Randy thought the evening would never come; so did little Prue, for she, too, was to be one of the “tab things,” as she called them. She could not remember the word “tableaux.”
But the evening did arrive, and with it all the girls whom Helen had drilled for the proper posing, all of the boys who were curious to see the girls “fixed up for pictures,” as Reuben Jenks had expressed it, and all of the farmers and their wives, who were nearly as excited as the young people.
Mrs. Gray and Helen received the friends and neighbors as they arrived, showing them the photographs on the walls and telling them that the girls, correctly dressed, would look very much like pictures when seen in the frame.
The frame was in place with a dark background behind it, and stretching from either side of the frame to the side walls of the room were some old brocatelle curtains which Helen had found in Mrs. Gray’s attic. These curtained spaces served as dressing rooms.
Besides the tableaux Helen had planned quite a little programme, and although much drilling had been necessary, each performer was perfect in her part.
Jotham Potts had, after much urging, agreed to read the programme, and Helen had promised to contribute a song, and a piano solo which should be the opening number.
The hum of conversation rose loud and cheery, and so lively did it become that it was impossible to hear a completed sentence.
“They say your Phœbe’s goin’ to be a dreadful pretty picture to-night.”
“What’s she goin’ to—”
“Wal’, I dunno, seems Miss Dayton thinks our Jotham has a good voice, so she asked him to read the—I forgit what you call it, but anyhow I guess—”