"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?"

"I didn't know but you were tired of it, by this time, and wanted
something else."

"Oh, no; we have such good times," said Jean enthusiastically.
"And if we gave it up, you never would get your stockings darned,