"One woman, six girls, and one boy, all to be outwitted by one poor old horse twenty-nine years old! "he exclaimed.
"Now, that's not so!" interposed his wife.
"Job isn't but twenty-three, so don't put any more years on his devoted head."
Dr. Adams laughed. He took a sinful pleasure in reminding his wife of Job's advanced age.
"Twenty-nine last June," he said, as he gave Polly her second piece of meat. "If you are careful of him and keep him for a few years longer, you can sell him out at a high price, to be exhibited as a curiosity."
"Sell Job! Never!" protested Mrs. Adams. "I would almost as soon sell Polly. No money could ever make up for that old fellow's intelligence, and for the real love he gives me."
"Yes," added Alan sympathetically; "and no money could buy his obedience to you, this afternoon, when he was loose."
While the table was being cleared for the dessert, the doctor suddenly turned to his daughter.
"Well, Polly," he asked; "how comes on the reading club?"
"Finely, papa. Why?"