So Francis trotted off to school but before he even reached the entrance he was roughly pulled aside by the biology teacher who had been following Francis with much curiosity, and some nether itching. This man was quite bad. Before Francis could even sound off a whigger of indignation, the Biology Teacher cornered, taped, and bagged him. Then the Teacher pulled out his Fantastic Tweezers.

Perhaps it should be mentioned that although Fiddleheads are quite easily bruised, their hides are fantastically tough. They cannot be cut. So despite all the curved saws and needles, Francis remained quite whole. In fact, the exercise was altogether without result. Even after many hours of prodding Francis in various crevices the Biology Teacher could neither find eyes nor mouth nor nose. But the fantastic tweezers worked like a charm and the Teacher pinched Francis quite cruelly for it excited him in the worst possible way. By the end, Francis looked like a very ripe damson plum or a calf liver patted dry and the Teacher, thoroughly aroused, could not resist: on the pretense of driving Francis home, he sped up then booted Francis out of his car. The next day he taught with zest, vigor, and a fine attention to detail. All the while, he played in his head the details of the fiddlehead rolling head over heels and disappearing into the fenny ditch.