"
Ojo was greatly annoyed by this unwelcome
addition to their party. At first he did not know
what to say to the newcomer, but a little thought
decided him not to make friends.
"We are traveling on important business," he
declared, "and you'll excuse me if I say we can't
be bothered."
"How very impolite!" exclaimed the phonograph.
"I'm sorry; but it's true," said the boy. "You'll
have to go somewhere else."
"This is very unkind treatment, I must say,"
whined the phonograph, in an injured tone.
"Everyone seems to hate me, and yet I was intended
to amuse people."
"It isn't you we hate, especially," observed
the Glass Cat; "it's your dreadful music. When
I lived in the same room with you I was much
annoyed by your squeaky horn. It growls and
grumbles and clicks and scratches so it spoils
the music, and your machinery rumbles so that
the racket drowns every tune you attempt."
"That isn't my fault; it's the fault of my
records. I must admit that I haven't a clear
record," answered the machine.
"Just the same, you'll have to go away," said
Ojo.
"Wait a minute," cried Scraps. "This music
thing interests me. I remember to have heard
music when I first came to life, and I would like
to hear it again.
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