on
represented some of the celebrated portraits for their benefit, with the
aid of such properties as the room afforded.

"Portrait of a young girl, by Sir Peter Lely," announced the clear
voice; and the audience turned their heads, to behold a demure visage
framed by braided hairy a white towel pinned severely across the
shoulders, and a milk-white blossom held in a mittened hand. The chintz
curtain with its bouquets of flowers made an admirable background for
the youthful figure, and the lamb-like innocence of expression was
touching to behold. Eunice gripped her companion's arm and pointed
breathlessly to the feet peeping out beneath the short white skirt. The
flat black shoes with the sandal-like crossings were the exact
counterpart of those in the picture; but how in the name of mystery had
Peggy managed to produce them? Eunice discussed the question with
Mellicent in the pause during which they were requested to "look the
other way," and had reached the solution of goloshes and ribbon, when
"Gloriana, by Rubens!" was introduced to their notice.

Miss Peggy reclined against a background of cushions, beamingly
conscious of a transformation so complete as to be positively startling
to behold. A trio of sponges pinned round the head gave the effect of
an elaborate coiffure, above which was perched a scarlet turban
decorated by half-a-dozen brooches, holding in position as many
feathers; a blue dressing-gown opened over an underskirt composed of an
eiderdown quilt, which gave an appropriately portly air to the figure,
and by some mysterious process a double chin had been produced for the
occasion! Gasps of delight from the bed greeted this masterpiece; but
the third impersonation was most successful of all, when the audience
shrieked aloud to behold Lady Macbeth glaring upon them from a yard's
distance, enveloped in bath sheets, and wearing such an expression of
horror on her face as chilled the blood to behold!

"Not all the spices of Arabia can sweeten this little hand!" hissed
Peggy, shaking her little paw in the air, while Mellicent screamed with
delight and pounded the ground with her heels, and Eunice lay prone
against the bedpost in a silent paroxysm of laughter. To see Eunice
Rollo laugh was a delightful experience, and one which was worth some
trouble to enjoy. Not a sound issued from her lips, not an exclamation
marked her enjoyment; like a helpless image she sat, and shook, and
trembled, and quive