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Updated: June 15, 2025
"La-la-la!" chanted Alice, about nothing in particular. The girls busied themselves getting tea. The kettle was soon singing on the gas stove, the crisp odor of toast had replaced the heavier one of cabbage, and the rarebit was almost ready to serve, when a step was heard out in the hall of the apartment house where the DeVere family had their New York home. "There's daddy!" exclaimed Alice.
'I must hook it, said Mr Colclough, picking up his dust-coat. 'Not yet you don't, said Mr Brindley. 'I've got to get the taste of that infernal Strauss out of my mouth. We'll play the first movement of the G minor? La-la-la la-la-la la-la-la-ta. He whistled a phrase. Mr Colclough obediently sat down again to the piano. The Mozart was like an idyll after a farcical melodrama.
"You have a queer way of showing your gladness," commented the other drily, shrugging her shapely shoulders. "Why, I can hardly keep still. La-la-la-la! La-la-la-la! La-la-la!" She hummed the air of a Viennese waltz song, meanwhile whirling gracefully about with extended arms, her dress floating about her balloonwise. "Oh, Alice! Don't!" objected her sister. "Can't help it, Ruth.
He distributed sheets of paper. "Act One, Opening Chorus. I will play the melody three four times. Follow attentively. Then we will sing it la-la-la, and after that we will sing the words. So!" He struck the yellow-keyed piano a vicious blow, producing a tinny and complaining sound.
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