"I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. ” “Alcide’s songs are not atrocious,” Ennison remarked. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. “I don’t see, Mollie,” he remarked, taking a cigar from the box on the table as his sister and daughter rose, “why you and Vee shouldn’t discuss this little affair —whatever it is—without bothering me. "Well, well; I have given out of my wisdom. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
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