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."
"Lazarus, why do you say such dreadful things?" The voice came from behind
us; I had no trouble identifying it as Hilda's warm contralto.
Lazarus looked around. "Oh, there you are! Hilda, will you please put a
stop to this dadblasted racket?" "Lazarus, you can do it yourself-" "I've tried.
They delight in frustrating me. All three of them.
You, too."
"-simply by walking three paces beyond the door. If there is another
musical salute that you would prefer, please name it. Dora and I are trying to
find just the right tune for each of our family, plus a song of welcome for any
guest."
"Ridiculous." "Dora enjoys doing it. So do I. It's a gracious practice,
like eating with forks rather than fingers."
"'Fingers were made before forks.'"
"And flatworms before humans. That does not make flat-worms better than
people. Move along, Woodie, and give Gershwin a rest."
He grunted and did so; the Gershwin stopped. Hazel and I followed him-and
again music sounded, a pipe-and-drum band blaring out a march I had not heard
since that black day when I lost my foot... and my command... and my honor
"The Campbells Are Coming-"
It startled me almost out of my wits, and gave me the mighty shot of
adrenaline that ancient boast before battle always does. I was so overcome that
I had to force myself to keep my features straight, while praying that no one
would speak to me until I had my voice back under control
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