"Aw, q-q-quit it, fellows, and g-g-g-give me that!"

begged Fudge shame-facedly. "I just did it for f-f-fun. It d-d-dropped out of my p-p-p——"

But "pocket" was too much for Fudge in his present state of mind, and he gave up the effort and tried to get the sheet of paper away. He succeeded finally, by the time they had reached Lafayette Street, where their ways parted, and tore it to small bits and dropped it into someone's hedge. Way and Will departed joyfully, and until they were out of earshot Fudge could hear them declaiming the "Ode to Spring." He went home a prey to a deep depression. He feared that he had by no means heard the last of the unfortunate poetical effort. And, as the future proved, his fears were far from groundless.