I adore Confederates! They're the most glamorous,
romantic figures in American history. I wish a black mustache went
along with the cup and the house; don't you? It would make things so
much more interesting!" And she began to sing, at the top of her
voice, in the sad and faded room that hadn't heard a singing voice
these many, many years:
"'Arrah, Missis McGraw,' the Captain said,
'Will ye make a sojer av your son Ted?
Wid a g-r-rand mus-tache, an' a three-cocked hat,
Wisha, Missis McGraw, wouldn't you like that!
_You like that--tooroo looroo loo!_
_Wisha, Missis McGraw, wouldn't you like that!_'"
If Great-Aunt Sophronisba's ghost, and the scandalized ghosts of all
the haughy Hyndses ever intended to walk, now was the accepted time!
And as if that graceless ballad were the signal for something to
happen, upon the hall window-shutter sounded three loud, imperative
knocks.
Alicia dashed down the hall.
"Sophy!" she called, breathlessly, "Sophy!"
Framed in the open window, with the dripping trees and the slanting
rain behind him, was the bizarre, the astounding figure of a
gnomelike negro in a terra-cotta robe fastened about the waist with
a girdle made of a twisted black shawl with the most beautiful
Persian border and fringe.
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