At the first pause which exhaustion brought, Masticator B. Fellows was perceived to be looking on quietly. "Gentlemen," he said, "dear friends" (and these words stopped everything), "I am well pleased with what you have accomplished. I expected results, and I have got them. The surgeon awaits you in the House of Bandages." No serious wounds were found; but also no scholar was found to be upon speaking terms with any other. By the generosity of Masticator each was sent home separately in a private car, on a special train, with plenty of chickle. Masticator had created all the publicity that he desired. New students swarmed in armies to his University, and he presently issued a billion more shares of Chickle common. The press of the whole country rang with the enterprise. SIMPLE SPELLERS WED was one of the first headlines that greeted me upon my homeward journey. Yes; Jesse Willows and Gertrude Appleby were the exceptions; these two scholars had gone away in the same car together to their honeymoon, while I returned lonely to the index of my forthcoming volume. Heigho! End of Project Gutenberg's How Doth the Simple Spelling Bee, by Owen Wister