in place. Dorothy felt some
embarrassment in facing a room filled with those she considered critical
spectators, for the best society of all the Birchlands, as well as
cultured persons from Ferndale near by, had come to the entertainment.

The Brownlie girls played the violins. Dorothy gave them the "A" note, and
they put their instruments in tune, with that weird, fascinating
combination of chords which prelude the opening strains of enthralling
music. Then they began.

The first number received a generous encore, and the girls played again.
Then there was a suppressed murmur of expectancy--a picture was about to
be presented.

Slowly the curtains were drawn aside. The lights had been "doused" as Nat,
the acting stage manager, expressed it, and only a dim glow illuminated
the tableau.

An immense gilt frame, containing a landscape as a background. In front of
that the living pictures were posed. It was Jack Spratt and his
Wife--presented by Tavia and Roland.

The audience instantly recognized the illustration, and vigorous applause
greeted the tableau. Tavia was surely funny--so fat, and so comical, while
Roland looked like a human toothpick. The clean platter was cleaner than
even Mother Goose could have wished it, and, altogether, the first picture
was an unqualified success.

Tavia was shaking with nervousness when the curtain was pulled together,
and when, in response to an imperative demand from the audience, it was
parted again, Tavia could scarcely keep from laughing outright. It was one
of the difficult pictures, but the girl's talent for theatricals stood her
in good stead, while, as for Roland, he seemed too lazy to make any
blunders.

Tom, as "Jack Horner," came next. Fat! Numbers in the audience insisted
that he was the original "Roly-poly," but the big paper-covered pie
precluded all further argument. Tom held his thumb in that pie as
faithfully as ever a real, picture Jack Horner did. He had to pose for a
second view, and at that the throng was not satisfied, but Nat declared
that one encore was enough.

Then Little Bo-Peep appeared--fast asleep, lying on some fresh hay from
the Brownlie barn. And what a charming picture Dorothy did make!

She wore a light-blue skirt, with a dark bodice, and a big, soft straw
hat, tossed back on her head, did not hide the beauty of her abundant
locks. Her crook had fallen from her hand, and rested at the bottom of the
little mound of hay. It was a delightful re