"Who wrote it, señor?" She turned to a big music-rack which apparently held the music of the world.
"I don't know," said the drummer, naïvely. "Maybe you've got 'My Ding-Dong Baby'?"
Señora Fombombo began going through the huge music-cabinet uncertainly.
"You don't know the composer of that, either?"
"No. How about 'Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes'? Or have you got the 'Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Toddle'?"
The señora, who was a methodical woman, began alphabetically with Brahms and looked for the "Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Toddle." Strawbridge got up from his chair and came to assist.
"Let me help you," he volunteered. "I know the backs of those pieces just as well as I do my own face."
The señora glanced at him.
"Do you play?"
"A little," admitted the drummer. "I have been known to ripple my fingers over the elephants' tusks." Strawbridge laughed pleasantly at this tiny jest. It was the first time he had been able to speak a single sentence in a natural way, to the señora. Now this small success pleased him.