On the Fessors Desk 39 



much time pushing that pen back and 

 forth. 



One day, after we had had a pretty 

 hard fight with the pen, I made a very 

 strange discovery. When Fessor had 

 gone away I saw that the writing on 

 some of the sheets of paper was about 

 me, and I'm going to let you read it. 

 Here is what he wrote: 



" Just now I put her on the sash that she 

 might enjoy the sunshine, but the moment I 

 began to write she flew down upon my desk 

 and seized the pen with eager fury. To pro- 

 tect my pen as I write I have barricaded my 

 writing hand with my left hand and the little 

 creature is making desperate and frantic 

 efforts to get inside. Every crevice she 

 attacks, and tries to worm her way in, 

 struggling with invincible determination and 

 occasionally pecking at me, and seizing the 

 end of my finger in her bill and pulling and 

 tugging at it ferociously. Just before I 



