with deep emotion, has
burst into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!

_Lady B._ Nay, 'tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are
less sad?

_Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful
than that. (_Sings._)

Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
When I used to be a happy darkie slave. (_Trump-a-trump._)
But now I'se got to labour wif de shovel an' de hoe--
For ole Massa lies a sleepin' in his grave! (_Trump-trump._)

_Chorus._

Poor ole Massa! Poor ole Massa! (_Pianissimo._) Poor ole Massa, dat I
nebber more shall see!
He was let off by de Jury, Way down in ole Missouri--But dey lynched him
on a persimmon tree.

_Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again,
but I am so very, very sleepy!

_Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
[_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch._

_Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go
to sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream
about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have
had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night
... goo'ni' ... goo ... goo! [_She sinks softly to sleep._

_Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little
sunbeam! 'Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet
as hers. (_Croons._) "Woa, LUCINDY," &c. "Dey tried him by a jury, way
down in ole Missouri, an' dey hung him to a possum-dip tree!" (_Goes
to couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she
slumbers! What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my
withered heart is sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and
hope! Let me try henceforth to be worthy of this dear child's
affection and respect. (_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, MONKSHOOD!
Then there is time yet! Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the
parcels!----

_Monks._ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.

[_Chord_: Lady B. _staggers lack, gasping, into chair. Little_ ELFIE
_awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes._

[N.B.--The reformation of a Grandmother being necessarily a process of
some length, the conclusion of this touching little Drama is
unavoidably deferred to a future number.]

* * * * *