"Is this going to start now? No,
no, Lippo, it is much too late to-night. You can sing two songs
to-morrow, then everything will be straightened out."
"Then we shall have sung two songs to-morrow, but none to-day," Lippo
began in a complaining voice, holding on to the piano and pulling his
uncle towards him.
"Nothing can be done, we have to do it," Uncle Philip said with
resignation, for he knew the obstinacy of his godson in regard to all
customs.
"Kurt, you can tell me about the songs; please find the shortest in the
song-book, or we shall have to sing till to-morrow morning. Please spare
us such a miserable scene. But wait, Kurt! The song must have a tune I
can sing, for as nobody plays the piano, I have to set the tune. Do you
want to sing with us, too, Salo, or is it too late for you? You can
retire if you prefer. You go upstairs to the room at the right corner."
"Oh, no, I want to stay as long as anybody is left," Salo replied. "I
shall enjoy singing and doing everything with you. It is all so funny
and strange."
Kurt had chosen a suitable song and Uncle Philip began it so vigorously
that everybody could join and a full-voiced chorus was formed. Lippo's
voice sounded dreadfully weak, but he sang every note to the last word,
fighting mightily against his growing sleepiness. Now the little company
could wander upstairs to their respective rooms without further obstacle.
"Oh," Uncle Philip breathed relieved when they had reached the top.
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