“Well,” said Mr. Gallop, indignantly, “he said you was a expert on the windpipe! Mr. Tucker, I believe it was, thought you used to play the accordion.”
[p97]
“No,” said Mr. Opp; “it was the cornet. I was considerable of a performer at one time.”
“Well, we want you for the leader of our band,” said Mr. Gallop. “We are going to have blue uniforms and give regular concerts up on Main Street.”
Nick Fenny began searching for a pencil.
“You know,” went on Mr. Gallop, rapidly, “the last show boat that was here had a calliope, and there’s another one coming next week. All I have to do is to hear a tune twice, then I can play it. Miss Guin-never Gusty is going up to Coreyville next week, and she says she’ll get us some new pieces. She’s going to select a plush self-rocker for the congregation to give the new preacher. They’re keeping it awful secret, but I heard ’em mention it over the telephone. The preacher’s baby has been mighty sick, and so has his mother, up at the Ridge; but she’s got well again. Well, I must go along now. Ain’t it warm?”
Before Mr. Opp had ceased showing [p98] Mr. Gallop out, his attention was arrested by the strange conduct of his staff. That indefatigable youth was writing furiously on the new wall-paper, covering the clean brown surface with large, scrawling characters.
Mr. Opp’s indignation was checked at its source by the radiant face which Nick turned upon him.
“I’ve got another column!” he cried; “listen here:
“‘A new and handsome Show Boat will tie up at the Cove the early part of next week. A fine calliope will be on board.’
“‘Miss Guinevere Gusty will visit friends in Coreyville soon.’