Roddy seemed to have disappeared within a shrouding mist where Penrod's mind refused to follow him.
"Well, he got back his ole horn!" said Sam after school the next afternoon.

"I KNEW we had a perfect right to call him whatever we wanted to! I bet you hated to give up that good ole horn, Penrod." But Penrod was serene.

He was even a little superior.
"Pshaw!" he said.

"I'm goin' to learn to play on sumpthing better'n any ole horn.

It's lots better, because you can carry it around with you anywhere, and you couldn't a horn." "What is it ?" Sam asked, not too much pleased by Penrod's air of superiority and high content.