"Say," said he, "put on the soft pedal, won't you? Perhaps you can sing,
and maybe some one told you you could, but take it from me you have no
more voice or musical ability than a he-goat."
"Oh, mercy!" retorted Bud. "Does my music annoy you?"
"It certainly does," snapped Ben.
"Then why don't yer move away?"
"Bah! You're an old goat."
"Thanks fer ther compliment, although yer don't mean it thet away. But
when yer likens me ter a goat yer do me proud. If yer were more goatlike
yerself ye'd be a heap more wiser."
"I'm glad you like it. The pleasure's all yours. But if a fellow called
me a goat, I know what I'd do."
"Maybe, perhaps. But yer needn't be afraid that any one will liken yer
ter a goat. Any self-respectin' goat would get sore at it. If I wuz ter
pick out yer counterpart in ther animile world, I'd say yer most
resembled the phillaloo?"
"What's a phillaloo?"
"A phillaloo is a cross between a penguin and a jassack."
"Say, you long-haired lobster!" cried Ben, leaping to his feet,
apparently in great anger, "don't you call me anything like that.
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