She pushed him through the open doorway. The guests looked up; what would Janey Crosby do next?
“Folks,” announced Janey Crosby, “Mr. Velvet Pants is going to sing for us. He learned a little American song just for my birthday. Wasn’t that nice of him?”
It was evident from the face of Pete High, who stood in the doorway, that he did not think it was particularly nice.
The small brown man glanced uncertainly about the hall; then he began to play chords on his guitar. Some of the girls tittered. In a round, clear tenor Velvet Pants began to sing:
“Kees me hagain, kees me hagain,
Kees me hagain, and hagain.”
His memory seemed to go back on him at this point; he groped for a moment for the words, then plunged on:
“Kees me hagain, kees me hagain,
Kees me hagain, and hagain.
Kees me hagain, kees me hagain,