athers sat
jauntily on their tow wigs.

The vicar sat in the arm-chair by the fire, Shakespeare in hand, waiting
to fill in the odd parts with his wife's help, and simultaneous cries of
astonishment and admiration greeted the appearance of the two actors at
the beginning of the first scene.

"It's wonderful! Did I ever see such children? What in the world have
they got on their heads? Milly's old leghorn, I declare, and my pink
feathers. My old pink feathers! Deary me! I'd forgotten all about
them. I've never worn them since the year that--"

"`In sooth, I know not why I am so sad,'" quoth the wearer of the
feathers, scowling darkly at the frivolous prattler, who straightway hid
her head behind her book, and read Salanio's first speech in a tone of
meek apology.

There was a great deal of confusion about the first scene, for four
people had to read the parts of six, and one of the number was so much
occupied with gazing at the costumes of the actors that she invariably
lost her place, and had to be called to order by significant coughs and
glances. By this time it generally happened that the vicar had made up
his mind to come to the rescue, and both husband and wife would begin to
read at the same moment, to their own amusement, and to the disgust of
the two lads, who felt uncomfortable in their borrowed plumes, and
keenly sensitive about their precious dignity. Antonio mumbled his last
speech in undignified haste, and followed Bassanio out of the room,
prepared to echo his statement that this sort of thing was "tomfoolery,"
and that he wasn't going to make an idiot of himself any longer to
please Peggy Saville, or any other girl in the world. But the words
died on his lips, for outside, in the hall, stood Peggy herself, or
rather Portia, and such a Portia as made him fairly blink with
amazement! Amidst the bustle of the last few days Portia's own costume
had been kept a secret, so that the details came as a surprise to the
other members of the party. Nerissa stood by her side, clad in a
flowing costume, the component parts of which included a dressing-gown,
an antimacassar, and a flowered chintz curtain; but, despite the nature
of the materials, the colouring was charming, and frizzled hair, flushed
cheeks, and sparkling eyes, transformed the sober Esther into a very
personable attendant on the lady of Belmont. There was nothing of the
dressing-gown character about Portia's own attire, however. Its
m