No sooner had her rich mezzo-soprano voice swelled with the piano accompaniment than the entire hall fell silent. Everyone turned toward her to look and listen entranced. For a moment after the last notes faded softly there was a breathless hush, then a storm of applause.
“More,” someone called out.
“Give us another,” a marine demanded.
Kitty leaned over and whispered to Sergeant Bradshaw at the piano. Laughing, he began the Australian folk song that was such a rage, Waltzing Matilda. Kitty sang the first verse, glancing around the room with her flashing smile as the words raced from her lips. Then at the chorus she lifted her hands with an impelling movement and said, “Everybody sing.” Instantly the room rocked with nonsense and rhythm.
After the storm subsided Kitty sang Tipperary. While they clapped at the conclusion she ran off to the Canteen kitchen. Ned Miller was sent in to drag her out. She thrust her head through the doorway to call, “It’s my night to wash dishes.”
“We’ll wash the dishes,” came a chorus in retort.
“Against the rules. I’ll sing another night.”
She was flushed and buoyantly happy when she closed the door and turned back toward the sink.
“Gosh, you oughtn’t to be washing dishes!” exclaimed Sally. “Anybody with a voice like that!”
“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Kitty. “They’re badly in need of dish washers, and they obviously don’t need singers.”