She can play Chopin just as well as she can play Sousa, and she will
tactfully strike up "It's Always Fair Weather" when she sees a crowd
of young fellows sit down at a table; "There'll Be a Hot Time in the
Old Town Tonight" to welcome a lad in khaki; and the very latest fox
trot for the party of girls and young men from uptown, who look as
though they were dying to dance. She plays the "Marseillaise" for
Frenchmen, and "Dixie" for visiting Southerners, and "Mississippi" for
the frequenters of Manhattan vaudeville shows. And, then, at the right
moment, her skilled fingers will drift suddenly into something
different, some exquisite, inspired melody--the soul-child of some
high immortal--and under the spell the noisy crowd grows still for a
moment. For even at the Black Cat they have not forgotten how to
dream.
Probably the Black Cat inspired many other Village restaurants--the
Purple Pup for instance.
The Purple Pup is a queer little place. It is in a most exclusive and
aristocratic part of the Square--in the basement of one of the really
handsome houses, in fact.
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