“I’ve heard music before; but this wasn’t the regular kind; it was something so amazin’ly over-mastering that I lost myself consummately, and when it got through I didn’t honestly know where I was. That little Doodles--my! I could hear the birds singin’ before sunrise just as plain, crooning an’ twittering as they will when it’s comin’ light, and then breakin’ out fit to burst their little throats, tryin’ to say good-morning to all the world at once! And in that other one I could see the sun dippin’ right down into a bed of gold, and the girl and feller that were in love with each other--why, I almost heard what they were whisperin’!--How does he do it!--that’s what I want to know--how does he do it?--just with those strings and a bow!” In the duet sung by Polly and David, most innocently asked for by Nelson Randolph, Polly had to summon all her strength to control her face and her voice. She would have declined, but David responded readily enough, and she would not be outdone by him. “If I cared for David now,” she afterwards told Nita, “I could never have sung it. All that troubled me was that it brought back the last night we sang together, when I loved him--or thought I did--and once or twice the memory almost overpowered me. But if you and Lilith say I didn’t show it, I will try to believe you.” David Collins, despite his seeming nonchalance at the start, had not been at his best as he went on. Once he took a false note; but whether because he was out of practice or from some other reason those who talked it over together could not decide.