in's
downfall and death.

The boys enjoyed this part intensely, and cries of "Go it, Ben!" "Hit
him again, Billy!" "Two against one isn't fair!" "Thorny's a match for
'em." "Now he's down, hurray!" cheered on the combatants, till, after a
terrific struggle, the tyrant fell, and with convulsive twitchings of
the scarlet legs, slowly expired while the ladies sociably fainted in
each other's arms, and the brothers waved their swords and shook hands
over the corpse of their enemy.

This piece was rapturously applauded, and all the performers had to
appear and bow their thanks, led by the defunct Bluebeard, who mildly
warned the excited audience that if they "didn't look out the seats
would break down, and then there'd be a nice mess."

Calmed by this fear they composed themselves, and waited with ardor for
the next play, which promised to be a lively one, judging from the
shrieks of laughter which came from behind the curtain.

"Sanch 's going to be in it, I know; for I heard Ben say, 'Hold him
still; he won't bite,'" whispered Sam, longing to "jounce up and down,
so great was his satisfaction at the prospect, for the dog was
considered the star of the company.

"I hope Bab will do something else, she is so funny. Wasn't her dress
elegant?" said Sally Folsum, burning to wear a long silk gown and a
feather in her hair.

"I like Betty best, she's so cunning, and she peeked out of the window
just as if she really saw somebody coming," answered Liddy Peckham,
privately resolving to tease mother for some pink roses before another
Sunday came.

Up went the curtain at last, and a voice announced "A Tragedy in Three
Tableaux." "There's Betty!" was the general exclamation, as the audience
recognized a familiar face under the little red hood worn by the child
who stood receiving a basket from Teacher, who made a nice mother with
her finger up, as if telling the small messenger not to loiter by the
way.

"I know what that is!" cried Sally; "it's 'Mabel on Midsummer Day.' The
piece Miss Celia spoke; don't you know?"

"There isn't any sick baby, and Mabel had a 'kerchief pinned about her
head.' I say it's Red Riding Hood," answered Liddy, who had begun to
learn Mary Howitt's pretty poem for her next piece, and knew all about
it.

The question was settled by the appearance of the wolf in the second
scene, and such a wolf! On few amateur stages do we find so natural an
actor for that part, or so good a costume, for Sanch was