"I reckon he knows more about that than you do. We covered that point too, and Mr. Glass said you was never better than you are right now. Anyhow, you don't have to bust no records to beat this cook. He ain't so fast."
"It would sure be a kind-hearted act if you'd do it for us," said the little man in his high, boyish voice. It was a shock to discover that he spoke in a dialect. "There's a heap of sentiment connected with this affair. You see, outside of being a prize that we won at considerable risk, there goes with this phonograph a set of records, among which we all have our special favorites. Have you ever heard Madam-o-sella Melby sing The Holy City?"
"I didn't know she sang it," said Speed.
"Take it from me, she did, and you've missed a heap."
"You bet," Stover agreed, in a hushed, awed tone.
"Well, you must have heard Missus Heleney Moray in The Baggage Coach Ahead?" queried the scholarly little man. At mention of his beloved classic, Carara, the Mexican, murmured, softly:
"Ah! The Baggage Car—Te'adora Mora! God bless 'er!"
"I must confess I've never had the pleasure," said Speed, whereupon the speaker regarded him pityingly, and Stover, jealous that so much of the conversation had escaped him, inquired:
"Can it be that you never heard that monologue, Silas on Fifth
Avenoo?"
Again Speed shook his head.