"He's dead right," put in Smith, "the single singing--solos, I believe they call them--in the first part will be a hard nut to crack. We can't give a minstrel show without a first part. They'd never believe we were operatic minstrels without it, even if we didn't black up." "Hold! Enough!" cried Handy, in his favorite Macbeth voice. "You make me a bit tired with this kind of baby talk. Haven't you fellows got common sense enough to know that it is not absolutely necessary to have a voice to be a singer? Suppose a singer once had a voice and lost it, would that be a good and sufficient reason for him or her to get out of the business? How many of them do it, eh? It is just the same with the singing trade as it is in our overcrowded profession. How many of the so-called actors that inundate the stage quit the boards when they know--if they know anything--they have no talent for it. You fellows give me a pain. Voices and singing! Pshaw! I'll fix all that! I'll give a couple of you good high-sounding Eyetalian names, and I'll announce you as hailing from the Royal Imperial Conservatory of Stockholm, and I'd like to see the Long Island jay that will say you couldn't sing, even if you had as little music in your voice as the acrobatic star of a comic opera company." "And now will you be good?" playfully chirruped in Smith. "Now, Nibsy, you will have to tackle a solo; and as you are to be announced as a foreigner, you must treat your audience to something different from anything they have heard before. As you will sing it, of course, none of those present, with, possibly, the exceptions of a few, will undertake to understand what you are driving at. A few will pretend they do--there are know-alls in every audience; the majority will take their cue from them, and that will settle the matter." "I tumble. But might I ask if you have any choice in the operatic selection." "No; none in particular, only that you must avoid any of the very familiar airs from 'Faust,' 'Trovatore,' or 'Lohengrin.' These great works have been so hackneyed by frequent repetitions at the Metropolitan Opera House and Hammerstein's, and Sunday sacred concerts, that they have been worn threadbare and become as commonplace as 'Mr. Dooley' or 'Harrigan.' Now let me think. Ah, yes! Have you heard that comparatively new opera by Punch and Ella called 'Golcondo?'" "Search me. No." "Well, then, I don't think the audience have either," replied Handy, "so your first solo will be from that delightful composition!" "And for the encore, what?" "The last part over again, if you can remember it, and we'll help you out in the chorus." "Say, can't you let me know the name I am going to honor? And, by the way, there's one thing more I wish to be enlightened on. Will it be necessary for me to speak with a foreign accent before the show, in case I come across any of the inhabitants of the town before I go on?"