"Romeo and Juliet again," cried Ernestine eagerly. "Oh Bea, beg him to,
for there are some other parts that I want to see how to do."

"Do!" echoed Kittie, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Just what I say. I'll show you how they do; shall I, Bea?" exclaimed
Ernestine, springing gayly into the sunshine and striking an attitude.

"Yes, go on; you do it beautifully," said Bea; so Ernestine plunged
blithely into the play, thoroughly entrancing her three listeners with
the ease and grace with which she spoke and acted, and receiving showers
of applause as she paused.

"How delightful," cried Kittie, in a longing rapture.

"Nonsense," exclaimed Kat, who had listened intently with her nose
steadily on the ascent, "It looks all very pretty and nice here, but I
should think anybody would feel like a fool to get out on a stage and go
ranting about like that."

"Oh! it's too delightful," cried Ernestine, as Bea passed no comment
except a little sigh. "I shall run away some day sure as the world and
become a great actress; then I'll be rich and famous and you'll all
forgive me."

"I thought you always wanted to sing," said Kittie, chewing grass
thoughtfully, as she meditated on this new and startling talent and
wondered what would next develop.

"So I do, but I shall sing and act both. Now then pretend that I am
Marguerite, in Faust, you know, and see if you don't think I can do
both, as well as one." So they all looked and listened, while she sang
and sang, 'till the very birds hushed their music in envious listening,
and the rustling leaves seemed to grow still in very amaze. The sunshine
danced over her bright hair, and the lovely face flashed with a radiant
excitement that showed how deep an enjoyment even the pretense was to
her.

[Illustration: "O ERNESTINE, HOW LOVELY!"]

Rapturous applause followed, and a new voice cried out, "Oh! Ernestine,
how lovely; do it over," and turning, they beheld an additional three to
the audience. Jean leaning on her little crutch, wild with delight;
Olive, tall and still with a curl on her lip to match the scowl on her
forehead; and mother,--but what was the matter with mother, Bea
wondered. She was very pale, and though she smiled, it did not hide the
tremble that hung to her colorless lips.

CHAPTER II.

AROUND THE FIRE.

A September twilight was coming on slowly, and in the grass the crickets
chirped back and forth to each other. The house was all open, and
through the win