want to play in your yard better. Why, Dr. Sinclair always asks me to sing After the ball, that old chestnut! It's just years old, but he likes it and I do it for him, though I much prefer to sing classical music like Tosti, or O, promise me, which I sing in the soprano key (you know it was written originally for Jessie Bartlett Davis).
Your voice is charming, the Countess found opportunity to say, and I hope you will make a great success.
. . . . ten pounds of granulated sugar, two pounds of pulverized sugar . . .
Yes, Miss Poore.
What kind of greens have you?
I'd like to sing for you, some day, just for you, Clara announced to the Countess. Could I bring some music to the house?
I'd love to have you, the Countess replied.
The beets is very nice, Miss Poore, the grocer cajoled in his treble pitch.
No, I don't want any beets. I guess that'll be all. O, no, I forgot the corn-meal. I want to have fried mush for breakfast tomorrow.
Yes, Miss Poore. How much?
Good morning, Clara.
Good morning, Miss Poore.
Good morning, Miss Barnes.
Good morning, Countess. Will you wait on me now, please, Mr. Ives.
