"I never did," replied Reginald.
Then the Slambangaree turned to the Capecodger, and said, in a tone of authority,
"Sing, Sir Fish!"
The fish opened its mouth very wide and sang:
"As I'm a fish of good sound sense,
Permit me, sir, to say
It is a strange experience
To swim around this way.
I much prefer the coral caves
Beneath the bounding sea,
And to disport upon its waves,
And wriggle in my glee.
That bureau there is not a rock,
This air is not the brine.
Oh, grind me up in yonder clock
For fishballs sweet and fine,
But do not keep me swimming here
All day, and thirsty, too,
Or I shall have to shed a tear,
And that would never do!"
What surprised Reginald was that while the Capecodger's words could be distinctly understood, each note was a pellet of candy, that fell from its mouth upon the carpet. When the Capecodger was through, it descended, and, much to Reginald's disgust, devoured all the candy that had fallen upon the floor.
"That candy that it has just swallowed," remarked the Slambangaree, "is merely reserve ammunition for its next song." Then turning to the Capecodger, the Slambangaree continued: "Of course you must not be kept swimming in the air, and I know it would never do to have you shed a tear. But I will not put you in the works of the clock, and grind you up in its machinery, as you suggest, for fishballs, after your kindness in singing us a nice little song, instead of excusing yourself on the threadbare ground of having a sore throat. But you must give little Reginald a ride before you return to the pitcher."
The Capecodger was so anxious to be back in its native element, that it lost no time in swimming under Reginald. When they were up in the air the Capecodger wagged its tail in great glee, and swam all around the room, just grazing the pictures and the clock, but doing no damage.
"It is just like being in a boat," said Reginald, as the Capecodger went down under a chair with him without touching the rungs; "it has a regular sea motion, and I'm not frightened a bit. But I wish I could have the Capecodger all the time; it would be nicer to go to school on than a bicycle, and then I could go way up in the air, like a kite. And every once in a while I could get it to sing, and have some candy."
But just then Reginald was back in his bed, and the Capecodger was back in the pitcher.