“Put a new record in; that one scratches.”
These were some of the calls that greeted Nat’s rendition of what he said was Fred’s song.
“I never made that up!” cried the musical student. “I can make better verse than that.”
“Go on, give us the tune,” shouted Sam.
“That’s right—make him play,” came a score of calls.
“Order, young gentlemen, order!” suddenly interrupted the harsh voice of Martin, the monitor. “I shall be obliged to report you to Dr. Mead unless you are more quiet.”
“Send in Professors Socrat and Garlach,” advisdadvised Jack. “They can keep order.”
“That’s it, and we’ll get them to sing Fred’s song,” added Sam Chalmers.
“Ranger—Chalmers—silence!” ordered Martin, and not wishing to be sent to Dr. Mead’s office the two lively students, as well as their no less fun-loving companions, subsided.