Mrs. G. Them Folgers could allus be depended on to do the right thing; believed in ekality from the beginnin’. Old Ben Franklin was one on ’em, and Lucreshy Mott. They ain’t a bit like some o’ them Nantucket Halletts—allus on the wrong side of ekality.
Phus. Lor’ bress Cap’n Mary Miller, cap’n of de Keyhole’s Bride. (Seizes his banjo, sings uproariously, and dances about.)
Bress de men at Washington,—’Lijah cum down,
Dat made a woman cap’n,—’Lijah cum down.
But bress above dem all,—’Lijah cum down.
Good Seketelly Folger,—’Lijah cum down.
May de charyott ob Erlijah swing him softly up to (Slower) Heben,
An’ Mary Miller’s blessin’ be his eberlastin’ crown.
Mrs. G. (to him, aside). You go’n see ef he ain’t a-comin’. I can’t hold in much longer. (Exit Phus, R.)
Patsy. Faix, mum, I’ll shthay wid ye as lang as ye varnt.