“I wouldn’t like to sing after all this fine music,” protested Molly. “Besides, I don’t know anything but darky songs.”
“The very girl we want for our Hallowe’en Vaudeville,” cried Jennie Wren. “What do you use, a guitar or a piano?”
“Either, a little,” answered Molly, blushing crimson; “but I haven’t any more voice than a rabbit.”
“Fire away,” cried Jennie Wren, thrusting a guitar into her hands.
Molly was actually trembling with fright when she found herself the center of interest in this musical company.
“I’m scared to death,” she announced. Then she struck a chord and began.—Page 60.
“I’m scared to death,” she announced, as she faintly tuned the guitar. Then she struck a chord and began:
“Ma baby loves shortnin’,
Ma baby loves shortnin’ bread;
Ma baby loves shortnin’,
Mammy’s gwine make him some shortnin’ bread.”