“Splendid!” says Mrs. Hatch. “His actin’ and singin’ was both grand.”
“I preferred his actin’,” I says. “I thought his voice hissed in the downstairs radiators.”
This give them a good laugh, but they was soon at it again.
“And how sweet Alda was!” my Missus remarks.
“Which was her?” I ast them.
“The good girl,” says Mrs. Hatch. “The girl that sung that beautiful aria in Atto Three.”
“Atto girl!” I says. “I liked her too; the little Michaels girl. She came from Janesville.”
“She did!” says Mrs. Hatch. “How do you know?”
So I thought I’d kid them along.
“My uncle told me,” I says. “He used to be postmaster up there.”
“What uncle was that?” says my wife.
“He ain’t really my uncle,” I says. “We all used to call him our uncle just like all these here singers calls the one o’ them Daddy.”
“They was a lady in back o’ me,” says Mrs. Hatch, “that says Daddy didn’t appear tonight.”
“Prob’ly the Missus’ night out,” I says.
“How’d you like the Tor’ador?” says Mrs. Hatch.
“I thought she moaned in the chimney,” says I.