The hour has come to say good-by;
You end now with the ending year,
And we stand here to see you die.
You served us well in summer's heat;
You changed two foes to man and wife;
We ran to you with hurried feet,
Because you were our joy in life.
Though you are warped, we do not spurn;
We love you still, though you are bent,
And standing here to see you burn
We read to you our hearts' lament.
The New Year comes to-morrow morn,
When one brave dove far schoolward flocks;
In June, if a new office's born,
We'll think your spirit's in the box,
And thus you will be with us yet;
Old office, we will hold you dear;
Our first friend we can ne'er forget,
So good-by, old office, and Old Year."
This ode, in spite of its halting in some of its feet, was hailed with rapturous approval by Margery's audience.
"There goes the last end of the office," cried Jack excitedly.
"And our post-office is over," said Amy sadly.
"And Jack's going away," added Margery.
"Only till June, and then we'll have a new office and Jack back again," said Trix.
"And the Happy Thought Club's going to last forever," cried Jack.
"Let's give three cheers for the H. T. C. as a close of the exercises. Hurry up before the box is quite gone."
The cheers were given, and then four figures curled up on the hearth-rug to watch the last embers of the post-office fade away, and build castles in the air for the future achievements of the H. T. C. in the New Year so close upon them.