"Aunt Jane is reading aloud
a report of something or other, and Mr. Baxter looks so bored. He
yawned like a chasm when I went in."
"Perhaps you disturbed him in the middle of a nap," suggested
Alan.
"Maybe I did. I don't blame him for getting sleepy," responded
Polly pityingly. "It all seemed to be about convict labor and
penal servitude and such things. I shouldn't wonder if something
was the matter in Russia."
Then they were silent, watching the lazy shadows from the full
moon creep over the lawn, till there came a footstep on the walk
and a voice called,--
"So you are all making the most of the moonlight, are you?"
"Oh, Papa Adams!" exclaimed Polly joyfully. "Home so early?"
"Yes," answered the doctor, as he dropped into the chair next
Alan; "and I'm going to play all the rest of the evening. How
comes on our future doctor?"
"Doctor!" echoed Polly. "He said to-night that he'd rather be an
undertaker than anything else."
"Why, how's that?" said the doctor, laughing. "It isn't a week
since Polly told me you were going to follow in my footsteps."
"Oh, Polly has doctor on the brain, just now," answered the boy.
"She's started up Jessie on the subject, and they do nothing but
talk of pills and skeletons.
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