But Mary could sing like a vaudeville star,
and whistle like a newsboy.
„Where, O where, do you suppose Mary
learned those songs?“ asked Catharine in
amazement. It was a Sunday morning in
June; Mary had wakened with the dawn — it is
remarkable how early the dawn comes on a
June morning in Arizona, — we were trying to
sleep, and Mary was trying to sing, and
Victory was perching high on Mary’s banner.
She was lying on her cot out in the yard, sing-
ing the popular songs of the last twenty years
with geological regularity, and she never
slighted a verse.
She started in the Archaean age with „Cricket
on the Hearth,“ then came the Paleozoic with
„Grandfather’s Clock,“ and so on up through
„Silver Threads among the Gold,“ „After the
Ball,“ „Two Little Girls in Blue,“ „Sweet
Marie,“ „Dolly Gray,“ and „Hiawatha,“ but
praises be to Allah she drew the line on coon
songs.
