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"
"
Perhaps that's why he lives all alone," suggested Dorothy.
Yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury," responded the shaggy
man.
All this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes:
Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,
and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. The shaggy man
said:
"
Who are you, sir?"
The reply came in the shape of this sing-song:
I'm Allegro da Capo, a very famous man; Just find another, high or low, to
match me if you can. And have to
Some people try, but can't, to play
practice every day; But I've been musical always, since first my life began.
"
Why, I b'lieve he's proud of it," exclaimed Dorothy; "and seems to me I've
heard worse music than he makes."
"
"
Where?" asked Button-Bright.
I've forgotten, just now. But Mr. Da Capo is certainly a strange person--isn't
he?--and p'r'aps he's the only one of his kind in all the world."
This praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his
chest, looked important and sang as follows:
I wear no band around me,
And yet I am a band! I do not strain to make
my strains
But, on the other hand, My toot is always destitute
Of
flats or other errors; To see sharp and be natural are
terrors.
For me but minor
"
I don't quite understand that," said Polychrome, with a puzzled look; "but
perhaps it's because I'm accustomed only to the music of the spheres."
"
"
What's that?" asked Button-Bright.
Oh, Polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, I s'pose," explained
Dorothy.
"
Oh," said Button-Bright.
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