So, you see, we will have reared a family of thirty-
three children by that time, and we will never be without little
toddlers and prattlers. I am fifty-three now, Mr. Flanders. We are
reasonably sure to have twenty-two additions to the family. The
pitiful part of getting old and decrepit lies in the fact that one's
children grow up, get married, leave home--or die--and that is just
what we are trying to guard against. On my seventy-fifth birthday,
there will be a fine, healthy two-year-old babe crying and goo-gooing
for my especial benefit, and by working backwards in your figuring you
can also credit us with a three-year-old, a four-year-old, and so on
up the line. Naturally we will have lost a goodly number of the first-
comers, but we provide against a deficit, so to speak, by this little
plan of ours. Some of the girls may not turn out as well as we expect,
however, so there is the possibility that they may remain with us to
the end, enjoying single-blessedness. The boys, of course, will
marry."
"It is splendid, Mr. Bingle," said Flanders enthusiastically.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152