Dolf. After this, whenever you start on a new adventure, ask yourself: 'Is this wise, and would I tell about it at home?' That sort of questioning will keep you out of a lot of trouble."
Yet the boy's face remained glum. The man saw that he must rouse him from his depression. The accordion was where Bert had laid it at Dolf's coming. Mr. Quinby picked it up and inserted his hands in the straps.
"I used to be able to tease one of these things," he announced. "Didn't know that, did you? What will you have? Call your tune."
Bert showed a spark of interest. "Can you play 'Turkey in the Straw?'"
"I could—once," said the man, and began to pick out the melody.
"Must have been a long time ago," said Bert, and gave a half-hearted grin.
Mr. Quinby settled back and warmed up to his work. His fingers began to find the keys. Mrs. Quinby came upstairs and stood in the doorway.
"It's late," she reminded him. "You'll have the neighbors throwing shoes in the window."
"Not if they know good music," Mr. Quinby chuckled.
"Huh!" said Bert. "Call that music?"
Mr. Quinby gave the accordion an extra flourish. "How's that?"
"Fierce," said the boy.
His father threw back his head and sang:
