What surprised Reginald was that while the Capecodger's words could be distinctly understood, each note was a pellet of candy, that fell from its mouth upon the carpet. When the Capecodger was through, it descended, and, much to Reginald's disgust, devoured all the candy that had fallen upon the floor.
"That candy that it has just swallowed," remarked the Slambangaree, "is merely reserve ammunition for its next song." Then turning to the Capecodger, the Slambangaree continued: "Of course you must not be kept swimming in the air, and I know it would never do to have you shed a tear. But I will not put you in the works of the clock, and grind you up in its machinery, as you suggest, for fishballs, after your kindness in singing us a nice little song, instead of excusing yourself on the threadbare ground of having a sore throat. But you must give little Reginald a ride before you return to the pitcher."
The Capecodger was so anxious to be back in its native element, that it lost no time in swimming under Reginald. When they were up in the air the Capecodger wagged its tail in great glee, and swam all around the room, just grazing the pictures and the clock, but doing no damage.
"It is just like being in a boat," said Reginald, as the Capecodger went down under a chair with him without touching the rungs; "it has a regular sea motion, and I'm not frightened a bit. But I wish I could have the Capecodger all the time; it would be nicer to go to school on than a bicycle, and then I could go way up in the air, like a kite. And every once in a while I could get it to sing, and have some candy."
But just then Reginald was back in his bed, and the Capecodger was back in the pitcher.
Then the Slambangaree took one of the boxwood tops from Reginald's pocket, and tossed it in the air a few times, and then threw it against the ceiling. Instead of descending, it remained on the ceiling, where it spun at a great rate, and, instead of humming, repeated the multiplication table so fast that it would finish twelve times in about four seconds. Then it got spinning so fast that it set all the room and the furniture whirling at the same rate. As the Slambangaree whirled with the rest, its grin increased until its head seemed to be all grin. Finally the Slambangaree grew smaller and smaller, until it was so small that it vanished into the top, which still whirled away at an awful rate. And when Reginald thought he was rid of his goblin visitor, the top suddenly began to increase in size until it was as large as a barrel, when it suddenly burst, and out popped the Slambangaree, leading a curious monster, the like of which Reginald had never seen or dreamed of. Its mouth opened like a door, and its eyes slid up and down like windows. And it had two heads, one at each end. And it could move with equal grace and swiftness in either direction. It ran all over the room, and what seemed strangest of all was that the room grew larger to accommodate the antics of the monster. Occasionally it would raise one eye like a window-sash, and curious birds would fly forth, and, after fluttering around, fly to the other end of the monster, who would throw open an eye to admit them. As the Slambangaree deposited the boxwood top in Reginald's pocket, it pointed to the monster, and said,
