Chorus: She’s my pineapple, etc.”
The other boys had stopped twanging their various musical instruments, leaving Pete sole performer. As he ended his ditty with a sweeping flourish of the strings there came an enthusiastic clapping of hands. “Oh, Pete, that was wonderful!” cried the girls.
Hal went up and pounded his friend on the back. “Pete, you old top,” he said, “I didn’t think you had it in you. Where have you kept your talent all this while?”
“It required ‘the time, the place and the loved ones all together,’ to bring it out,” responded Pete. “This is a combination one doesn’t get more than once in a lifetime. Such an opportunity may not occur again.”
“Do you think you could remember the words?” Joanne asked him. “I would love to write them down to show to my grandfather.”
“Oh, gee!” exclaimed Pete suddenly overcome with confusion, “I couldn’t remember them; I just made them up as I went along.”
“That’s all right, all right,” spoke up Chet; “all the same they are going down to posterity in written form, for I took them down in short-hand. I’ve had an exhibition of Pete’s powers before and knew what to expect. I’ll write them out in proper shape and give them to you, Jo.”
“Oh, I say——” began Pete in protest.
“Nothing doing, old chap,” Chet interrupted. “I made up my mind last time that our troubadour’s lay should not sink into oblivion, so I was prepared.”
“Good for you, Chet,” spoke up one of the other boys. “We want that song for our own use. All original compositions are exclusively the property of this establishment, Pete, so if you don’t want us to have them you must hie you to your attic and coax the Muse in solitude.”