human
Never tell us ye left your music at home on the piano rack! Ye did not, for ye couldn't, unless ye were to leave your head there too. For it's in that round head o' yours that ye carry the finest ripertor of good tunes and words with them of any man in the country. There's not a postmaster in all these great United States that has the songs an' the music in him that ye have,
gpt
It's right hard on the voice, complained Jethniah, standing on professional grounds,
human
Eatin'? said McQuade contemptuously.
gpt
I don't call that eatin' at all. We'll _eat_ after we've had a song or two. You'll sing, an' I'll sing, an' we'll all sing. Out with the tunin' fork!
human
Can't you tell a few lies, till we get our breath?
gpt
No. We'll have all the night to tell stories in after the girls are in bed. Now we'll sing,