“Hurts, you abominable Fungus. You just wait!”
“Come on,” said Sandy. “All down to The Tomb!”
They trooped down the stairs and into the parlor. Sandy turned up the light and Hoop opened the piano.
“I’ll bet Marm hasn’t had this old music-box tuned,” said Ned as he seated himself on the stool and ran his fingers inquiringly along the keyboard. “I should say not! It’s something fierce!”
“‘Hark, from the Tomb a doleful sound!’” murmured Spud. “What you going to sing, Ned?”
“What do you want?”
“Something The Fungus doesn’t know.”
“That’s easy,” laughed Ned. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Give us something new,” said Sandy, seating himself beside John on the couch. “He’s a dandy singer,” he confided to the latter. “Do you sing?”
“A little,” replied John modestly.