"And this is Mr.John." "Mr.John?
Mr.John?
I don't quite remember you, sir," with a slight shake of the gray head.

"And Donald, lad, you've grown wonderful old, somehow." "It's the years, Jeemes," was the reply.

"The years make us all old, sooner or later." The gardener seemed puzzled, and examined his companions more carefully.

He did not seem to be suffering any pain.

Finally he sighed.
"The dreams confuse me," he said, as if to explain something.