"It was a first-class record, I'll say that. It was the male
barytone--one of them pleading voices that get all into you. It wasn't
half over before I seen Nettie was strongly moved, as they say, only she
was staring at Wilbur, who by now was leading the orchestra with one
graceful arm and looking absorbed and sodden, like he done it
unconsciously. Chester just set there with his mouth open, like
something you see at one of these here aquariums.

"We moved round some when it was over, while Wilbur was picking out just
the right needle for the other record, and so I managed to cut that lump
of a Chester out of the bunch and hold him on the porch till I got
Nettie out, too. Then I said 'Sh-h-h!' so they wouldn't move when Wilbur
let the mezzo-soprano start. And they had to stay out there in the
golden moonlight with love's young dream and everything. The lady singer
was good, too. No use in talking, that song must have done a lot of
heart work right among our very best families. It had me going again so
I plumb forgot my couple outside. I even forgot Wilbur, standing by the
box showing the lady how to sing.

"It come to the last--you know how it ends--'To kiss the cross,
sweetheart, to kiss the cross!' There was a rich and silent moment and I
says, 'If that Chet Timmins hasn't shown himself to be a regular male
teep by this time--' And here come Chet's voice, choking as usual, 'Yes,
paw switched to Durhams and Herefords over ten years ago--you see
Holsteins was too light; they don't carry the meat--' Honest! I'm
telling you what I heard. And yet when they come in I could see that
Chester had had tears in his eyes from that song, so still I didn't give
in, especially as Nettie herself looked very exalted, like she wasn't at
that minute giving two whoops in the bad place for the New Dawn.