"Guess I won't!" she snapped, angered by his persistence. "Guess I won't!" she repeated angrily. "'Cause I'm not anybody's girl. So there!" With nose held regally in the air and knees strangely jointless, she walked away from the pair. "Ya-a-a-h," jeered Sid incautiously. John drove out, full strength, with his right fist upon his adversary's nose. Sid stepped back in dismay. It wasn't fair, punching without the preliminary tilt of words and wary skirmishing. Again John set upon him and he turned, dodged behind a tree, and fled for home. Down the street they tore at top speed. Inch by inch, the space between the two diminished as they passed the Alfords, the Harrisons, and finally arrived at the DuPree iron gate. "Ma-a-a-a!" yelled Sid, as he struggled with the handle. "Come quick, come quick." The gate suddenly yielded. Sid sprang inside, up the front steps, and into the hallway. There he turned, locked the screen door, and stuck out his tongue at his adversary. "Ya-a-a-a!" he taunted. John contemplated an attack upon the flimsy screening, but a remnant of wisdom withheld him. Fletcher, The Fletcher, The old fly-catcher! came the cry from the porch. "Think you're smart," John glared. "Just dare you to come down here! Just dare you to!" "The old fly-catcher" continued. John opened his lips for a reply in kind. Sid DuPree Went out on a spree And never got back 'Til half-past three. The hero of the verse was struck suddenly dumb by this display of poetical ability. Again John repeated his latest composition. He was beginning to enjoy himself immensely. At the third repetition of the adventures of Sid, a window creaked noisily up. "John Fletcher," came the harsh voice from the upper window. "You're a nasty little boy, and if you don't leave Sidney alone, I'll telephone your mother." "Ya-a-a-ah," jeered Sid in an undertone. John looked and longed. "Go on," urged Mrs. DuPree. "The telephone's right here in the hallway." He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and crossed over to his own porch. Once up in his room, he threw himself on the bed, and as the excitement of the chase wore off began to realize the extent of the morning's losses. The athletic field upon which they had labored so long and carefully, was torn to pieces--gone forever. Worse than that, Louise wasn't his girl any more. She'd said so herself. No more samples of cookery, no more confidential little walks to and from school, no more squirrel-feeding excursions. And the glorious dream of the future was as completely demolished as the "Tigers' Home Grounds." There could be no thousand dollars and a home when he reached his majority now. He lay staring at the pattern in the ceiling paper, sobbing ever so little now and then, for some minutes, then wrenched himself miserably over on his side.