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was one of Fred’s blue days; for, though they came more rarely, there were often times when his trouble seemed more than he could endure, and he was either irritable and moody, or so sad and despondent that even Bess was in  despair over him. For a long time he had been brave and bright, but now the reaction seemed to have set in, and on this particular day he was harder to manage than usual. The other boys had all gone away to a ball game, to which they had tried in vain to induce Fred to accompany them. Of late he had gone about with them to many of their frolics, but to-day he had refused to join them. He was lying in a hammock out in the warm midday sun of late September, and feeling at war with all the world but Fuzz, who lay curled up  across his breast with his head laid on the boy’s  shoulder, occasionally nestling about a little, or