“Now, then, ‘The Ole Gray Hoss.’”
As the last notes died away he tried to smile again:
“One more—‘Hard Times an’ Wuss er Comin‘.’”
With deft, sure touch and soft negro dialect she sang it through.
“Now, didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t fool me? No Yankee girl could play and sing these songs, I’m in heaven, and you’re an angel.”
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to flirt with me, with one foot in the grave?”
“That’s the time to get on good terms with the angels—but I’m done dead——”
Elsie laughed in spite of herself.
“I know it,” he went on, “because you have shining golden hair and amber eyes instead of blue ones. I never saw a girl in my life before with such eyes and hair.”
“But you’re young yet.”