"Is it possible!" ejaculated Randolph Rover, gazing at his nephew incredulously.
"Sure thing. The pumpkin looked to be good, too. They had a lot of pumpkin pies set around it, just for an advertisement."
"Thomas, did you measure that pumpkin?"
"No; why should I?"
"Then how do you know it was eight feet high and ten feet across?"
"Why, Uncle Randolph, I didn't say the pump kin was eight feet high and ten feet across. I said I saw it in a restaurant window eight feet high and ten feet across," and Tom drew down the corners of his mouth soberly.
"Oh, Tom, that's the worst ever!" cried Sam.
"You ought to be made to walk home for that," added Dick.
"Thomas! Thomas! you are as bad as ever!" said Mr. Rover, with a sigh. "But I might have been on my guard. I know there are no pumpkins of that size."
"Uncle Randolph, you'll have to forgive me," said Tom, putting his hand affectionately on his relative's shoulder. "I really couldn't help it—I am just bubbling over to think that school days are over and I won't have to do any studying for several months to come."
