"Nobody can.
I can remember my mistress a-singin' it as well as if it was only yesterday." "Do ye hear that--I've forgotten what name Hannah told me yours was ?" "Lavinia Fenton.

But please call me Lavinia." "So I will.

Now sit ye down, Lavinia, and talk to mother while I brew the tea." Lavinia was rather dismayed at finding she was to pit herself against the fascinating Moll whose charms had conquered the Merry Monarch--possibly no very arduous task.
The old lady was past eighty, but in possession of all her faculties.
When she said she remembered Moll Davies' singing perfectly well she probably spoke the truth.
Tea was over.

Betty cleared away and Lavinia at her request--to be correct--at her command, sang, keeping her eyes fixed on the old lady and so to speak singing _at_ her.
Before long the aged dame was mopping her eyes, and when Lavinia had finished the pathetic ballad she stretched out both her wrinkled hands towards the girl and in a quivering voice said:-- "Thank you, my dear.

Lor' ha' mercy, it takes me back sixty year.