He adjusted the cylinder and a small brass megaphone, and, having wound the motor, pressed the starting-button. Almost at once a stentorian voice rang through the apartment:
"Home, Sweet Home—Cornet Solo—By Signor Paolo Morituri—Edison Record."
The sudden voice, issuing from the dead revolving cylinder, was so unexpected and startling that several of the ladies screamed and at least one gentleman pensioner put his hand to his sword-hilt. Elizabeth herself started bolt upright and turned pale under her rouge as she clutched the arms of her chair. Before she could express her feelings the cornet solo began, and the entire audience gradually resumed its wonted serenity before the close of the air.
"Marvellous beyond telling!" exclaimed Elizabeth, in delight. "Why, this contrivance of yours, Master Droop, shall make your name and fortune throughout our realm. Have you many such ingenious gentlemen in your kingdom, Lady Rebecca?"
"Oh, dear me, yes!" said Rebecca, somewhat contemptuously. "Copernicus Droop ain't nobody in America."
Droop glanced reproachfully at his compatriot, but concluded not to give expression to his feelings. Accordingly, he very quickly substituted another cylinder, and turned again to the Queen.
"Now, your Majesty," said he, "here's a comic monologue. I tell you, verily, it's a side-splitter!"
"What may a side-splitter be, Master Droop?"
"Why, in sooth, somethin' almighty funny, you know—make a feller laugh, you wot."
Elizabeth nodded and, with a smile of anticipation, which was copied by all present, prepared to be amused.