But no--he could not swallow it; And then, poor child, it was so tough He had to say he'd had enough, Though never in the world before Was lad who had not wanted more. And what became of Sammy's Ma? And what became of Sammy's Pa? Their profits gone, how could they eke A living good from week to week? They took the recipe for pies That mother made and--Oh, so wise-- Let Father make them in his way In form elliptical, they say. And when the football season came Won fortune great, and wondrous fame, Beyond the wildest hope of dreams, By selling these to football teams. And those by whom this game is played Called them the finest ever made. "The Shuregood football" made of mince, Has never quite been equaled since; And few who kick them with their feet, Know they're the pies Sam couldn't eat-- The only pies upon this orb A healthy boy could not absorb. [Illustration: "UPON THE ANVIL IN HIS SANCTUM."] "Great poem that, eh?" said the Bellows, poking Tom in the ribs, and grinning broadly. "Splendid," said Tom. "New use for pies, that." "It's beautifully long," said Lefty. "But why couldn't it be published?" asked Righty. "Wasn't it long enough?" "The editor said it wasn't true," sighed the Poker. "He had three boys of his own, you know, and he said there never was a boy who couldn't eat a pie even if it was made of crowbars and rubber, as long as it was pie." "I guess he was right," observed Righty. "I knew a boy once who ate soft coal just because somebody told him it was rock-candy." "Did he like it?" asked Tom. "I don't think he did," replied Righty, "but he never let on that he didn't." "Well, anyhow," put in Lefty, "it's time we had something to eat and we'd better set out for the Lobster shop or the Candydike--I don't care which." "Or the what?" asked Tom. "The Candydike?" said the Lefthandiron. "Didn't you ever hear of the Candydike?" "Never," responded Tom. "What is it?" "It's a candy Klondike," explained the Lefthandiron. "There are Gumdrop Mines and Marshmallow Lodes and Deposits of Chocolate Creams beyond the dreams of avarice. Remember 'em, Righty?" "Oom, mh, mh!" murmured Righty, smacking his lips with joy. "Do I remember them! O, my! Don't I just. Why, I never wanted to come back from there. I had to be pulled out of the Peppermint mine with a derrick. And the river--O, the river. Was there anything ever like it?" Tom's mouth began to water, he knew not why. "What about the river?" he asked. "Soda water flowing from Mountain to the Sea," returned the Righthandiron, smacking his lips again ecstatically. "Just imagine it, Tom. A great stream of Soda Water fed by little rivulets of Vanilla and Strawberry and Chocolate syrup, with here and there a Cream brook feeding the combination, until all you had to do to get a glass of the finest nectar ever mixed was to dip your cup into the river and there you were."