"Did Professor Ingraham write this?" she asked with a puzzled expression, tapping the missive with an index finger.
"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Biscuit assured her, thinking that he was speaking the truth.
"Strange," she mused. "What can he possibly want of that old drum?"
"He wants it for the school entertainment," Biscuit explained. "There's a rehearsal this afternoon, and he wanted me to take it to the schoolhouse just as quick as I could get it there."
Overwhelmed by Biscuit's unmistakable sincerity Mrs. Burton invited him to step inside and wait while she brought the drum down from the attic. But he could not think of such a thing. His innate thoughtfulness would not permit.
"I'm afraid my feet are too muddy," he said. "I'll wait right here."
Mrs. Burton withdrew. A few moments later the door opened and a huge bass drum rolled out on to the porch.
"I guess it'll have to be tightened a little," she said as she surrendered it to Biscuit. And as he staggered down the walk under his awkward burden, she called after him, "Now you take real good care of it, won't you, Karl?"
Biscuit assured her that he would.
In further pursuance of the supposed instructions from Professor Ingraham, Biscuit delivered the drum at the vestibule of the schoolhouse which, fortunately, was not far away. It was, however, removed a short time afterwards by parties unknown, and was next found in the Canes' barn, where it remained until Decoration Day, silent and shrouded in mystery and horse-blankets.