“Stop! stop! stop!” he yelled. “You are blowing out of tune, sir! This is horrible! we cannot have a row like cats in the band!”
This was a legitimate occasion for mirth, so the men laughed, and Mr Wilkins looked pleased and the spectacles twinkled.
“Now, again; and be careful, sir, if you are to play with us. Now, then!”
Down came the baton, two bars were played, and the result was so much worse that the bandmaster banged his music-stand frantically.
“Stand back, sir!” he yelled. “This is ridiculous! What does the colonel mean? What do you mean, sir, by pretending you know the music? What? What’s that you say?”
“I said ‘I beg pardon,’ sir,” began Dick.
“Beg pardon! Why, you are an impostor, sir; and if you are to stop here, I shall resign!—What?”
“I only wanted to say, sir,” continued Dick, quietly, “that this last time I didn’t blow a note.”
“Well, of all the impudence! Then, pray, sir, what was the meaning of that hideous discord?”
“I don’t know, sir. I presume that someone’s instrument is not in tune.”