“No, you old puff-ball!”
“What?” The Fungus rubbed Spud’s short nose with the heel of his hand and Spud writhed in a vain attempt to unseat his enemy.
“Let me up!”
“Be good?”
“Maybe.”
“Apologize?”
“Never! Pull him off, someone.”
“Cut out the rough-house, you two,” said Sandy. “Let’s go down and have harmony. Got any new songs, Ned?”
“I don’t know; yes, I guess so. But I’m tired.”