A. (who has just entered). Av coorse we will.
M. I aint a-goin’ to sing anyway.
K. (sarcastically). Yer vice won’t be missed, Miss Finnegan.
J. Allow me to lade yez to the pianner.
(Katy takes his arm and goes to the piano, L. C., where she seats herself.)
K. (turning around). What can ye sing, ladies?
J. You choose the song for us.
K. Well, thin, it’s a midley I’ll play, an’ then ye can sing what ye plaze.
(She commences drumming on the piano, and her companions, grouped around her, sing, each one a different piece, a short one. Enter Pat., R., who dances round the stage till the close of the singing.)
P. (going to Katy and speaking in a low tone, but loud enough for all to hear). Say, Katy, I’ve been down-town, an’ got some ice-crame. It’s downstairs now. We’re going to have a big trate byme-by.