Mr. Mell Goes to Camp
One
summer Mr. Benson and his cello, Mr. Mell, took a vacation
from the orchestra they played in. They went to Camp Crescendo
to teach music.
Mr. Mell couldn’t stand summer camp. His strings ached from the damp breezes blowing off the lake. The crickets chirped so loudly he couldn’t hear himself play. Worst of all was Mr. Benson’s student Sam. Mr. Mell shivered at the squawks and screeches that came from Sam’s cello.
One afternoon Mr. Benson and Mr. Mell were on their way to the practice cabin when they saw Sam and a friend take a canoe out on the lake.
Watching Sam skim over the water and out of sight, Mr. Mell thought that Sam was much better at paddling a canoe than playing the cello.
At three o’clock it was nearly time for Sam’s lesson.
“Let’s go practice by the lake,” suggested Mr. Benson. “We’ll watch for Sam, and he can have his lesson outside.”
Mr. Mell worried about getting sand in his strings, but he could tell that Mr. Benson liked the idea of an outdoor lesson.
Mr. Benson and Mr. Mell sat under the picnic shelter at the lake. The water lapping against the boat dock seemed to keep time to their music.
Suddenly dark clouds rolled over the sun. “I’m afraid a storm is blowing up,” said Mr. Benson anxiously, playing a little faster. “I hope Sam gets back soon.”
Mr. Mell could tell that Mr. Benson didn’t have his mind on his playing, so he played louder to remind Mr. Benson to concentrate on the music.
The clouds began to look more threatening. Lightning flashed, lighting up the lake. Thunder boomed.
“Oh, dear,” wailed Mr. Benson, playing even louder and faster. “I wish Sam would hurry. A bad storm is coming!”
Mr. Mell wished Mr. Benson would take him back to the practice cabin before the rain warped his sides.
Just then a boat appeared in the distance. It quickly grew bigger and bigger as it approached the dock.
“They’re
back!” cried Mr. Benson, playing a happy run on Mr.
Mell’s strings.
Just as the rain began to pour, Sam and his friend jumped
from the canoe. Sam ran to join Mr. Benson and Mr. Mell
under the shelter.
“I
thought we’d never get here!” cried Sam, panting
and puffing. “We headed for shore as soon as we saw
the storm clouds, but I couldn’t tell where the camp
was. Then I heard Mr. Mell’s music over the noise of
the storm, and I followed it home!”
Mr. Benson beamed happily and patted Mr. Mell’s strings.
The last night at Camp Crescendo, Sam said good-bye. He shook Mr. Benson’s hand and strummed Mr. Mell’s strings. “Next summer I’ll practice until I can make my cello sound like you, Mr. Mell,” said Sam. “And I won’t get lost on the lake again. Thank you for helping me find my way back.”
Mr. Mell was happy that Sam was going to practice. And he was even happier that camp was over and he was going home.
