"Kettle? Did you say kettle?" Sube asked eagerly. "What's a kettle drum?"
"Never mind what it is," retorted his father. "The less you know about drums, the better off you'll be."
"It wouldn't bother you just to have me _know_ about it, would it?" Sube persisted.
"That's right! Stick to it!" growled his father. "I suppose I may as well tell you. It's like a brass kettle with a drumhead over the top. Now run along and don't bother me any more."
"What a question! Why, with sticks, of course!"
But Sube was not to be put off. "How many? One? Or two?" he asked as he edged towards the door.
"Like a snare drum?" Sube called back as he tarried in the doorway.
Seeing that he was about to be relieved of his son's presence Mr. Cane amplified a little. "More like two small bass drumsticks," he explained. "Now run along and don't bother me again to-day, for I am very busy."
Sube followed his mother into the kitchen. "How'm I goin' to get a bass drum?" he teased. "Mompsie, how'm I goin' to get--"
"Whatever put this drum business into your head?" she asked. "You know any kind of noise affects your father!"
"We won't make any noise round here," he assured her. "Honest we won't. But we want to march in the Decoration Day parade."
"Why don't you get up a nice little company of soldiers," suggested his mother. "I'll fix a uniform for you, and perhaps your father would let you carry his sword. But I will not help you to get any more drums or other noise-making things. A nice little company of soldiers would be just the thing; and I think your father would drill you once or twice to show you how--"
"Dad drill _me_! I guess not! I don't want any 'nice little comp'ny of soldiers,' anyway. I want a drum corpse!"
"You talk to the other boys about a nice little company of soldiers. That would be just the thing!"
But Sube was not interested in soldiery. The depths of his being had been sounded by the throb of the Henderson Martial Band. Creative instincts had been aroused that only expression could satisfy. He abandoned the quest of the drum and left the house. At the barn he found Gizzard Tobin waiting for him.
"Well, what luck?" called Gizzard as Sube approached.
"Nuthin' doin'," muttered Sube. "Dad said he'd kick a hole through any drum he caught on the premises, and my mother wouldn't do a thing for a drum corpse. She wanted me to get up a pimply little company of soldiers."