“O.K.”
He came around from behind, and looked like he felt better. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“When you laugh. Is a echo. Is a fine echo.”
He tossed off a high note. It wasn’t any song, just a high note, like on a Caruso record. He cut if off quick and listened. Sure enough, here it came back, clear as anything, and stopped, just like he had.
“Is a sound like me?”
“Jus’ like you, kid. Jussa same ol’ toot.”
“By golly. Is swell.”
He stood there for five minutes, tossing off high notes and listening to them come back. It was the first time he ever heard what his voice sounded like. He was as pleased as a gorilla that seen his face in the mirror. She kept looking at me. We had to get busy. I began to act sore. “Wot th’ hell? You think we got noth’n t’ do but lis’n at you yod’l at y’self all night? C’me on, get in. Le’s get going.”
“It’s getting late, Nick,”