Everybody said it had been a good program. In the car going home, Mr. Martin said he could hear Cathy's voice above the other girls', sweet as a bird. And Mrs. Martin said that Jerry had rung his bells exactly on time and very nicely. They carefully avoided mentioning anything about Andy's piece.
They were just getting out of the car when Andy broke into loud wails of extreme sorrow.
"I said the wrong piece," he sobbed. "I said the wrong piece and everybody laughed at me."
"Never you mind, son. Folks enjoy a good laugh," said Mr. Martin.
"There, there!" Andy's mother soothed him. "We all make mistakes. He's getting a delayed reaction," she told the others. "And it's long past his bedtime."
Jerry really felt sorry for Andy. "Tell you what, Andy, I promise I'll take you to the zoo next Saturday. You'll like that, won't you?"
"I don't want to see the loud animals. I want to go see the quiet ones," said Andy, sniffing though his sobs had ceased.
"Okay, I'll take you to the Museum of Natural History," agreed Jerry, understanding that by "loud" Andy meant alive and by "quiet" he meant stuffed animals.
"Ned Brooks hollered so loud my ears hurt. He sounded like this. 'Who's been eating my porridge?'" Andy bellowed the words so loud that his mother put her hands over her ears.
"Sometimes I think I would prefer quiet children," she said.