the stage--you in it singing in a
low sweet voice 'Loch Lomond.'"

"What!"

"Sure thing."

"What in Sam Hill has 'Loch Lomond' gotter do with 'Uncle Tom's
Cabin!'" demanded William truculently. "Them niggers never even heard
of it, I'll bet."

"Well, this ain't no ordinary Uncle Tom's show, let me tell you that,"
retorted the manager. "We've doctored it up quite a bit. It's too
slow for our bunch the way it is put on by most companies."

"But 'Loch Lomond' in a nigger show! Gee! you're crazy. Next thing I
know you'll want me to wear kilts."

"I never thought of that," said the manager thoughtfully; "but, say,
that would be an elegant stunt. Let's do it."

"Not with my legs," said William. "Didjer ever see 'em? They're about
as fat as fishing rods."

"All the better. It'll bring the house down, I tell you."

"Well, I don't want any house falling on me the way that'll be liable
to when it sees me in kilts and me face black--'oh! mother, mother,
mother, pin some clothes on me,'" he concluded sarcastically. But in
the end William was won over, and he entered into the rehearsals with a
whole-hearted determination that gladdened the manager's heart, and
made half of the rest of the cast jealous.

You who discriminate in the choice of plays; who talk learnedly of the
art of Irving, Mansfield, Forbes Robertson, and Miller; you should have
seen that presentation given to a packed house. There were all of
three hundred people in the Berkeley Junior Dramatic Society's club
house that night, and every one of them parted with coin of the realm
to the amount of one quarter of a dollar for admission, and never a one
complained that he or she didn't get all of it back in real value.

The scenery and all accessories, including the costumes, were
home-made. Who can value the loving care and thoughtfulness that
mothers and sisters put into every stitch of those costumes; with what
interest they studied the play, as "doctored," in order that the
garments might be historically correct? And who shall fittingly
describe William's kilts, as made by Mrs. Turnpike from a Scottish
shawl? William appeared in the first scene, without having anything to
say, but the costume spoke for him. There was a shout of laughter as
he walked across the stage for the first time, to be renewed when a
shrill voice invited all and sundry to "pipe them legs." The audience
piped them--they were encased in black stockings--and laughed ag