“It won't work,” he announced.
“Course it won't!” Roddy Bitts shouted. “You can't make it go without you got a REAL horn. I'm goin' to get me a real horn some day before long, and then you'll see me goin' up and down here playin' it like sixty! I'll—”
“'Some day before long!'” Sam mocked. “Yes, we will! Why'n't you get it to-day, if you're goin' to?”
“I would,” said Roddy. “I'd go get the money from my father right now, only he wouldn't give it to me.”
Sam whooped, and Penrod, in spite of his great depression, uttered a few jibing sounds.
“I'd get MY father to buy me a fire-engine and team o' HORSES,” Sam bellowed, “only he wouldn't!”
“Listen, can't you?” cried Roddy. “I mean he would most any time, but not this month. I can't have any money for a month beginning last Saturday, because I got paint on one of our dogs, and he came in the house with it on him, and got some on pretty near everything. If it hadn't 'a' been for that—”
“Oh, yes!” said Sam. “If it hadn't 'a' been for that! It's always SUMPTHING!”
“It is not!”
“Well, then, why'n't you go GET a real horn?”