" growled the
distracted sufferer; "if he only knew what I am enduring."

But this Mr. Figgins did not know.

Probably he would not have cared if he had known, and he continued to
pour forth melodious squeakings to his own entire satisfaction.

At length the patience of Bosja was utterly exhausted, and he summoned
the landlady.

"What son of Shitan have you got in the next room?" he demanded of her,
fiercely.

"I know very little of him," returned the mistress of the house; "only
that he is a Frankish gentleman, who dresses sometimes as a Turk, and
has lately come to lodge here."

"He is a dog, and the son of a dog! May his flute choke him, and his
father's grave be defiled!" growled the irascible Turk, "tell him to
leave off, or I will kill him and burn his flute."

The landlady went at once and tapped at the door of the musical lodger.

There was no response save the too-too-too of the flute.

"Signor!" she called after a moment.

"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Figgins from within; "do you wish me
to come and play you a tune?" and he then continued "too-too,
tooty-too."

"The gentleman in the next room objects to the sound of your flute."

"Does he?--tooty-too, tooty-too."

"Yes; and he begs you'll leave off."

"I shan't!--tooty-tum, tooty-tum, tooty-too. I intend to play all
night."

The landlady, having delivered her message, went downstairs.

Mr. Figgins still continued to blow away and the agonized Bosja to
mutter curses not loud, but deep, upon his head and his instrument.

But patience has its limits, and Bosja, never remarkable for that
virtue, having sworn all the oaths he knew twice over, at last sprang
from his bed, and dashing down his pipe, rapped fiercely at the wall.

"What do you want? Shall I come and play a few tunes to you?" inquired
the orphan, placidly pausing for an instant.

"You vile son of perdition, stop that accursed noise!" shouted the
Turk.

"Too-too, tooty-too."

"Do you hear, unbelieving dog?"

"Tooty-too--yes, I hear--tooty-tooty-tooty-too."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Because I intend to go on--too-tum-too--all night"

"But you're driving me to distraction."

"Nonsense; go to bed and sleep--tooty-tum, tooty-tum, tooty-too. You
will like the beautiful flute in time."

"But I can't sleep with that infernal tooty-too in any ears, and I've
got the toothache."

"Have it out. You'll feel better."

This cool irony on the part of Mr. Figgins was like