But
in spite of this warning. Miss Roberts had taken up from the table
a pamphlet on prison reform, and announced her intention of
reading it aloud. In vain Mr. Baxter looked about for some way of
escape. Seeing none, he seated himself in the darkest corner of
the room, with a lingering hope that his lapses into dreamland
might pass unnoticed. He was not disappointed. In a few moments,
Aunt Jane had become so absorbed in her subject that she read on
and on, quite unconscious of the fact that her guest, from yawning
behind his hand, and nodding now forward, now backward, and now
sideways, had passed on into a quiet slumber, unbroken by dreams
of restless children and hardened criminals.
But Polly's sudden entrance had roused him, and he propped himself
up anew, with a manful resolve to hold his eyes open, or die.
Unfortunately it was by no means so easy for Mr. Baxter to hold
his mouth shut, and yawn followed yawn, wider and still more wide,
until his hand could no longer cover the opening. And yet Miss
Roberts read on endlessly, remorselessly. Suddenly she was
interrupted by Mr. Baxter who sprang up wildly and, with his body
bent forward, his eyes distended and his mouth wide open, began
plunging distractedly about the room, with both hands to his face,
as if in mortal anguish.
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