"Good for you Washtubs!" came from a boy in the rear of the crowd.

"I'd stick to that resolution, by all means, Buttertubs," came from the
opposite side of the crowd.

And then one older youth, who was given to writing songs, began to sing
softly:


"Rub-a-dub-dub!
One man in a tub,
And who do you think it is,
It's William Philander,
Who's got up his dander,
And isn't he mad! Gee whizz!"


The doggerel, gotten up on the spur of the moment, struck the fancy of
fully a score of boys, big and little, and in an instant all were
singing it over and over again, at the top of their lungs, and at this
those who did not sing began to laugh uproariously.

"I say, what's it all about?" demanded Tom, as he slid from the
turning-bar.

"Songbird Powell has composed a comic opera in Tubby's honor," answered
Larry Colby, one of the Rover boys' chums. "I guess he's going to have
it put on the stage after the holidays, with Tubby as leading man."

"See here, I won't have this!" roared the rich youth, waving his hand