antly lifted his hands and began to play
what he had written.

He jerked back from the keyboard, his hair on end, his teeth, on edge,
his ears screaming with the mass of sounds he had produced. He looked at
his hands, peered at the score, adjusted his spectacles and tried again.

I'm tired, he thought, recoiling in horror from the racket. A food
tablet and a nap will remedy the situation.

* * * * *

When he awoke, Groverzb walked to the window, refreshed. A violet glow
had replaced the harsh yellow light of day. At the foot of the slope,
the Little People dashed to and fro, but no voice broke the peaceful
quiet of the evening.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Groverzb went to the piano. Gently, he
struck the keys. Blatant, jumbled noise filled the room.

Breathing hard, Groverzb rose and gingerly lifted the spinet's lid. No,
nothing amiss there. Good felts, free hammers, solid sounding
board--must be out of tune.

Groverzb closed the lid, sat down and struck a single note. A clear
tone sang out. He moved chromatically up and down the scale. Definitely
not out of tune.

He shifted the score, glanced uneasily at the keys and began to play.
Discord immediately pierced his eardrums.

He clapped his hands over his ears and leaped wildly from the piano
bench. The trip, he decided frantically. It must have affected my
hearing.

He flung himself from the house and down the slope. The Little People
scattered, staring. He charged into the administration building and
clutched the lapels of a uniformed official.

"A doctor!" he gasped. "Now! This minute!"

The official raised his eyebrows and removed Groverzb's hands with
distaste.

"It's a little late in the day," he drawled, "but maybe the doc up on
the top floor--"

Groverzb flew up the stairs and into the doctor's office. The doctor's
face lit up.

"A patient!" he exclaimed. "Capital! What seems to be the trouble? Food
poisoning? Shouldn't eat the food here. Garbage. Appendix? Heart
attack?"

"Stop talking, you idiot, it's my ears!"

Obviously disappointed, the doctor nevertheless poked and peered at
Groverzb's ears.

"No," he said finally. "A trifle big, yes. But nothing wrong with them."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. A pity. I'm getting a bit rusty."

With a groan, Groverzb staggered out of the building, back through town,
and up the slope to his house. Seating himself firmly on the bench he
began to play.

He shudd