Mister Gats's Tears

Mister Gats was on the point of collapse, so I took him into the music room and made him sit down while I sent for something to eat. But he wouldn't eat, and the glass of milk spilled from his trembling hand. He began to pull so incessantly at his sparse gray beard that I had difficulty in getting off his coat. His eyes, seeing nothing, moved ceaselessly about the room. It was a mad man, he said. He must have been mad. Wouldn't he like some coffee? I urged him. I'm all right now, mister Caraway. Well, I'm allright now. Where have they got Jimmy?