John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair.

“Why, what’s up?” demanded the doctor, a minute later, his fingers on his patient’s galloping pulse.

A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton’s lips.

“Overdose of your—tonic, I guess,” he laughed, as he noted the doctor’s eyes following Pollyanna’s little figure down the driveway.


  By PanEris using Melati.

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