You shall hear. (He plays
"cuckoo" with an air.)
SINGER. The only notes he knows, ladies.
TALKER (indignantly). Oh, fie, Sir, fie! I protest, Madame, he
maligns me. Have I not a G of surpassing splendour, of a fruitiness
rarely encountered in this vale of tears? Madame, you must hear my
G. Now, where is it? (He arranges his fingers with great care on
the pipe.) I have it. (He blows a G, and bows deeply first to
MOTHER and then to DAUGHTER.)
SINGER. Marvellous!
MOTHER (to TALKER). I thank you, Sir.
DAUGHTER. Oh, Mother, isn't he splendid?
TALKER (to MOTHER). Would you like my G again, Madame?
MOTHER. Not just now, I thank you, sir. Doubtless we shall feel
more in need of it a little later on. But tell me, Sir, have you no
other talent to match the singing and playing of your friends?
FIDDLER. He talks.
MOTHER. I had noticed it.
TALKER. This gift of talking with which her Royal Sweetness is good
enough to credit me, irksome though it is to a man of silent habit
like myself, a creature, as you will have noticed, of taciturn
disposition; this--I--(Frankly) Madame, I have lost that sentence.
Have I your gracious permission to begin again?
MOTHER. I think it would be better, Sir.
TALKER. Then, to put it shortly, Madame--
MOTHER. If you could, sir.
TALKER. To be completely frank in this matter, Madame, I--er--go
round with the hat.
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