"Good evening." Her eyes followed him wistfully as he passed within the
enclosure; then she turned and walked quickly toward her own home; but
at the corner of the next fence she called back over her shoulder, "I'll
leave it with your mother for you, if you're not home when I bring it."
"What?" he shouted, from his front door.
"I'll leave it with your _mother_."
"Leave what?"
"The _poem_!"
"Oh!" said Noble. "Thanks!"
But when his mother handed him a copy of the first issue of _The North
End Daily Oriole_, the next day, when he came home to lunch, he read it
without edification; there was nothing about Julia in it.