question was the choice of the
tableau.

"Something pleasant, children, I beseech you," said Mrs. Davilow; "I
can't have any Greek wickedness."

"It is no worse than Christian wickedness, mamma," said Gwendolen,
whose mention of Rachelesque heroines had called forth that remark.

"And less scandalous," said Rex. "Besides, one thinks of it as all gone
by and done with. What do you say to Briseis being led away? I would be
Achilles, and you would be looking round at me--after the print we have
at the rectory."

"That would be a good attitude for me," said Gwendolen, in a tone of
acceptance. But afterward she said with decision, "No. It will not do.
There must be three men in proper costume, else it will be ridiculous."

"I have it," said Rex, after a little reflection. "Hermione as the
statue in Winter's Tale? I will be Leontes, and Miss Merry, Paulina,
one on each side. Our dress won't signify," he went on laughingly; "it
will be more Shakespearian and romantic if Leontes looks like Napoleon,
and Paulina like a modern spinster."

And Hermione was chosen; all agreeing that age was of no consequence,
but Gwendolen urged that instead of the mere tableau there should be
just enough acting of the scene to introduce the striking up of the
music as a signal for her to step down and advance; when Leontes,
instead of embracing her, was to kneel and kiss the hem of her garment,
and so the curtain was to fall. The antechamber with folding doors lent
itself admirably to the purpose of a stage, and the whole of the
establishment, with the addition of Jarrett the village carpenter, was
absorbed in the preparations for an entertainment, which, considering
that it was an imitation of acting, was likely to be successful, since
we know from ancient fable that an imitation may have more chance of
success than the original.

Gwendolen was not without a special exultation in the prospect of this
occasion, for she knew that Herr Klesmer was again at Quetcham, and she
had taken care to include him among the invited.

Klesmer came. He was in one of his placid, silent moods, and sat in
serene contemplation, replying to all appeals in benignant-sounding
syllables more or less articulate--as taking up his cross meekly in a
world overgrown with amateurs, or as careful how he moved his lion paws
lest he should crush a rampant and vociferous mouse.

Everything indeed went off smoothly and according to expectation--all
that was improvised