CHAPTER XVIII
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
They were all there when he entered, Jimmy, Dud and Leon. Jimmy was sitting huddled up on the window seat with his banjo across his knees, Leon was stretched over as much of the seat as was left, and Dud was sprawled in a Morris chair. The light was turned low, and it was evident that Jimmy had been singing. Jimmy’s singing was always a treat. He flatted every third or fourth note, and knew it, and was not discouraged. And he especially fancied pathetic ballads. Of the two accomplishments, his banjo playing was far the better, but it was his singing that always won the applause. He stopped strumming softly as Monty closed the door behind him, and said sternly:
“Halt, thou, and give the password!”
“Forget it,” said Monty, shying his cap at Dud, and sinking into the second easy chair.
Jimmy grumbled. “What’s the use of having a password,” he asked to a low accompaniment on the instrument, “if nobody uses it? Want me to sing, Monty?”
“Is it necessary?”
“Give him the last one, Jimmy,” begged Leon. “You’ll love this, Monty. It’s no end sad, and Jimmy sings it with so much feeling.”
“Executes it, you mean,” corrected Dud.
“I composed it myself,” said Jimmy, modestly. “This morning in math. It’s called ‘I Didn’t Choose My Name.’ There’s only one verse so far, but I shall write more.”
“If you live,” suggested Monty.