ain, to be followed by the _piano_ movement, in which the flutes took
the lead, with hautbois and clarionet, of course properly supported by
the bass.

There was a peculiar jarring in Dick's ears before the second bar was
played; and, before they were half-way through eight, the conductor's
stick was tapping the music-stand fiercely.

"Stop! stop! stop!" he yelled. "My good fellow, this won't do; you're
flat--horribly flat!"

Richard stood with his eyes fixed upon his music, expecting to see his
companion alter the tuning-slide of his flute; but the man waited, with
a supercilious smile upon his face, and the leader went on--

"Do you hear, you Smithson? That's horribly flat. Now, then, blow A."

Dick raised his instrument and blew a pure, clear note in perfect tune.

"Not that one; harder; your upper A."

A note an octave higher rang out pure and clear.

"That's better! Now begin again: the soft movement, please."

Mr Wilkins waved his wand, and a fresh start was made, but it was more
melancholy than the first. It sounded as if the women gathered in the
marketplace to welcome the return of the German warriors had set up a
howl of misery, which was ended by the crack of the conductor's stick.

"Stop! stop! stop!" he yelled. "You are blowing out of tune, sir! This
is horrible! we cannot have a row like cats in the band!"

This was a legitimate occasion for mirth, so the men laughed, and Mr
Wilkins looked pleased and the spectacles twinkled.

"Now, again; and be careful, sir, if you are to play with us. Now,
then!"

Down came the baton, two bars were played, and the result was so much
worse that the bandmaster banged his music-stand frantically.

"Stand back, sir!" he yelled. "This is ridiculous! What does the
colonel mean? What do you mean, sir, by pretending you know the music?
What? What's that you say?"

"I said `I beg pardon,' sir," began Dick.

"Beg pardon! Why, you are an impostor, sir; and if you are to stop
here, I shall resign!--What?"

"I only wanted to say, sir," continued Dick, quietly, "that this last
time I didn't blow a note."

"Well, of all the impudence! Then, pray, sir, what was the meaning of
that hideous discord?"

"I don't know, sir. I presume that someone's instrument is not in
tune."

"Someone's instrument not in tune!" cried the bandmaster. "Here, Jones,
Morris, Bigham, run through half a dozen bars."

He waved his wand, and the three musicians blew togeth