"I did not know we had such an audience."
"Don't stop, friends," said Mr. Taylor, coming into the room. "Such music
is quite a treat. I guess, Susan, there is more in that piano than you ever
dreamed of. Let us hear something else."
Lancy rose from the music-stool, saying to Dexie:
"Play 'The Mocking Bird,' and I'll sing to your whistle."
A moment later Dexie's supple fingers were dancing over the keys in a
delightful prelude. Then Lancy's voice filled the room as he sang the
well-known song, accompanied by the exquisite notes of the southern mocking
bird, and the continuous warble that poured from Dexie's throat during the
chorus made her listeners start as if a veritable bird were concealed in
the room.
"Well, that spoils the old proverb from this time forth," said Mr. Taylor,
as he leaned back against the wall and thrust his thumbs into the armholes
of his vest. "Whistling girls and crowing hens will hereafter have a chance
to be heard. Old saws ain't always true, eh, Miss Sherwood?"
"Well, I never heard a hen crow yet, Mr. Taylor," and Dexie laughed softly,
"and I do not know what is their usual fate, but the proverb does not alarm
me in the least.
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