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 414 RAISIN

"Now, if you please, re!"

The cantor sang out re-re-re.

The singer moved aside, appeared to be lost in thought, and then said, sadly:

"Gone I"

"Forever?"

"Well, are you a little boy? Are you likely to get another voice ? At your time of life, gone is gone !"

The cantor wrung his hands, threw himself down beside the table, and, laying his head on his arms, he burst out crying like a child.

Next morning the whole town had heard of the mis- fortune that the cantor had lost his voice.

"It's an ill wind " quoted the innkeeper, a well- to-do man. "He won't keep us so long with his trills on Sabbath. I'd take a bitter onion for that voice of his, any day !"