voice, while Miss Putnam's mezzo-soprano was full and melodious and her
rendition fully as artistic as that of her companion. One, two, three,
four, five, six encores followed each other in quick succession, in
spite of Professor Strout's endeavors to quell the applause and take up
the next number. The ovation given earlier in the evening to Professor
Strout was weak in comparison with that vouchsafed to Quincy and Lindy
when they took their seats. In vain did the Professor strive to make
himself heard. Audience and chorus seemed to be of one mind. The
Professor, his face as red as a beet, turned to Ezekiel Pettengill and
said:

"That was a mighty impudent piece of business, don't you think so?"

"They're both mighty fine singers," Ezekiel responded in a rather
unsympathetic tone.

Quincy realized that something must be done to satisfy the demands of
the now thoroughly excited audience. Going to Miss James, he asked her a
question in a low voice, in reply to which she nodded affirmatively. He
next sought Miss Putnam and evidently asked her the same question,
receiving a similar answer. Then he led her forward, and she sang the
opening part of "Listen to the Mocking Bird." After they had sung the
chorus it was repeated on the piano and Quincy electrified the audience
by whistling it, introducing all the trills, staccatos, and roulades
that he had heard so many times come from under Billy Morris's big
mustache at the little Opera House on Washington Street, opposite Milk,
run by the Morris Brothers, Johnny Pell, and Mr. Trowbridge, and when he
finished there flashed through his mind a pleasant memory of Dr. Ordway
and his Aeolians. An encore was responded to, but the tumult still
continued. Turning to Ezekiel, Strout said: