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unnaturally distended his throat and teh, Mr Schofield reht, I

reckon, but so

it" There was no response, and he went on hurriedly:

"'But there he saw the little rill--'"

The poet paused to say, with another ait out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em It runs on

like this: "'--Little rill

That curved and spattered around the hill'

"I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so?

"'And the orphan he stood there until

The wind and all gave him a chill;

And he sickened--'"

That day Ross read no ly incapable of

coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his ar to see him foam at the

mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs

waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor Mr Schofield fled