"Bravo, Tom! you've made out a strong case!" said Hugh, laughing,
"Aunt Faith cannot resist such a mountain of arguments!"
"I do not intend to resist anything reasonable," said Aunt Faith, smiling; "what do you wish to do, Tom?"
"Tableaux!" said Gem, excitedly.
"No; I veto that instanter," said Tom, decidedly. "Girls always want to dress up in old feathers and things, and call themselves kings and queens! For my part, I'm tired of being 'Captain John Smith,' and the 'Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.'"
"May I ask when you took the last-named character?" said Hugh.
"He never took it at all," said Gem, indignantly; "Annie Chase was the Princess, and she looked perfectly beautiful with her sister's satin dress, and pearls, and—"
"There you go!" interrupted Tom; "fuss and feathers, silks and satins!
I was the 'Prince,' wasn't I? and that's the very same thing! Besides,
I've been 'Cupid' over and over again, because I'm the only one who
can hang head downward from the clothes-line as though I was flying.
You can't deny that, Gem Morris!"
"You got up one tableau which was really astonishing," said Hugh; "I remember it very well; an inundation, where all the company in clothes-baskets, were paddling with rulers for their very lives. The effect was thrilling!"
"I remember a charade, too, which was really unique," said Sibyl. "The first part was simply little Carrie Fish standing in the middle of the room; the second and last was audible, but not visible, consisting merely of a volley of sneezes behind the scenes. The whole was supposed to be 'Carry-ca-choo,'—or 'Caricature.'"
"It may all be very funny for you people who only have to look on," said Tom; "but I am tired of the whole thing, and I vote for a picnic."