“To give you plenty of time to sing.”
“Sing! Me—sing all day?” cried Maggie, amazed.
“Sing when you like and as often, but at certain times of each day you must sing and practice just the way the teacher wants you to.”
“What teacher—have we a singin’ teacher here?” gasped Maggie.
“We intend having one, and she is coming down today to start those pupils who really have good voices. I think you have a good voice but she can judge better than I. If she says you can sing, will you promise to practice?”
“Oh, Mister Uncle Ben,—will I?” came from Maggie in a trembling whisper.
“Den maybe I kin sing like dose angels in Fift Avenoo churches, hey?” added Maggie after a moment’s thought.
“Just like them, I hope—may be sweeter than they sing!”
“Oh no, Mister Uncle Ben! Never could a poor kid like me sing better’n ’em!”
“But you wouldn’t be poor if you had a fine voice,” ventured Uncle Ben, carefully watching his protégé.