were somewhat embarrassed when they rehearsed the dialogue after exchanging rôles and did not render the new parts with the power of which they were capable, the improvement was marked and brought forth much applause, which however was not to be compared with the hand clappings received the night of the performance—but that is another story.

Mrs. Bonner's double parlors were used, the front for the audience, which filled the room. All of the boarders attended, and the neighbors came, bringing their own chairs. The back parlor, ordinarily used as a dining-room, was the stage, the sliding doors making a good substitute for a curtain.

Mat had a funny speech by way of introduction; then Lois was called for a song about lovers meeting at the garden gate, which in her baby English she rendered, "Meet me at the Garbage Gate." An original poem by Laura was unexpectedly brought to light by a mischievous friend, and read in a sing-song style by Lafe Bonner:

"That poor old slate
I always did hate,
But I had to use it
At any rate.
One day by accident (?)
It fell on the floor,
It broke to pieces,
And I saw it no more."

Fortunately the author's blushes were hidden along with herself back in a corner of the stage. "It's the only 'pome' I ever executed and I felt like executing Lafe when I heard him reciting it," she explained later.

Nettie, looking more than ever like a great waxen doll in her pink gingham and golden curls, brought down the house by her recitation:

"Little Bobby, come to daddy!
Holdy up his tiny paddy,
Did he hurt his blessed heady?
Darling, come and get some bready,
Don'ty cry, poor little laddie,
Come and kiss his precious daddy."

Baby Elmer represented Bobby, and the little maid went through the piece with appropriate gestures, unconscious of her audience and not forgetting a word,—to the joy of her instructor, Laura, whose heart beat nervously while she watched the performance.

Mr. Frederick Dawson and a few of his companions had come in rather late and seats were found for them in the rear, as they refused to allow any at the front to be vacated for them. It was just before the doors opened on the great dialogue where Laura was the mother, in a neat wrapper and gray wig and spectacles, standing in the midst of an interesting family. The back of an easy chair served to support Ivy, who was dressed in white, with red sash and hair ribbons.

What spirit she put in her lines, all leading up to, and centering in, the wish for the young gazelle's light footfall, the rest being only a prelude to that!

Then the other little white-robed girl from her seat in the big chair rose to declare her wish. A color that was not all excitement glowed in her cheeks, thrilling Uncle Fred with the conviction that the Happy-Go-Luckys by banishing loneliness had brought the blessing of health to Alene.

It was her first appearance before the public, and the thought of it had brought her much nervous apprehension that she might forget her lines, falter, or even run away at the last moment. To perform even before the other boys and girls at rehearsal had always brought a preliminary nerve tension which she had tried to conceal. This, however, was nothing compared with her dread of the great night when she thought of facing a whole roomful of people; but now, strange to say, all her tremors died away. She found it less difficult to recite before the crowd than at rehearsal; she forgot herself in the joy of her lines. That she recited even better, if anything, than when her Uncle had overheard her in the library is all that need be said.

When the ensuing applause died away and the doors refused to open again, Uncle Fred noticed the lips of a small boy seated near him puffed out in disdain. Stooping with a show of solicitude to learn the cause, he heard him say to a companion:

"'A lip to tempt the honey-bee to sip'—I bet she never felt a stinger or she wouldn't wish for such a silly thing!"

"I don't see why that Dawson girl wants the poet's gift, 'the liar!' Do all poets tell whoppers, I wonder?" said the other boy, looking up into Uncle Fred's face with wide, wondering eyes.