"Well, I give in, Mr. Quelson; perhaps my friend Blink would like to put a few questions." Dr. Nopkin fanned himself vigorously with an old and treasured copy of Dwight's _Journal of Music_, containing a criticism of his "passionate octave playing." Mr. Blink arose and took the list.
"I see here," he said, "the name of Beckmesser McGillicuddy. The name is a promising one. Wagner ever desired the Celt to be represented in his scheme of the universe."
"Obliging of him," insinuated Mr. Tile of the _Daily Bulge_.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," groaned poor Quelson; "think of the effect on the class if this spirit of irreverent repartee is maintained."
"Mr. Beckmesser McGillicuddy, will you please stand up?" requested Mr. Blink.
"Stand up, Gilly! Stand up Gilly, and show him what you are. Don't be afraid, Gilly! We will see you through," chanted the class with an amazing volume of tone and in lively rhythm.
The young man arose. He was 6 feet 8, with a 17 waist, and a 12-1/2 neck. Yet he looked intelligent. The class watched him eagerly, and the Missouri member, now thoroughly recovered, whistled the Fate-motif from _Carmen_, and McGillicuddy looked grateful.
"You wish to become a music critic, do you not?" inquired Mr. Blink, patronizingly.
"What do you think I'm here for?" asked the student, in firm, cool tones.
"Tell me, then, did Wagner ever wear paper collars?"
"Celluloid," was the quick answer, and the class cheered. Mr. Quelson looked unhappy, and Tile sneered in a minor but audible key.
"Good," said Mr. Blink. "You'll do. Would any of my colleagues care to question this young and promising applicant, who appears to me to have thoroughly mastered modern music?"
Little Mr. Slehbell arose, and the class again trembled. They had read his _How to See Music Although a Deaf Mute_, and they knew that there were questions in it that could knock them out. The critic secured the list, and after hunting up the letter K, he coughed gently and asked:
"Get into line, Billy Krap; get into line, Billy. Give him as good as he gives you; so fall into line, Billy Krap."
This was first sung by the class with antiphonal responses, then with a fugued finale, and Mr. Slehbell was considerably impressed.
"I must say," he began, "even if you do not become shining lights as music critics, you are certainly qualified to become members of an Opera Company. But where is Mr. Krap--a Bohemian, I should say, from his name."