“Good boy!” cried Elmer; “I take it you’ve gone and got up some coon songs and choruses, and mean to let us come in strong on the last named.”
“That’s a little secret,” laughed Peg, “but it needn’t be held in any longer. Just the other day Susie Banks told me how she and Connie Swazy, the Judge’s pretty daughter, got up the music score for your words, Dick. And knowing what a fine musician Connie is I’m wild to hear the combination.”
“Well, all of you find soft spots, so if you drop flat at hearing some of the excruciating jokes my end-men get off you won’t be hurt much,” warned Dick, pretending to be very serious.
“We’re willing to risk all that, Dick,” Peg told him, confidently.
“One reason why we want to hear your farce, Dick, if you must know it,” said Elmer, frankly, “is this: You know we’ve every one of us been picked out by Mr. Holwell to take part in the minstrel show those two nights after New Year’s. Each fellow has some specialty to carry through; and then some of us are going to take a hand playing in the black farce, no matter which one wins the prize.”
“Yes,” added Peg, “and we’ve got a heap of personal interest in the matter besides. All of us are banking on you to win that twenty-five dollars in gold. We’re boosting your claims to beat the band.”
“Are you all ready, and prepared for the worst?” asked Dick, as he settled himself comfortably to read his little farce, on which he had spent many hours after the rest of the family had retired to their beds.
“Let her go, Dick; and do your best to bring out the strong points,” begged Peg.
“When I come to a song,” explained the author, “I’ll try to give it to you the best way I can, though better singers are to be chosen to carry the refrain, and one of them I understand is going to be Peg here.”
“How about the choruses—we all join in there, I understand?” demanded Elmer.