"
With a plaintive quirk of the voice the singer paused, gayly flicked the
strings of the banjo, then put her hand flat upon them to stop the
vibration and smiled round on her admirers. The group were applauding
heartily. A chorus said, "Another verse, please, Mrs. Detlor."
"Oh, that's all I know, I'm afraid," was the reply. "I haven't sung it for
years and years, and I should have to think too hard--no, no, believe me,
I can't remember any more. I wish I could, really."
A murmur of protest rose, but there came through the window faintly yet
clearly a man's voice:
"Look up an look aroun,
Fro you burden on de groun"--
The brown eyes of the woman grew larger. There ran through her smile a
kind of frightened surprise, but she did not start nor act as if the
circumstance were singular.
One of the men in the room--Baron, an honest, blundering fellow--started
toward the window to see who the prompter was, but the host--of intuitive
perception--saw that this might not be agreeable to their entertainer and
said quietly: "Don't go to the window, Baron. See, Mrs. Detlor is going to
sing."
Baron sat down. There was an instant's pause, in which George Hagar, the
host, felt a strong thrill of excitement. To him Mrs. Detlor seemed in a
dream, though her lips still smiled and her eyes wandered pleasantly over
the heads of the company.
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