CHAPTER XVII
DR. GOOSE’S LECTURE
“Light house,” said the Great Huge Bear; after which remark he dropped off into another of his half-naps.
The audience that gathered to hear Doctor Goose was small indeed. There was Buddie, who really wished to hear the lecture; the Donkey, who would as soon hear it as not; the Rabbit, who was present under protest; Doctor Fox, wearing his most critical air, and prepared to contradict every third statement; the Bear, who would as soon be dozing there as elsewhere; the Yellow Dog, who came out of curiosity; and the Loon, who never missed a chance to shriek “Hear! hear!”
“Birds and quadrupeds,” began Doctor Goose, “my topic this week is The Evolution of—”
“Fore!”
A ball driven by the Golf Lynx carried away the Doctor’s manuscript.
“I’ll put a stop to that!” cried the Rabbit, starting after the Golf Lynx. But the Lynx saw him coming and discreetly took to his heels. Meantime Buddie had recovered the scattered manuscript, and Doctor Goose proceeded, as if there had been no interruption:
“—the Man Story. It is impossible to fix the date of the first man story, because we do not know precisely at what time geese began to write.”
“Literature,” interrupted Doctor Fox, “began with the Fox family.”
“You are mistaken, my dear colleague,” returned the lecturer, warmly. “Literature began with the goose-quill.”