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 *ular drug store. At the right, in a corner which held a cushioned settee and two or three small wire-legged tables, sat Fudge. An emaciated rubber plant hung its leaves above his head, a tall glass of ice-cream soda was in one hand and a dripping spoon in the other, and his eyes were fixed ecstatically on the big glass jar which, suspended in the nearer window, glowed with carmine and purple.

"It's a shame to wake him," chuckled Chester, as they wormed their way through the throng. "What an awful looking mess he's eating!"

"How did the game come out, Fudge?" demanded Lanny anxiously.

Fudge's rapt gaze fell slowly away from the hypnotic brilliancy. "Eh?" he murmured.

Lanny impatiently repeated the question, while Fudge blinked and brought his thoughts back with an evident effort.

"Hello, fellows! Game? Oh, they beat us. Thirteen to seven."

"What do you know about that?" demanded Lanny disgustedly. "Isn't that the dickens?"

"How did they do it, Fudge?" asked Chester.

"Made two touchdowns to our one," replied Fudge, dipping his spoon in the harlequin concoc