Roddy's face had flushed with irritation.
“Well, didn't I just TELL you—” he began, but paused, while the renewal of some interesting recollection became visible in his expression. “Why, I COULD, if I wanted to,” he said more calmly. “It wouldn't be a new one, maybe. I guess it would be kind of an old one, but—”
“Oh, a toy horn!” said Sam. “I expect one you had when you were three years old, and your mother stuck it up in the attic to keep till you're dead, or sumpthing!”
“It's not either any toy horn,” Roddy insisted. “It's a reg'lar horn for a band, and I could have it as easy as anything.”
The tone of this declaration was so sincere that it roused the lethargic Penrod.
“Roddy, is that true?” he sat up to inquire piercingly.
“Of course it is!” Master Bitts returned. “What you take me for? I could go get that horn this minute if I wanted to.”
“A real one—honest?”
“Well, didn't I say it was a real one?”
“Like in the BAND?”