“I’ve found the very thing for the gold casket,” announced Lois, who was standing in front of the bookcase: “A complete set of Shakespeare in one volume.”
“The very thing,” they agreed.
The stage setting was arranged and the play continued. Betty constituted herself the musician and sang: “Tell me where is fancy bred, etc.,” to a tune all her own.
An hour passed and they started the fourth act.
“I don’t feel a bit like a judge,” announced Lois, “and, Miss Porter, you ought to have a beard, but never mind. Let’s see; this is the court room and—”
“The judge ought to sit in a prominent place,”
interrupted Betty. “I know—a chair up there.” And she swung a light cane visitor’s chair on the English room’s dignified and highly polished oak desk.
The stage ready, the scene began. Bassanio pleaded with Shylock for Antonio’s life, but Shylock gloatingly demanded his pound of flesh. Portia, as the learned judge, made answer.
“A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine: The Court awards it, and the law doth give it.”
Shylock rubbed his hands together joyously and gurgled: “Most rightful judge!”