and she bent forward to give him the full length of the lines,
saying indulgently,--

"The mischief is done already, Job, so you may as well have your
lunch, for you can't tip us up any farther." And she sat there
quite patiently, in spite of her strained position, until Job had
devoured the mullein in a leisurely fashion. Then she reined him
back into the road, remarking, "It isn't fair for poor Job to do
all the work and not have any of the fun, is it?"

"I'll tell you, Mrs. Adams," suggested Alan; "let's all get out
and put Job into the carriage, and draw him a mile or two, just to
rest him."

"You shan't make fun of Job!" said Polly indignantly. "You didn't
like what Jean said to you, and now you go and say, Job is o-l-d
and s-l-o-w."

"What in the world do you spell the words for, Poll?" asked Jean.
"I never have been able to make out."

"Why, Job knows what you are saying, as well as anybody, and may
be he is sensitive about it," replied Polly, to the great
amusement of the girls.

"We might read 'Pilgrim's Progress' to him, then," said Jean
wickedly. "Perhaps it would teach him to go ahead, if he knows so
much."

"Poor old Job! his going days are nearly over, aren't they, Joby?"