I went to the door with the instrument.
"Dar' to be a Danyell!
Dar' to make it known."
The stirring measures came across from Aunt Lobelia's window. Then the
singer paused.
There were other faces at other windows. The countenances of the boys and
girls gathered about the door were ominously expressive. I lifted the
horn to my lips. I blew upon it what was intended for a cheerful and
exuberant call to duty, but to my chagrin it emitted no sound whatever. I
attempted a gentle, soul-stirring strain; it was as silent as the grave.
I seized it with both hands, and, oblivious to the hopeful derision
Gathering on the faces of those about me, I breathed into it all the
despair and anguish of my expiring breath. It gave forth a hollow,
soulless, and lugubrious squeak, utterly out of proportion to the vital
force expended, yet I felt that I had triumphed, and detected a new
expression of awe and admiration on the faces of my flock.
"I don't see how she done it," I heard one freckled-faced boy exclaim,
confidingly to another; "with a hull button in thar'!"
"Who put the button in the horn?" I inquired of the youngster afterwards,
quite in a pleasant tone, and with a smile on which I had learned to
depend for a particularly delusive effect; at the same time I put up my
glasses to impress him with a sense of awe.
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