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Updated: May 26, 2025
Quaver commenced louder than usual, twisting, turning, drawling, and flattening the first word as if it was spelled n-e-a-w. Miss Gamut and Mr. Cleff and the others dropped in one by one. Not a sound as yet from the school. All stood eagerly watching Paul. He cast a quick glance right and left. His hand moved, down left right up. They burst into the tune, fifty voices together.
Shortly after the girls returned from the Graham cottage to their camp, "Jimmie Junior" of the "treble cleff voice" appeared with the announcement that he had brought his boat to the Camp Fire landing and moored it by tying the painter to a projecting rock. They thanked him and proceeded at once with the task of restoring the safety-guard line to their bathing place.
Speed addressed Helen, with a magnanimous smile: "Suppose we allow Frez to sing this foot-race? We'll pull it off in the treble cleff." "Oh, I mean it!" maintained the tenor, stubbornly. "I don't want to run Skinner, the cook, but I'll run you to see who does meet him." Speed shrugged his shoulders indulgently. "I'm afraid you're a little overweight." "I'll train down."
Cleff puffed out his fat cheeks and became red in the face, doing his utmost to drown them. The people looked and listened in amazement. Mr. Surplice stood reverently in his place. Those who sat nearest the pulpit said that there was a smile on his countenance. It was a strange fugue, but each held on to the end of the verse, the young folks getting out ahead of Mr.
Quaver, though confused for a moment, recovered; Miss Gamut also righted herself. Though confounded, they were not yet defeated. Mr. Quaver stamped upon the floor, which brought Mr. Cleff to his senses. Mr. Quaver looked as if he would say, "Put down the upstarts!" Mr. Fiddleman played with all his might; Miss Gamut screamed at the top of her voice, while Mr.
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