the bedroom beyond, opened cautiously and Zeke Crandall's eye
glued itself to the aperture, an eye astonished beyond belief.

"If that there Red ain't a-cuttin' up jest exactly as he used
to when he was a boy - and his pa and ma sick a-bed! If 'twas
anybody but Red I'd say he was crazy."

Then he caught the sound of a laugh from lips he had not heard
laugh like that for a year - a chuckling, delighted laugh,
only slightly asthmatic and wholly unrestrained. He began to
laugh himself.

"If folks round here could see Red Burns now they'd never
believe the stories about his gettin' to be such a darned
successful man at his business," he reflected. "Of all the
goin's on! Look at him now! An' that nurse! An' Miss Ellen
a-playin' for 'em! Oh, my eye!"

Songs followed - college songs, popular airs, opera bits - all
delivered in' a resounding barytone and accompanied by
thumping chords improvised by the performer. Out through the
open windows they floated, and one astonished villages driving
by to take the early train caught the exultant strains:

"Oh, see dat watermillion a-smilin' fro' de fence,
How I wish dat watermillion it was mine.
Oh, de white folks must be foolish,
Dey need a heap of sense,
Or dye'd nebber leave it dar upon de vine!
Oh, de ham-bone am sweet,