Jenkins?"
"Low?" answered Mr. Jenkins, "it's as low as--as mud, sir. I might say
it's infernal vulgar--what?"
"Why, I don't care for it myself," Mr. Stevens admitted rather humbly,
"it was merely a suggestion."
"With your good favour," said Mr. Brimberly, after a tentative sip at
his glass, "I'll sing you a old song as was a rare favourite of my
father's."
"Why, then," said Mr. Jenkins, taking up his banjo, "oblige us with the
key."
"The key, sir?" answered Mr. Brimberly, pulling down his waistcoat,
"what key might you mean?"
"The key of the note dominant, Brim."
Mr. Brimberly stared and felt for his whisker.
"Note dominant," he murmured; "I don't think my song has anything of
that sort--"
"Oh, well, just whistle a couple o' bars."
"Bars," said Mr. Brimberly, shaking his head, "bars, sir, is things
wherewith I do not 'old; bars are the 'aunt of the 'umble 'erd, sir--"
"No, no, Brim," explained Mr. Stevens, "Jenk merely means you to 'um the
air."
"Ah, to be sure, now I appre'end! I'll 'um you the hair with pleasure.
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