The frame was in place with a dark background behind it, and stretching from either side of the frame to the side walls of the room were some old brocatelle curtains which Helen had found in Mrs. Gray's attic.

These curtained s.p.a.ces served as dressing rooms.

Besides the tableaux Helen had planned quite a little programme, and although much drilling had been necessary, each performer was perfect in her part.

Jotham Potts had, after much urging, agreed to read the programme, and Helen had promised to contribute a song, and a piano solo which should be the opening number.

The hum of conversation rose loud and cheery, and so lively did it become that it was impossible to hear a completed sentence.

"They say your Phbe's goin' to be a dreadful pretty picture to-night."

"What's she goin' to-"

"Wal', I dunno, seems Miss Dayton thinks our Jotham has a good voice, so she asked him to read the-I forgit what you call it, but anyhow I guess-"

"Yes, Miss Dayton says my hair is auburn and not red, and she says-"

"Why, ef here isn't Mis' Weston's little Prue!"

"Yes'm, I'm going to be one of the tab things, and sing a little tune what Miss Dayton learned-no, taught me," said the little girl, very proud to think that she had remembered the correction.

"Well, I think she's real nice to come up here and plan such good times," but here Helen tapped upon the piano, and the conversation ceased so abruptly that one might think that the audience held its breath.

The girls rushed behind the curtains on either side of the frame, and Jotham Potts, clearing his throat, read the first number for the evening.

Helen had drilled him in p.r.o.nouncing those names which he found difficult, and very clearly he read,-

"Our first number will be a piano solo by Miss Dayton, ent.i.tled, 'Marche Militaire.'"

Mr. Potts nudged his wife, saying, in a loud whisper, "Our Jotham did that just like a city feller, didn't he?" His wife e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "Sh-," but she smiled and nodded, for she was of the same opinion.

Helen in her white muslin looked very beautiful, as she took her seat at the piano. That piano was the only one in town, and the only one that many of the audience had ever heard. Helen was a good musician, and the piece, grand in itself, rang out brilliantly, to the great delight of every one present, and many were the words of praise which reached her ears when she arose. One voice, bolder than the others, said, "That's what I call great; just one more piece, Miss Dayton, ef it ain't asking too much."

This was an honest if unceremonious encore, so Helen seated herself once more, and for those simple country people played a brilliant polacca.

"Wal', 'twas all I could do to keep from dancin', I dew declare," said old Deacon Turnbull, which made every one laugh, as the deacon was a very dignified old man.

Helen rose and saying, "Now, Jotham," she stepped behind the curtains.

"Our next number," announced Jotham, "will be a tableau as nearly as possible like the painting ent.i.tled 'The Age of Innocence.'"

"That's it over there," said Mrs. Buffum to her husband, pointing at the photograph on the wall, and every one looked that way. When the curtain was drawn aside, there was chubby little Hitty Buffum, her hands clasped upon her breast, a wee bit of a smile on her parted lips-a very good counterpart of Sir Joshua Reynolds's picture.

"Oh! oh my! She looks just like it. Isn't she cunnin'?" and similar remarks greeted the little girl in the first tableau. She had done her very best for Miss Dayton. Then the curtain swung across the frame and Jotham announced, "The next number will be a song by little Miss Weston."

"I didn't know as the Weston children could sing, did you?" queried one neighbor, but there was no time for an answer, for little Prue had taken her place on the improvised platform, and Helen was playing a little prelude.

Mrs. Weston laid her hand upon her husband's arm. Would Prue, her little Prue, get through the song without faltering? She need not have feared.

Out rang the childish treble in the song which Miss Dayton had taught her. How fresh and clear the little voice sounded!

"Sometimes I am a daisy bloom, I make believe 'tis true, I play that all I ever eat Is early morning dew.

"Sometimes I am a b.u.t.terfly,- Just see my gauzy wings!

Sometimes I play I am a bird, Who only sits and sings.

"But always I am mama's girl, And papa's girlie, too, And next to them I love the best, I love each one of you."

Putting up her dimpled hands she daintily kissed her finger tips, made a very cunning little bow, and tripped back to Miss Dayton, saying, "Did I do it nice?"

"Just splendid, little Prue," said Jotham.

"Couldn't have been better," said old Mrs. Green.

Then Prue crept up on her father's lap to see "all the other tabs," she said.

"The 'Chapeau Blanc,' which Miss Dayton says means the White Hat,"

announced Jotham. This time the curtain swept aside to disclose Phbe Small's little face beneath a hat with white gauzy ruffles upon the brim, and a feather held in place by a knot of blue ribbon. A pearly kerchief about the shoulders was most becoming to Phbe, whose usually expressionless face looked almost piquant under the saucy white hat and feather.

"Don't she look like a photograph?" whispered Mrs. Small, "and a good deal nicer, if I do say it as shouldn't," and Mrs. Small looked around with a sniff at those present who possibly thought their daughters prettier.

Now, Phbe's princ.i.p.al defects were an abundance of freckles, and an absence of character in her small face; but the costume was becoming, and the freckles not apparent in the light in which she was posed; so her heart was delighted with words of commendation, and she hoped that Jotham Potts had seen her tableau.

As a matter of fact, Jotham had not seen her; for, having announced that number, he had sat down and waited for Miss Dayton to appear. The next number on the programme was his, and now Helen stepped from behind the curtain to announce it.

"We will now listen to a solo by Jotham Potts."

"Oh! oo! oo! Does your Jotham sing?" asked Mrs. Brimblecom of Mrs.

Potts.

"Why, no; leastways I never heard him," said Jotham's mother, with a twinkle in her eyes, for did she not know of Jotham's evenings spent in practising this very solo with Miss Dayton's accompaniment?

Randy had said one day to Helen, "You'd ought to hear Jotham Potts whistle. He does it just splendid. It sounds just like the brook rippling."

When Helen made her plans for the entertainment, she invited him to give a whistling solo.

"Oh, I'd do anything to 'blige you, Miss Dayton, but who'd want to hear me whistle?" said Jotham.

Then Helen told the boy how many people gave whistling solos in the city, with a piano accompaniment, and Jotham consented to "jest try it"

with the piano.

After announcing the number, Helen seated herself, and played a pretty little prelude, and then Jotham commenced to whistle a simple piece which Helen played, called "The Alpine Echo," in which there was an imitation of an Alpine horn, followed by echoing notes an octave higher.

Jotham was, indeed, a charming whistler, and as his courage rose, his notes sounded true and flutelike, making the song and echoes, the piano ever aiding him, until with a final thrill and flourish he finished his solo, and, blushing and bowing, retired.

The little a.s.sembly was much excited and there were repeated calls for one more whistling solo, and cries of "fine," and "that beats all," and "whistle just once more, Jotham." So Helen resumed her seat at the piano, and this time Jotham whistled a medley in which were heard "The Girl I Left Behind Me," "Yankee Doodle," and "The Star-Spangled Banner."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "There stood Randy as the Demure little Maid"]

"Hooray for Jotham and Miss Dayton, I say!" shouted Reuben Jenks, and everybody cheered.