"No, no!" Penrod exclaimed. "You haven't got the secret of
blowin' a horn, Sam. What's the use your keepin' hold of it, when
you don't know any more about it 'n that? It ain't makin' a
sound! You lemme have that good ole horn back, Sam. Haven't you
got sense enough to see I know how to PLAY?"
Laying hands upon it, he jerked it away from Sam, who was a
little piqued over the failure of his own efforts, especially as
Penrod now produced a sonarous blat--quite a long one. Sam became
cross.
"My goodness!" Roddy Bitts said peevishly. "Ain't I ever goin' to
get a turn at my own horn? Here you've had two turns, Penrod, and
even Sam Williams--"
Sam's petulance at once directed itself toward Roddy partly
because of the latter's tactless use of the word "even," and the
two engaged in controversy, while Penrod was left free to
continue the experiments which so enraptured him.
"Your own horn!" Sam sneered. "I bet it isn't yours! Anyway, you
can't prove it's yours, and that gives me a right to call you
any--"
"You better not! It is, too, mine. It's just the same as mine!"
"No, sir," said Sam; "I bet you got to take it back where you got
it, and that's not anything like the same as yours; so I got a
perfect right to call you whatev--"
"I do NOT haf to take it back where I got it, either!" Roddy
cried, more and more irritated by his opponent's persistence in
stating his rights in this matter.
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