“If I think so, I will say so. Isn’t that the idea? You are trying it on the dog to see if it goes?”
“If you think it is rubbish, don’t say anything.”
“How silly! If you are spending your time on trash, you ought to know it, and get over it, and begin to write sense.”
“I feel like one of the Professor’s slugs,” he muttered.
“Better try us on the simplest one.”
“Well, I will read you ‘Success.’”
She ran downstairs, and he followed, to the piazza.
There was no sign of the Professor.
“Ardelia,” called Bambi, “where is the Professor?”
“I don’t know, ma'am. I seen him headed for the garden.”
“Professor Parkhurst, come in here!” Bambi called. “We are to hear Jarvis’s play.”
“Oh, that is it. I couldn’t remember why I was placed in that chair, and Ardelia couldn’t remember. So it occurred to me that I had forgotten my trowel,” he said. He put the trowel, absent-mindedly, in the tea basket, and took the seat arranged for Jarvis.
“Here, you sit in your regular seat,” Bambi objected, hauling him up.
