This time the ball carried away the lecturer’s spectacles, and confusion reigned. The Golf Lynx took to his heels, and after him raced all of Doctor Goose’s audience except Buddie, who remained to help search for the spectacles. But hunt high, hunt low, they were nowhere to be found.
“Never mind; I can get another pair,” said Doctor Goose. “Perhaps you’d like to take the lecture home and read it.”
“Thank you,” replied Buddie, accepting the manuscript rather doubtfully. “Shan’t you want it again?”
“Oh dear, no. I have stacks and stacks of them. I write nearly all the time. But it is so hard to get people to listen.” Doctor Goose sighed and looked about him pensively. The world was at play; nobody cared about lectures. “Good afternoon,” he said, and walked sadly away.
“Poor Goose!” said Buddie, sitting down under a tree to examine the manuscript.
“My, what hard words! I wonder what they mean. ‘P-s-y-c-h-o-l-o-g-y.’ That can’t be right; there ought to be a letter between the ‘p’ and the ‘s.’ ‘P-s’ doesn’t spell anything. Here’s another big word—‘I-n-t-e-l-l-e-c-t-u-a-l-i-t-y.’ That looks all right, and I suppose it means a lot.”
So she turned the pages of the manuscript, which was as easy to read as print, until she grew weary of spelling out words and wondering what they meant, and began to look about for something more interesting.
Presently she saw the Donkey, the Rabbit, and the Yellow Dog returning from the pursuit of the Golf Lynx.
“The next thing, I suppose,” she said, “is to find out why the Rabbit wabbles his nose.”