angels pass.

CHORUS:

"Sleep, ma baby, mammy can't let you go.
Sleep, ma baby, de angels want you sho!
De angels want you, guess I know,
But mammy hol' you, hol' you tight jes' so.

"Sleep, ma baby, close youah lil fingahs, Meah,
Loo-la, Loo-la, tight about ma fingahs heah,
De dawk come close, but baby don' you nebbeh feah,
Youah mammy'll hol' you, hol' you till de mawn appeah.

"Sleep, ma baby, why you lie so col', so col'?
Loo-la, Loo-la, do Massa want you for His fol'?
But, baby, honey, don' you know youah mammy's ol'
An' want you, want you, oh, she want you jes' to hol'."

A long silence followed the song. The girl laid her guitar down and sat
quietly looking straight before her, while Barney played the refrain
over and over. The simple pathos of the little song, its tender appeal
to the mother-chords that somehow vibrate in all human hearts, reached
the deep places in the honest hearts of her listeners and for some
moments they stood silent about her. It was with an obvious effort that
Dick released the tension by crying out, "Partners for four-hand reel."
Instantly the company resolved itself into groups of four and stood
waiting for the music.

"Strike up, Barney," cried Dick impatiently, shuffling before Iola, whom
he had chosen for his partner. But Barney, handing the violin to his
father, slipped back into the shadow where his mother and Margaret were
standing. The boy's face was pale through its swarthy tan.

"Come away," he said to his mother in a strained, unnatural voice.

"Isn't she beautiful?" cried Margaret impulsively.

"Is she? I didn't notice. But great goodness! What a voice!"

"Um, some will be thinking so, I doubt," said Mrs. Boyle grimly, with a
sharp glance at her son.

But Barney had become oblivious to her words and glances. He moved away
as in a dream to make ready for the home going of his party, for soon
the dancers would be at Sir Roger's. Nor did he waken from his dream
mood during the drive home. He could hear Dick chattering gaily to
Margaret and his mother of his College experiences, but except for an
occasional word with his father he sat in silence, gazing not upon the
fields and woods that lay in all their moonlit glory about them, but
upon that new world, vast, unreal, yet vividly present, whose horizon
lay beyond the line of vision, the world of his imagination, where he
must henceforth li