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THE TALE OF
FERDINAND FROG




SLEEPY-TIME TALES

(Trademark Registered)

  BY
  ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF TUCK-ME-IN TALES

(Trademark Registered)

        THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
        THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
        THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
        THE TALE OF FATTY <DW53>
        THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
        THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
        THE TALE OF PETER MINK
        THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
        THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
        THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
        THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
        THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE

[Illustration: Mr. Frog Bows to Aunt Polly Woodchuck]




SLEEPY-TIME TALES (Trademark Registered)


  THE TALE OF
  FERDINAND
  FROG

  BY
  ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

Author of "TUCK-ME-IN TALES"

(Trademark Registered)

  ILLUSTRATED BY
  HARRY L. SMITH

  NEW YORK
  GROSSET & DUNLAP
  PUBLISHERS
  Made in the United States of America




  Copyright, 1918,
  by GROSSET & DUNLAP




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                                   PAGE

      I  PRETTY AS A PICTURE                9

     II  THE DANGERS OF TRAVEL             14

    III  MR. FROG'S DOUBLE                 19

     IV  MR. CROW LOSES SOMETHING          25

      V  MR. FROG'S SECRET SORROW          31

     VI  TIRED TIM DOES A FAVOR            36

    VII  THE SINGING-PARTY                 42

   VIII  THE MISSING SUPPER                46

     IX  THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER           51

      X  CATCHING UP WITH MR. FROG         56

     XI  MR. FROG IS IN NO HURRY           61

    XII  A BAD BLUNDER                     66

   XIII  A SIXTY-INCH MEAL                 71

    XIV  AN UNPLEASANT MIX-UP              77

     XV  EVERYONE IS HAPPY                 82

    XVI  STOP THAT!                        87

   XVII  A LONG, SHARP BILL                92

  XVIII  MAKING BUTTON-HOLES               97

    XIX  THE SWIMMING TEACHER             103

     XX  DISTURBING THE NEIGHBORS         109

    XXI  MUD BATHS                        114

   XXII  HOLDING HIS BREATH               119

  XXIII  MR. FROG RUNS AWAY               124




THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG




I

PRETTY AS A PICTURE


There was something about Ferdinand Frog that made everybody smile. It
may have been his amazingly wide mouth and his queer, bulging eyes, or
perhaps it was his sprightly manner--for one never could tell when Mr.
Frog would leap into the air, or turn a somersault backward. Indeed,
some of his neighbors claimed that he himself didn't know what he was
going to do next--he was so _jumpy_.

Anyhow, all the wild folk in Pleasant Valley agreed that Ferdinand Frog
was an agreeable person to have around. No matter what happened, he was
always cheerful. Nobody ever heard of his losing his temper, though to
be sure he was sometimes the means of other peoples losing theirs. But
let a body be as angry as he pleased with Mr. Frog, Mr. Frog would
continue to smile and smirk.

Of course, such extreme cheerfulness often made angry folk only the more
furious, especially when the whole trouble was Ferdinand Frog's own
fault. But it made no difference to him what blunder he had made. He was
always ready to make another--and smile at the same time.

Really, he was so good-natured that nobody could feel peevish towards
him for long. In fact, he was a great favorite--especially among the
ladies. Whenever he met one of them--it might be the youngest of the
Rabbit sisters, or old Aunt Polly Woodchuck--he never failed to make the
lowest of bows, smile the broadest of smiles, and inquire after her
health.

That was Ferdinand Frog--known far and wide for his elegant manners.
Every young lady declared that he wore exquisite clothes, too; and many
of them secretly thought him quite good-looking.

But people as old as Aunt Polly Woodchuck seldom take heed of what a
person wears. As for Mr. Frog's looks, since Aunt Polly believed that
"handsome is as handsome does," she admitted that Ferdinand Frog was--as
she put it--"purty as a picter."

When Ferdinand Frog heard that, he was so delighted that he hurried
straight home and put on his best suit. And then he spent most of a
whole afternoon smiling at his reflection in the surface of the Beaver
pond, where he was living at the time.

So it is easy to see that Ferdinand Frog was a vain and silly fellow. He
was even foolish enough to repeat Aunt Polly's remark to everybody he
chanced to meet that night, and the following day as well.

There was no one who could help grinning at Ferdinand Frog's news--he
looked so comical. And old Mr. Crow, who was noted for his rudeness,
even burst out with a hoarse _haw-haw_.

"You're pretty as a picture, eh?" he chuckled. "I suppose Aunt Polly
means that you're as pretty as one of the pictures that the circus men
have pasted on Farmer Green's barn.... I believe----" he added, as
he stared at Ferdinand Frog----"I believe I know which one Aunt Polly
means."

"Is that so?" cried Mr. Frog, swelling himself up--through pride--until
it seemed that he must burst. "Oh, which picture is it?"

"It's the one in the upper left-hand corner," old Mr. Crow informed him
solemnly. "And if you haven't yet seen it, you should take a good look
at it soon."

"I will!" Ferdinand Frog declared. "I'll visit Farmer Green's place this
very night!"

And he opened his mouth and smiled so widely that old Mr. Crow couldn't
help shuddering--though he knew well enough that Ferdinand Frog could
never swallow anyone as big as he was.




II

THE DANGERS OF TRAVEL


It was a long way to Farmer Green's from the Beaver pond where Ferdinand
Frog made his home. But he felt that he simply _must_ see that picture
which Mr. Crow said looked like him. So he started out just before
sunset.

One thing, at least, about his journey pleased him: he could make the
trip by water--and he certainly did hate travelling on land.

Luckily the stream that trickled its way below the Beaver dam led
straight to Swift River. And everybody who knew anything was aware that
Swift River ran right under the bridge not far from the farmhouse.

So Mr. Frog leaped spryly into the brook and struck out downstream.

He was a famous swimmer, having been used to the water from the time he
was a tadpole. And now he swam so fast, with the help of the current,
that he reached the river by the time the moon was up.

As he looked up at the sky Ferdinand Frog was both glad and sorry that
there was a moon that night. The moon would be a good thing, provided he
reached the end of his journey, for it would give him a fine clear view
of the picture on the barn, which he so much wanted to see. On the other
hand, he would have preferred a dark night for a swim in Swift River.
There were fish there--pickerel--which would rather swallow him than
not. And he knew that they were sure to be feeding by the light of the
moon.

If Mr. Frog hadn't always looked on the bright side of life no doubt he
would have waited a week or two, until there was no moon at all. But he
remarked to himself with a grin, as he hurried along, that he had never
yet seen the pickerel that was quick enough to catch him, and
furthermore, he never expected to.

But those words were hardly out of Ferdinand Frog's mouth when he turned
and made for the bank as fast as he could go. He had caught sight of a
dark, long-nosed fish lying among some weeds. And he decided suddenly
that he would finish his journey by land.

"It would be a shame----" he told himself, as he flopped up the steep
bank----"it would be a shame for so handsome a person as I am to be
eaten by a fish."

"But you wouldn't object to a bird, would you?" said a voice right in
Ferdinand Frog's ear--or so it seemed to him.

He made no answer--not even stopping to bow, or say good evening--but
turned a somersault backward and hid himself under the overhanging bank.

It was Solomon Owl who had spoken to him. There was no mistaking the
loud, mocking laughter that followed Mr. Frog's hasty retreat.

"Solomon Owl is a great joker," Mr. Frog murmured with a smile. "He was
only teasing me.... Still, he might be a bit hungry. So I'll stay here
out of harm's way for a while, for it would be a shame for so handsome a
person as I am to be eaten by an old, rascally bird like Solomon Owl."

One can judge, just by that remark, that Ferdinand Frog was not quite so
polite as his neighbors supposed--_when there was no one to hear what he
said_.




III

MR. FROG'S DOUBLE


Mr. Frog waited until it was broad daylight before he left his hiding
place beneath the bank of the river. He knew that by that time Solomon
Owl must have gone home to his hemlock tree to get his rest. So
Ferdinand Frog felt quite safe again.

Having made up his mind that he would finish his journey to Farmer
Green's place by land, he started briskly across the cornfield,
travelling in a straight line between two rows of young corn.

He had not gone far before a hoarse voice called to him. But this time
he was not alarmed.

It was only old Mr. Crow, who seemed greatly pleased to see him.

"Hullo, young fellow!" said Mr. Crow. "If you're on your way to the barn
to look at that picture, I'll fly over there myself, because I'd like to
see it again."

"Aren't you afraid of meeting Farmer Green?" Ferdinand Frog asked him.

"Afraid?" Mr. Crow snorted. "Certainly not! We're the best of friends.
He set up this straw man here, just to keep me company.... Besides,"
he went on, "at this time o' day Farmer Green is inside the barn, milking
the cows. And we'll be outside it, looking at the circus pictures."

"We can call to him, if you want to say good morning to him," Ferdinand
Frog suggested cheerfully.

"Oh, no!" his companion said quickly. "I wouldn't want to do that--he's
so busy."

Ferdinand Frog smiled. And for some reason old Mr. Crow seemed
displeased.

"What's the joke?" he inquired in a surly tone. "Something seems to
amuse you. Why are you grinning?"

"It's just a habit I have," Ferdinand Frog explained.

"I'd try to break myself of that habit, if I were you," Mr. Crow advised
him. "Some day it will get you into trouble, for you're likely to grin
when you oughtn't to. There's a wrong time and a right time for
everything, you know."

"Just as there is for planting corn," Mr. Frog chimed in.

"Exactly!" Mr. Crow returned.

"And for eating it!" Mr. Frog added.

But old Mr. Crow only said hastily that he would be at the barn by the
time Ferdinand reached it. And without another word he flapped himself
away across the field.

"He's a queer one," said Ferdinand Frog to himself. "It seems as if a
person couldn't please him, no matter how much a person tried." Then he
untied his necktie, and tied it again, because he thought one end of the
bow was longer than the other; and that was something he couldn't
endure.

Then he resumed his jumping. And after exactly one hundred and
thirty-two jumps he reached a corner of Farmer Green's great barn, where
he found old Mr. Crow waiting for him.

"Still smiling, I see," the old gentleman observed gruffly. "Maybe
you'll laugh out of the other corner of your mouth after you've seen
the pretty picture that you look like."

"I hope so! Where is it?" Ferdinand Frog asked him eagerly. "Show me the
pretty one!"

"Come with me!" said old Mr. Crow. And he led the way around the barn,
stopping before the side that faced the road.

"There!" he cried. "It's in the upper left-hand corner, just as I told
you." And he chuckled as loud as he dared--with Farmer Green inside the
building, milking the cows.

As Ferdinand Frog gazed upward a shadow of disappointment came over his
face. And for once he did not smile.

"Do I look like that?" he faltered.

"You certainly do," old Mr. Crow assured him. "See those eyes--don't
they bulge just like yours? And look at that mouth! It's fully as wide
as yours--and maybe a trifle wider!"

"The face does look a bit like mine, I'll admit," Ferdinand Frog
muttered. "But no one could ever mistake one of us for the other....
What's the name of this creature?"

"It's called the _hippopotamus_," old Mr. Crow replied. "I heard Johnnie
Green say so. And he ought to know, if anyone does."




IV

MR. CROW LOSES SOMETHING


The picture of the hippopotamus on Farmer Green's barn did not please
Ferdinand Frog. But in a few moments he began to smile again.

"You've made a mistake," he told old Mr. Crow with a snicker. "When Aunt
Polly Woodchuck said I was as pretty as a picture she never could have
had this one in mind."

"Why not?" Mr. Crow inquired. "The eyes and the mouth----"

"Yes! Yes--I know!" Ferdinand interrupted. "But this creature has a
tail! And tails are terribly out of fashion. I haven't worn one since I
was a tadpole."

That was enough for old Mr. Crow. _He_ had a tail----or tail feathers,
at least. And he at once flew into a terrible rage.

"You've insulted me!" he shouted.

Ferdinand Frog knew then that he had blundered. So he hastened to mend
matters.

"There, there!" he said in a soothing tone. "Having a tail is not so
bad, after all; for you can always cut it off, if you want to be in
style." And he was surprised to find that his remark only made Mr. Crow
angrier than ever.

[Illustration: Old Mr. Crow Plays a Joke on Mr. Frog]

"Cut off my tail, indeed!" the old gentleman snorted. "I'd be a pretty
sight, if I did. Why, I wouldn't part with a single tail-feather, on any
account." He continued to scold Ferdinand Frog at the top of his lungs,
telling him that he was a silly fellow, and that nobody--unless it
was a few foolish young creatures--thought he was the least bit
handsome.

Now, old Mr. Crow was in such a temper that he forgot that Farmer Green
was inside the barn. And he made so much noise that Farmer Green heard
him and peeped around the corner of the barn to see what was going on.

A moment later the old shot-gun went off with a terrific roar. Ferdinand
Frog saw Mr. Crow spring up and go tearing off towards the woods. And a
long, black tail-feather floated slowly down out of the air and settled
on the ground near the place where Mr. Crow had been standing.

After shaking his fist in Mr. Crow's direction, Farmer Green
disappeared.

"That's a pity," Mr. Frog thought. "Mr. Crow has parted with one of his
tail-feathers. And I must find him as soon as I can and tell him how
sorry I am."

Then Mr. Frog turned to look at the other pictures, which covered the
whole side of the big barn. He beheld many strange creatures--some with
necks of enormous length, some with humps on their backs, and all of
them of amazing colors.

But whether they were ringed, streaked or striped, not one of them
was--in Mr. Frog's opinion--one-half as beautiful as the hippopotamus.

"Even he----" Mr. Frog decided----"even he couldn't be called half as
handsome as I am. For once old Mr. Crow certainly was mistaken."

And he began to laugh. And while he was laughing, Farmer Green came out
of the barn with a pail of milk in each hand.

Then Ferdinand Frog had a happy thought. Why not ask Farmer Green to
shoot off the tail of the hippopotamus? The loss of that ugly tail would
improve the creature's looks, and make him appear still more like Mr.
Frog himself.

At least, that was Mr. Frog's own opinion.

And he called to Farmer Green and suggested to him that he step out
behind the barn and take a shot at the tail of the hippopotamus.

"Try your luck!" Mr. Frog coaxed. "It's plain to see that you need
practice, or you'd have made Mr. Crow part with all his tail-feathers,
instead of only one." And he laughed harder than ever.

But Farmer Green paid little heed to Ferdinand Frog's wheedling,
although he did smile and say:

"I declare, I believe that bull frog's jeering at me because I missed
the old crow!"




V

MR. FROG'S SECRET SORROW


Ferdinand Frog always looked so cheerful that no one ever suspected that
he had a secret sorrow. But it is true, nevertheless, that something
troubled him, though he took great pains not to let a single one of his
neighbors know that anything grieved him.

His trouble was simply this: he had never been invited to attend the
singing-parties which the Frog family held almost every evening in Cedar
Swamp.

Now, Ferdinand Frog loved to sing at night.

Indeed, he liked nothing better than to go to the lake not far from the
Beaver dam and practice his songs among the lily pads near the shore. He
had a deep, powerful bass voice, which one could hear a mile or more
across the water on a still evening.

Often he dressed himself with the greatest care and went to the lake
alone, where he stayed half the night and sang so loudly that a good
many of the wild folk who lived in the neighborhood thought him a great
nuisance. Not caring for music, they objected to being forced to listen
to Ferdinand Frog's favorite songs.

"Why don't you go over to Cedar Swamp, if you want to make a noise?" one
of the Beaver family who was known as Tired Tim asked Mr. Frog one
evening. "You have come here for nine nights running; and your racket
has upset me so that I haven't done a stroke of work in all this time."

Mr. Frog had puffed himself up and had just opened his mouth to begin a
new song. But upon being spoken to so rudely he closed his mouth quickly
and swallowed several times. For just a second or two he was speechless,
he was so surprised. And then presently he began to giggle.

"I believe you," he said. "I believe that you haven't done a stroke of
work for ninety nights." He knew--as did everybody else--that Tired Tim
was the laziest person for miles around.

"I said nine--not ninety," Tired Tim corrected him.

"Oh! My mistake!" Mr. Frog replied.

"You haven't answered my question," Tired Tim reminded him with a wide
yawn. "I asked you why you didn't attend the singing-parties over in
Cedar Swamp. You could croak your head off there and no one would stop
you."

But Mr. Frog shook his head. And at the same time, he sighed.

"No!" he said. "I'd rather sing here on the border of the lake. The
trouble is, _I sing too well_ for those fellows over in Cedar Swamp."

"Why don't you join them and teach them how to sing, if you know so much
about it?" Tired Tim persisted.

"Oh, I've no time for that," Ferdinand Frog answered.

And then it was his companion's turn to snicker.

"You appear to have plenty of time to waste here," he observed. "It's my
opinion that there's just one reason why you don't go to the Cedar Swamp
singing parties."

"What's that?" Mr. Frog inquired with a slight trace of uneasiness.

"They haven't invited you."

"How did you guess that?" Ferdinand Frog asked him.

He wished, the next moment, that he had not put that question to Tired
Tim. For he saw at once that he had given his sad secret away.




VI

TIRED TIM DOES A FAVOR


In spite of all Ferdinand Frog's teasing, Tired Tim Beaver refused to
explain how he happened to know Mr. Frog's secret.

To tell the truth, he had _guessed_ the reason why Mr. Frog did not
attend the Cedar Swamp singing-parties. But he hoped that Ferdinand Frog
would think that some of the musical Frog family had been talking to
him. And he even hinted to Mr. Frog that maybe it would be possible to
get him an invitation to the singing-parties.

"Do you think you could do that?" Ferdinand Frog asked him with, great
eagerness.

"I _might_ be able to; but it wouldn't be an easy matter," Tired Tim
replied. "And I'd expect you to do something for me, if I went to so
much trouble on your account."

"I'll do _anything_ for you, in return for an invitation to the Cedar
Swamp singing-parties," Ferdinand Frog declared.

"Very well!" Tired Tim told him. "I'll go right over to the swamp now.
And when I tell 'em a few things, I know they'll want you to join 'em."

Ferdinand Frog felt so gay that he stood on his head and waved his feet
in the air.

"Let's meet here to-morrow night," he suggested.

But Tired Tim objected to that plan.

"You would be hanging about this place--and singing--for four-and-twenty
hours," he grumbled. "It will be a great deal better if we meet on the
edge of the swamp."

"Just as you wish!" Ferdinand Frog exclaimed. "And since you're going to
Cedar Swamp, I'll hop along with you, to keep you company."

"You forget----" said Tired Tim Beaver----"you forget that you haven't
been invited yet."

"Have you?" Mr. Frog inquired.

"Certainly!" said Tired Tim. And grinning over his shoulder, he swam
away.

Mr. Frog watched his friend from the shore.

"He can't fool me," he muttered. "Tired Tim _invited himself_. And I've
been stupid not to do likewise."

On the following night Ferdinand Frog went to the edge of Cedar Swamp,
where he waited somewhat impatiently on a log until Tired Tim Beaver
joined him.

"Well!" Mr. Frog cried. "I'm glad to see you and I hope you've brought
my invitation."

But Tired Tim wouldn't say yes or no.

"If I succeed in getting you into the Cedar Swamp singing-parties will
you promise me that you won't sing any more around the lake, or near our
pond, either?" he demanded.

Ferdinand Frog gave his solemn promise.

"Very well, then!" Tired Tim said. "Go along over to the swamp. They're
expecting you."

When he heard the good news Ferdinand Frog was so delighted that he
leaped into the air and kicked his heels together.

And then forgetting his solemn promise, he began to bellow at the top of
his voice:

        "To Cedar Swamp I'll haste away;
           Though first I'll sing a song.
         My voice I must not waste to-day,
           So I'll not keep you long.
         I simply want to let you know
           I'm much obliged, before I go."

"Don't mention it!" said Tired Tim.

"Don't interrupt me, please!" said Ferdinand Frog. "I haven't finished
thanking you yet. That's only the first verse."

"How many more are there?" Tired Tim inquired with a yawn.

"Ninety-nine!" Mr. Frog answered. And he was somewhat surprised--and
puzzled--when Tired Tim left him suddenly and plunged into the
underbrush.




VII

THE SINGING-PARTY


Ferdinand Frog lost no time, after Tired Tim left him. He jumped into
the swamp and made straight towards the very middle of it, whence he
could already hear the chorus of the numerous Frog family; for the
singing-party had begun.

Mr. Frog made all haste, not wishing to miss any more of the fun. Now
swimming, now leaping from one hummock to another--or sometimes to an
old stump--he quickly reached the place where the Frog family were
enjoying themselves.

"Here he is!" several of the singers exclaimed as soon as Ferdinand
Frog's head popped out of the water, in their midst.

He saw at once that they had been expecting him; and he smiled and
bowed--and waited for the company to stop singing and give him a warm
greeting with their cold, damp hands. But except for those first few
words, no one paid the slightest attention to the newcomer.

In fact, nobody even took the trouble to nod to Ferdinand Frog--much
less to shake hands with him and tell him that he was welcome.

Meanwhile one song followed another with hardly a pause between them.
And Mr. Frog found that he did not know the words of even one.

He was so impatient that at last he climbed upon an old fallen
tree-trunk, which stuck out of the greenish-black water, and began to
roar his favorite song, while he beat time for the other singers. The
name of that song was "A Frog on a Log in a Bog"; and Ferdinand Frog
thought that he couldn't have chosen another so fitting.

But the rest of the singing-party had other ideas. They turned about and
scowled at Mr. Frog as if he had done something most unpleasant.

"Stop! Stop!" several of them cried. And an important-looking fellow
near him shouted, "Don't sing that, for pity's sake!"

"Why not?" Ferdinand Frog faltered. "What's the matter with my song?
It's my special favorite, which I sing at least fifty times each night,
regularly."

"It's old stuff," the other told him with a sneer. "We haven't sung that
for a year, at least."

Ferdinand Frog did not try to argue with him. But as soon as he saw
another chance he began a different ditty.

Then a loud groan arose. And somebody stopped him again. And Mr. Frog
soon learned that they hadn't sung that one for a year and a half.

Though he tried again and again, he had no better luck. But he kept
smiling bravely. And finally he asked the company in a loud voice if he
"wasn't going to have a chance."

"Certainly!" a number of the singers assured him. "Your chance is coming
later. We shan't forget you."

And that made Ferdinand Frog feel better. He told himself that he could
wait patiently for a time--if it wasn't too long.




VIII

THE MISSING SUPPER


Ferdinand Frog had begun to feel uneasy again. He was afraid that the
singers had forgotten their promise to him. But at last they suddenly
started a rousing song which made him take heart again.

They roared out the chorus in a joyful way which left no doubt in his
mind that his chance was at hand:

        "Now that the concert is ended
           We'll sit at the banquet and feast.
         Now that the singing's suspended
           We'll dine till it's gray in the east."

Mr. Frog only hoped that the company did not expect him to sing to them
_all_ the time while they were banqueting.

"They needn't think--" he murmured under his breath--"they needn't think
I don't like good things to eat as well as they do." But he let no one
see that he was worried. That was Ferdinand Frog's way: almost always he
managed to smile, no matter how things went.

When the last echoes of the song had died away a great hubbub arose.
Everybody crowded around Mr. Frog. And there were cries of "Now! Now!"

He thought, of course, that they wanted to hear him sing. So he started
once more to sing his favorite song. But they stopped him quickly.

"We've finished the songs for to-night," they told him. "We're ready for
the supper now.... Where is it?"

"Supper?" Mr. Frog faltered, as his jaw dropped. "What supper?"

"The supper you're going to give us!" the whole company shouted. "You
know--don't you?--that we have just made a rule for new members: they're
to furnish a banquet."

Ferdinand Frog's eyes seemed to bulge further out of his head than ever.

"I--I never heard of this before!" he stammered.

"Didn't Tired Tim tell you about our new rule?" somebody inquired. "It
was his own idea."

"He never said a word to me about it!" Ferdinand Frog declared with a
loud laugh. "And I can't give you a supper, for I haven't one ready."

"Then we'll postpone it until to-morrow night," the company told him
hopefully.

"What does your rule say?" Ferdinand Frog rolled his eyes as he put the
question to them.

"It says that the banquet must take place the first night the new member
is present," a fat gentleman replied.

"Then I can't give you any food to-morrow night," Mr. Frog informed
them, "because it would be against the rule."

"Then you can't be a member!" a hundred voices croaked.

"I _am_ one now," Ferdinand Frog replied happily. "And what's more, I
don't see how you can keep me out of your singing-parties."

There was silence for a time.

"We've been sold," some one said at last. "We've no rule to prevent this
fellow from coming here. And the worst of it is, as everybody knows, his
voice is so loud it will spoil all our songs."

Oddly enough, the speaker was the very one who had