Ben Ames Williams, Thrifty Stock, and Other Stories
“ No one ever saw Eph about the streets in the day time. He appeared at dusk; and it was known that he sometimes remained at his post, singing and picking at his banjo, long after the ways were empty of pedestrians. Sometimes, in those middle hours between night and morning, when there was no one near, the songs he sang became ineffably sad and mournful; he crooned them, under{270} his breath, to the banjo that he hugged against his breast, and his sweet old voice was like a low lament. ”
