d took it to a pawnshop
and took it out and somebody stole it again. And they kept on stealing
it and taking it out of the pawnshop and stealing it again till the
gold wore off so it looks like a used-to-be-yesterday."

"Oh, yes, o-h, y-e-s, you are right. It is not like the accordion it
used to be. It knows more knowledge than it used to know just the same
as this Potato Face Blind Man knows more knowledge than he used to
know."

"Tell me about it," said Any Ice Today.

"It is simple. If a blind man plays an accordion on the street to make
people cry it makes them sad and when they are sad the gold goes away
off the accordion. And if a blind man goes to sleep because his music
is full of sleepy songs like the long wind in a sleepy valley, then
while the blind man is sleeping the diamonds in the diamond rabbit all
go away. I play a sleepy song and go to sleep and I wake up and the
diamond ear of the diamond rabbit is gone. I play another sleepy song
and go to sleep and wake up and the diamond tail of the diamond rabbit
is gone. After a while all the diamond rabbits are gone, even the
diamond chin sitting on the diamond toenails of the rabbits next to
the handles of the accordion, even those are gone."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Any Ice Today.

"I do it myself," said the Potato Face Blind Man. "If I am too sorry I
just play the sleepy song of the long wind going up the sleepy
valleys. And that carries me away where I have time and money to dream
about the new wonderful accordions and postoffices where everybody
that gets a letter and everybody that don't get a letter stops and
remembers the Potato Face Blind Man."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

How the Potato Face Blind Man Enjoyed
Himself on a Fine Spring Morning

On a Friday morning when the flummywisters were yodeling yisters high
in the elm trees, the Potato Face Blind Man came down to his work
sitting at the corner nearest the postoffice in the Village of
Liver-and-Onions and playing his gold-that-used-to-be accordion for
the pleasure of the ears of the people going into the postoffice to
see if they got any letters for themselves or their families.

"It is a good day, a lucky day," said the Potato Face Blind Man,
"because for a beginning I have heard high in the elm trees the
flummywisters yodeling their yisters in the long branches of the
lingering leaves. So--so--I am going