poet. "I have been writing a poem on 'The Springtime of Love,' and I wished to show how"
"'The Springtime of Love!" interrupted Tom. "That must be a second cousin to the ditty entitled ''Tis Well to Meet Her at the Well.'"
"I never heard of such a poem," answered Songbird, with a serious air. "How does it go?"
"It doesn't go, Songbird; it stands still. But what have you got on the pad?"
"Yes, let us hear the latest effusion," put in Sam.
"But not if it takes too long," was Dick's comment. "I've only got about ten minutes before that lecture on 'The Cave Dwellers.'"
"I can give Songbird six minutes," said Stanley, as he consulted his watch.
"This is—er—something of a private poem," stammered Songbird. "I wrote it for a—er—for a personal friend of mine."
"Minnie Sanderson!" cried Sam, mentioning the name of a farmer's daughter with whom all were well acquainted, and a young lady Songbird called on occasionally.
"Read it, anyway, Songbird," said Dick.
"Well, if you care to hear it," responded the
