There never came a day when he was not thankful for the soft comfort of his chair.

There never came a day when he was the same Old Man who joshed the boys and scolded them and threatened them.

The day was always coming--of course!--when his back would quit aching if he walked to the stable and back without a long rest between, but it never actually arrived.
So, imperceptibly but surely, the Old Man began to grow old.

The thin spot on top of his head grew shiny, so that the Kid noticed it and made blunt comments upon the subject.

His rheumatism was not his worst foe, now.