And this old worn-out stuff which is threadbare to-day,
May become everlasting To-morrow!”
Stubbs wished to supplement this with “Riding down to Bangor,” but was firmly suppressed, and Wiggie was called in to keep him in order and supply his share of the entertainment.
“It’s fearful cheek to ask you!” Lancaster apologised, “but they don’t know what a big favour it is, and they’ll like it no end. You might just give us something to send us home happy, if you’re not afraid of your voice.”
“I’ll sing with pleasure!” Wiggie said contentedly, standing up beside Lancaster’s chair with the same childlike detachment that he showed on a public platform. He did not begin at once, though, because he found the last song very difficult to follow, but after a moment or two he gave them “The Song of Good Heart” in a half-whisper sweet as mountain church-bells, more as if he were thinking it than singing it.
“Give, dear O Lord,
Fine weather in its day,
Plenty on the board,
And a Good Heart all the way.
Kind soil for the share,