“And do I blow it as fine as he?” she asked eagerly.
“Anybody can blow a horn,” he answered curtly.
“Can they now?” She was piqued again. “I’d like to see anybody do it. Why, Gran’fer can’t.”
“Gran’fer hasn’t got much breath left. I’m not talking of men in their eighties.”
“He is in his nineties,” she corrected.
“Exactly. I meant anybody with proper lungs.”
“Can you blow it?”
“Why shouldn’t I be able to blow it?”
“All right! Blow it!” said Jinny gravely. She unslung it with one arm and held it down. He gazed at it, taken aback, sandwiched between his cages.
“It’s no good opening your mouth,” she said. “I’m not going to stick it in. You’ll have to put down those horrible beasts and do that yourself. Why don’t they keep still? They make my head ache.”