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Updated: May 9, 2025
And you can laugh or buy, it's all one to me." To show his indifference he drummed with his knobby knuckles on the table and stared at the coffee-pot. A minute later he began to hum a monotonous "Tra-la-loo, tra-la-lee, tra-la-lee, tra-la-loo." "Now look here, Mr. Sanderson," said Smoke. "This town-site isn't worth ten thousand.
"Don't you remember that trip, and the fun we had with Peleg Snuggers, the wagon man?" and then he burst out singing: "Putnam Hall's the place for me! Tra-la-lee! Tra-la-lee! Putnam Hall's the place for me! The best old school I know!" "You'll have the conductor putting you off, the next thing you know," remarked Sam. "Putting me off? Never!" cried Tom.
If it was worth that much it would be worth a hundred thousand just as easily. If it isn't worth a hundred thousand and you know it isn't then it isn't worth ten cents." Sanderson drummed with his knuckles and hummed, "Tra-la-loo, tra-la-lee," until the coffee-pot boiled over. Settling it with a part cup of cold water, and placing it to one side of the warm hearth, he resumed his seat.
He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in his lapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on his face you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops. "Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him. "Is it a special holiday, or what?" "It's a very special one," says he, thumpin' me on the back and whisperin' husky in my ear.
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