"Suit yourself, suit yourself," declared Hippy, shrugging his shoulders. "You boys will be sorry if you don't let me sing, though."
"Is that a threat?" inquired Tom Gray with pretended belligerence.
"A threat?" repeated Hippy. "No, it is a fact. I am contemplating a terrible revenge. That is, I haven't really begun to contemplate it yet. I am just getting ready. But when I do start—well, you'll see."
"I think it would be delightful to hear you sing, 'Ah, I Have Sighed to Rest Me,' Hippy," broke in Nora sweetly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Can I believe my ears? The stony, unsympathetic Nora O'Malley agrees with me at last. She likes my voice; she wishes to hear me sing, 'Ah, I Have Sighed to Rest Me.' 'Tis true, I have sighed to rest me a great many times, particularly in the morning when the alarm clock put an end to my dreams. It is a beautiful selection."
"Then, why not sing it?" asked Nora demurely.
"Because I don't know it," replied Hippy promptly.
"Just as I suspected," commented Nora in disgust. "That is precisely why I asked you to sing."
"What made you suspect me?" inquired Hippy, apparently impressed.
"I suspected you on general principles," was the retort.