"And you're going off without opening the rest of your mail—part of it arrived two days ago. There might be something important."
"I have an appointment with Miss Stillwater. That is the most important thing at present."
"Why—what—where are you going?"
"Well, if you must know, Uncle Nelson, I am invited to help her catch pollywogs down here by the lake. She does not like to be kept waiting. I'm in a great hurry, Uncle Nelson. Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He rushed out of the room.
Lord Stafford sank into a chair, holding his sister's letter.
"Well, I don't know what to make of Thurston. It really looks as though that little thing has bewitched him—that little blonde thing—it's too absurd!—ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!—she's clever, though!—she runs the entire tribe of them—mother, father and grandmother. She can turn Thurston round her little finger—em—en! Perhaps I ought to devise some means of getting him away from here. I promised his mother to look after him. But then the hunting is just about to commence, and I've been looking forward to it—so long—besides, what would Mrs. Bunker say?"
Catching pollywogs was one of Indiana's favorite recreations. She kept them in bottles for the pleasure of seeing them turn into frogs.
Catching Pollywogs
"Look at this little one! How beautifully green and speckled!" She held the little squirming, slippery thing fondly in her hand.