The room was furnished for the simple needs of the lone occupant.

A fire smouldered in the open grate.
"Now, Uncle Zed, have you forgotten again ?" inquired Mrs.Trent.
"Forgotten what?
I suppose I have, for my memory is not so good as it used to be." "Your memory never was good regarding the day of the year you were born." "Day when I was born?
What, has my birthday come around again?
Well, sure; but I had quite forgotten.

How these birthdays do pile up on one." "How old are you today ?" asked Dorian.
"How old?
Let me see.

I declare, I must be seventy-five." "Isn't he a funny man," whispered Carlia to Mildred, who appeared not to hear the comment, so interested was she in the old man.
"And so you've come to celebrate," went on Uncle Zed, "come to congratulate me that I am one year nearer the grave." "Now, Uncle Zed, you know--" "Yes; I know; forgive me for teasing; I know why you come to wish me well.

It is that I have kept the faith one year more, and that I am twelve months nearer my heavenly reward.