "Mollikins!" he cried with the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old schoolboy. "Come and look at this!" She darted to his side and together they pored over the pictorial journalist's idea of "news." Before I left for town that morning, I took Nanny aside. "For Heaven's sake," I warned her, "keep an eye on those two and see that they don't get into mischief while I'm away." CHAPTER V THE DUG-OUT IN THE GARDEN