MacPhail leaned forward, cocked his head and said, "Go ahead."
Jeanie began. MacPhail listened intently, concentrating, nodding ever so slightly. Jeanie played on without faltering, the notes came out as strong and true as a toy flute can make them. It was Shoo, Fly, Don't Bother Me, unmistakably Shoo, Fly, played unerringly to the end.
Jeanie lowered the flute. MacPhail looked at her. Then he slapped the table and exclaimed, "You've got it! That's it, that's perfect, you'll knock 'em dead."
"Thank you, Daddy," said Jeanie, turning away.
"Wait a minute," cried MacPhail. Jeanie turned at the door.
"Who's in first place with you?" MacPhail said archly. It was an old game between them and he knew the answer that was coming.
Jeanie smiled and said, " David Russell." David is a red-headed 9-year-old neighbor so untouched by sophistication that he spells MacPhail with an F.
"That bricktop is still beating me out?" exclaimed MacPhail.
Jeanie nodded. "But you're No. 2."
MacPhail shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's not too bad, I guess," he said.