"No, not that," forbade Average Jones. "Put it down."

"Not to play my B-flat trombone?" asked the other, innocently hurt.
"The other gent he make play here always."

"Did he?" drawled Average Jones. "And he--er--listened?"

"He listened from out there." The musician pointed to the other
room.

"How long?"

"Different times," was the placid reply.

"But he was always in the other room."

"Always. And I play Egypt. Like this."

"No!" said Average Jones, as the other stretched out a hopeful hand.

"He liked it--Egypt," said the German wistfully. "He said: 'Bravo!
Encore! Bis!' Sometimes nine, sometimes ten times over I play it,
the chorus."

"And then he sent you home?"

"Then sometimes something goes 'sping-g-g-g-g!' like that in the
back room. Then he comes out and I may go home."

"Um--m," muttered Average Jones discontentedly. "When did you begin