“And here’s the merry-go-round organ,” yipped Red, from his side of the shed.
“Wind it up,” I laughed, “and see if it’ll play a tune.”
Scoop came on the run.
“Hot dog!” he cried, sort of draping himself over the dusty organ. “It’s just what we need for our show.”
Mr. Solbeam was out in front talking loudly to a deaf old man who had just brought a load of rags into the yard.
“I’m going to tackle him,” cried Scoop, “and see what he wants for the organ.”
Excited over our find, Red and I quite forgot about our tired arms and legs. We dragged the organ clear of the stuff that had been piled on top of it and dusted it off. It sure was a hard-looker. [[40]]As the saying is, it had seen better days. But we didn’t care how rickety it was if it would make music. There was a little image on top that was supposed to beat a metal jigger. But it didn’t work. When Red turned the crank the image just jiggled its arm, as though it had a bad case of frazzled nerves.
“Lookit!” I cried, pointing to the organ’s name. “O-r-c-h-e-s-t-r-e-l-l-e,” I spelt.
“I thought it was a hand organ,” Red said, disappointed.
“It is a hand organ,” I grinned. “A plain old hand organ with a fancy name. But that’s all the better,” I waggled. “For we can print the name in our advertising. It’ll sound big. Turn the crank some more,” I instructed. “Let’s see if it’s got any tunes hid away in its ribs.”