Of course Will was very happy at this prospect; and, because he must enter Princeton in September, he devoted most of the days that remained to him in driving or walking with Annabel.
One afternoon they met the doctor striding down the road with his stout cane in one hand and his medicine case in the other.
He halted before Annabel and Will, scowling dreadfully.
“What’s this I hear about your going to college?” he asked the boy.
“It’s true.” said Will, smiling. “I’m afraid, Doctor, I’ll have to give up growing mushrooms.”
“You will, eh? Well, sir, what’s going to become of those poor grandchildren of mine?” growled the doctor.
“If they are ever in need, sir, I’ll agree to support them.”
“In that event, we’ll dissolve partnership,” said the old fellow, less gruffly. Then he added:
“Put out your tongue!”
“What for?” asked Will