Stuffy had always wondered why the Old Gentleman spoke his speech rather sadly. He did not know that it was because he was wishing every time that he had a son to succeed him. A son who would come there after he was gone. It would be a son who would stand proud and strong before some subsequent Stuffy, and say, " In memory of my father." Then it would be an Institution.

But the Old Gentleman had no relatives. He lived in rented rooms in one of the decayed old family brownstone mansions in one of the quiet streets east of the park. In the winter he raised fuchsias in a little conservatory the size of a steamer trunk. In the spring he walked in the Easter parade. In the summer he lived at a farmhouse in the New Jersey hills and sat in a wicker armchair. He would speak of a butterfly, the ornithoptera amphrisius, that he hoped to find some day. In the autumn he fed Stuffy a dinner. These were the Old Gentleman's occupations.

Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute stewing and helpless in his own self-pity. The Old Gentleman's eyes were bright with the giving pleasure. His face was getting more lined each year, but his little black necktie was in as jaunty a bow as ever, and the linen was beautiful and white. His gray mustache was curled carefully at the ends. Then Stuffy made a noise that sounded like peas bubbling in a pot. Speech was intended and as the Old Gentleman had heard the sounds nine times before, he rightly construed them into Stuffy's old formula of acceptance.

 "Thank you, sir. I'll go with you, and much obliged. I'm very hungry, sir."

The coma of repletion had not prevented from entering Stuffy's mind the conviction that he was the basis of an Institution. His Thanksgiving appetite was not his own. It belonged by all the sacred rights of established custom. It was not by the actual Statute of Limitations to this kind old gentleman who had preempted it. True, America is free, but in order to establish tradition someone must be a repetend. In other words, it must be a repeating decimal. The heroes are not all heroes of steel and gold. See one here that wielded only weapons of iron, badly silvered, and tin.

The Old Gentleman led his annual protege southward to the restaurant and to the table where the feast had always occurred. They were recognized.

"Here comes the old guy," said a waiter, "he brings that same bum to a meal every Thanksgiving."

The Old Gentleman sat across the table glowing like a smoked pearl at his corner stone of future ancient Tradition. The waiters heaped the table with holiday food. Stuffy, with a sigh that was mistaken for hunger's expression, raised a knife and fork and carved for himself a crown of imperishable bay.

No more valiant hero ever fought his way through the ranks of an enemy. Turkey, chops, soups, vegetables, and pies, disappeared before him as fast as they could be served. Gorged nearly to the uttermost when he entered the restaurant, the smell of food had almost caused him to lose his honor as a gentleman. However, he rallied like a true knight. He saw the look of beneficent happiness on the Old Gentleman's face. It was a happier look than even the fuchsias and the ornithoptera amphrisius had ever brought to it. He had not the heart to see it wane.

In an hour Stuffy leaned back with a battle won. "Thank you kindly, sir," he puffed like a leaky steam pipe. "Thank you kindly for a hearty meal." Then he arose heavily with glazed eyes and started toward the kitchen. A waiter turned him about like a top and pointed him toward the door. The Old Gentleman carefully counted out $1.30 in silver change leaving three nickels for the waiter.

They parted as they did each year at the door. The Old Gentleman was going south, and Stuffy went north.

Around the first corner Stuffy turned, and stood for one minute. Then he seemed to puff out his rags as an owl puffs out his feathers and fell to the sidewalk like a sunstricken horse.

When the ambulance came the young surgeon and the driver groaned softly at his weight. Stuffy and his two dinners went to the hospital. There they stretched him on a bed and began to test him for strange diseases with the hope of getting a chance at some problem with the bare steel.

And then an hour later, another ambulance brought the Old Gentleman. They laid him on another bed and spoke of an appendicitis for he looked good for the bill.

Pretty soon one of the young doctors met one of the young nurses whose eyes he liked, and stopped to chat with her about the cases.

"That nice old gentleman over there, now,"  he said, "you wouldn't think that was a case of almost starvation. Proud old family, I guess. He told me he hadn't eaten a thing for three days."

Note

Only spelling mistakes, if any, in the above passage have been corrected. No other corrections, including grammatical, have been made so that the originality of the passage is maintained.