"You do your part well, Peggy," said the young man.

Alene's blushes of pleasure faded suddenly.

"But it's not my part, it's Ivy's! Why does everyone think when you're rich that's all you are good for or can wish for! This is my part,"

and she pointed tragically at the detested verse.

"Ah, I see," said Uncle Fred, glancing at the lines. "It's a pretty thing. 'Tis a pity to have it spoiled, as I fear it will be, since you dislike it. "Why not suggest a change?"

"I'm afraid Laura would feel hurt; besides it is more suitable to Ivy as she is a poet!"

"The very reason she may wish for something else!"

"Anyway, she said the verse in a sing-song style that just spoiled it!"

declared Alene.

"Poor stage manager! It's almost as bad as being the leader of a choir! Pity Laura's not a mind reader! But why not be perfectly honest with her, and tell her how you feel about it; perhaps Ivy has no preference in the matter."

Alene thought that was out of the question; besides it would be selfish to want Ivy's part, just because she herself preferred it; poor Ivy, who, though so clever, was never quite happy.

"Then act on the Golden Rule; but don't spoil it by murdering the dialogue in revenge," said Uncle Fred. To which Alene a.s.sented, though she declared it was very hard.

"Since Laura's stars refuse to shine, why doesn't she call on me? Now, I rather fancy the part," said the young man; and taking the paper with an air of solemnity that the twinkling of his eyes belied, he proceeded to read the verse with an exaggerated air, emphasizing the wrong words and using gestures which seemed so funny to Alene that she threw herself on the rug and screamed with laughter. The noise attracted Mrs. Major and Kizzie, who reached the door in time to witness the bewildering wind-up, as the actor, dwelling softly on the words,

"And for a fairy foot as light As is the young gazelle's in flight."

gave his right foot an upward movement bringing his toe in contact with the chandelier, and then executed a backward kicking act I am sure no gazelle, old or young, would wish to emulate.

CHAPTER VII

THEATRICALS

The rehearsals went on. Alene and Ivy recited their parts in the dialogue in the same listless way, secretly criticising each other's rendition, but Laura, busy in directing and arranging so many things, failed to notice the discontent of those two important members of the Company.

It was only their love of the manager that kept them silent, and even then it was a hard task, considering Alene's ingenuousness and Ivy's impulsiveness, both traits alike foes to concealment.

At the last meeting before the great event, everything seemed to go wrong; the little ones forgot their lines or refused to obey the stage manager, declaring she was cranky, and threatening to throw up their parts and go out on the hillside to play; the boys were in a mischievous mood and teased their sisters unmercifully; Laura was on the point of tears, which fact Alene discovered by her unusual rigidity of countenance.

Laura crying would be something terrible! Alene had seen the others whimper and complain. She had been present when Ivy, in her sudden fierce pa.s.sions of anger, would attack the little ones viciously with her crutches, unless they had previously stolen them away; in which event she would gnash her teeth, and stamp her feet, in powerless rage, and only Laura could bring peace by banishing her tormentors. But no matter what happened, Laura seemed a rock upon which to lean, and if, in adjusting a grievance, she sometimes failed to use tact, and the remedy proved worse than the disease, they knew in their hearts she was acting in good faith, trying to do what was right.

Therefore it behooved Alene upon this occasion to redouble her efforts to be helpful and cheering.

She won over the babies by promising them each a beautiful doll out of the trunkful she had at home; whereupon the big boys promised to be good if she would give them one also, but Alene took their chaffing good-naturedly and things began to proceed more smoothly.

The last thing on the program, "The Wishes," was called.

Laura, strange to say, for the first time found fault.

"Oh, Ivy, _do_ put a little animation into it! One would think you were delivering a funeral oration," she cried testily.

Ivy's nerves, overwrought by the preceding irritations, gave way:

"Well, no wonder, for I hate it!"

"Hate that? Why, it's the finest thing in the whole piece; even the mother says 'a n.o.ble gift,' while she chides Alene for wanting mere beauty!"

Ivy's thin cheeks were like crimson roses. "I'd rather be a dancing beauty than a broken-winged robin!" she declared defiantly.

"And I'd rather be a poet than go mincing through the world with just a pretty face!" exclaimed Alene.

"Oh, Alene, would you really like my part?" cried the astonished Ivy.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Why, because I thought anyone would prefer it to that detestable beauty part! Why didn't you speak out?"

Now it would have taken quite a long explanation, each having, as we know, several reasons for not having spoken, so they only looked at each other and laughed.

Laura glanced from one speaker to the other, her look of surprise changing to compunction.

"Oh, girls, why didn't I ask you which verse you preferred instead of portioning it off as I thought you would like?" she queried ruefully.

While they sought to rea.s.sure her, Mrs. Lee entered the room, and learning the cause of the excitement, said:

"That's just like Laura! The other morning I heard a great uproar. In I came to find Laura helping to dress Lois, insisting upon putting a certain shoe on her foot, while she cried against it. I investigated and found--"

"That I was bent on cramming her fat little footsie into a shoe two sizes too small for her--I had picked up Elmer's shoe in mistake!"

Although Ivy and Alene were somewhat embarra.s.sed when they rehea.r.s.ed the dialogue after exchanging roles 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 subst.i.tute 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.