"No, you don't! Another verse! sing anoth'-- Tsh-sh-sh!".... She
sang:
"Den come de man-drake and de moose,
Den come de man-drake and de moose,
Den come de man-drake and de moose,
De hickory-pottamus and de goose.
Do you belong----?"
Belong? How could they help but belong? Was ever anything such fun? Not
itself, maybe, but she! And no more could Ramsey help belonging to them,
though thoughts of the texas and of the immigrant deck--where the
carpenter's saw played an interlude to her every verse--pierced her
heart at each throb of her pulse and of the boat's pulse and at every
glimpse of the scowling twins, dimly visible to her just beyond the
footlights. Silence fell once more as she moved a step forward with a
light in her eyes, a life in her poise, that made her a pure joy, albeit
an instinct warned her that her tide was at the flood and she must make
her exit on this wave. So with a light toss as if to say, "Positively
last appearance," she sang:
"Den d'rattlesnake and de antidote,
De rattlesnake and de antidote,
De rattlesnake and de antidote,
De rangitang and de billy-goat.
Do you belong----?"
The applause was as lively as ever and increased with each step of her
bowing retreat.
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