Mossy, that he promised to call and see his son;
"perhaps;" "pretty soon;" "probably."
Dr. Mossy, sitting one February morning among his specimens and books of
reference, finishing a thrilling chapter on the cuticle, too absorbed to
hear a door open, suddenly realized that something was in his light,
and, looking up, beheld General Villivicencio standing over him.
Breathing a pleased sigh, he put down his pen, and, rising on tiptoe,
laid his hand upon his father's shoulder, and lifting his lips like a
little wife, kissed him.
"Be seated, papa," he said, offering his own chair, and perching on the
desk.
The General took it, and, clearing his throat, gazed around upon the
jars and jars with their little Adams and Eves in zooelogical gardens.
"Is all going well, papa?" finally asked Dr. Mossy.
"Yes."
Then there was a long pause.
"'Tis a beautiful day," said the son.
"Very beautiful," rejoined the father.
"I thought there would have been a rain, but it has cleared off," said
the son.
"Yes," responded the father, and drummed on the desk.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340