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"There's a heap of sentiment connected with this affair. You see, outside of being a prize that we won at considerable risk, there goes with this phonograph a set of records, among which we all have our special favorites. Have you ever heard Madam-o-sella Melby sing The Holy City?" "I didn't know she sang it," said Speed. "Take it from me, she did, and you've missed a heap."
Carara smiled at Cloudy, who nodded, as if pleased by the compliment. Then it was that the Flying Heart spokesman made an inquiry in hushed, hesitating tones. "How do you like The Holy City" he removed his hat, as did those back of him. "As sung by Madam-o-sella Melby?" "Rotten!" Gallagher said promptly. "That's a bum, for fair."
He'd switch on the Echo Phonograph and doze off like a babe in arms, for the tender notes of Madam-o-sella Melby in The Holy City would soothe and comfort him like the caressin' hand of a young female woman." "I begin to feel your loss," said Speed, gravely. "Gentlemen, I can only assure you I shall do my best." "Then you won't take no chances?" inquired Willie, mildly.
"I go." "And don't waste no time neither," directed Willie. "You tear like a jack-rabbit ahead of a hot wind." Carara tossed his cigarette aside, and the sound of his spurs was lost around the corner of the house. "This makes a boy of me," the last speaker continued. "I can hear the plaintiff notes of Madam-o-sella Melby once again."
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