“Who is the lady who was singing as we came in?”
“Little Melba; she’s there with de goods, all right, ain’t she?”
“Tell her to come over here and have a drink.”
“Sure. Ha, Melba, you’re wanted over here,” he bawled, and smilingly she came.
“Will you have a drink?” asked the man who had sent for her.
“Wine?” she queried, “I’d rather have a glass of beer, if it’s all the same to you, for I’m thirsty enough to drink a keg. Then me for the wine afterward.”
After her drink had been ordered and she had tossed it off with the air of one who is well used to it, she remarked:
“Now I’ll hit a little of that fizz, if you don’t mind.”
“How long have you been singing here?”
“Oh, about six months. It’s a bum job, though. The smoke gets in my throat.”