When I came down Ethel was saying,
“You’ve heard the noises in the grass, haven’t you?”
“’Deed I have,” said Minerva, dismally.
“Did you know that the grasshoppers make a great deal of that noise?”
“No’m,” said Minerva, her mouth wide open.
“They do. And how do you suppose they do it?”
“They blow, I suppose.”
“No, they don’t blow. Do they, Philip?”
“No, very few grasshoppers can blow. They can blow away, but they make that noise by—er—why, they make that noise—”
The words of a college song came into my head, “I can play the fiddle with my left hind leg.”