"Oh, I only mean you are darker than any of the others, except James, and I am sure he never could look sufficiently ferocious," answers Bebe, laughing.
"And you think I can?"
"You will have to. When we have blackened you a little, and bent your eyebrows into a murderous scowl, and made you look thoroughly odious, you will do very well."
"How one does enjoy the prospect of tableaux. I rather think I shall rival Salvini by the time I am out of your hands."
"I hope not. I can't bear Salvini," says Harriet, mildly.
"That is going rather far, Harry. Why don't you say you can't bear his figure? We might believe that."
"But I don't want to be smothered," I protest, nervously.
"Oh, you must submit to that. When people hear of 'a scene from "Othello"' they immediately think of pillows. They would consider they had been done out of something if we gave them a mere court part. We will have you just dying, murmuring your last poor little words, with Sir Mark looking as if he were longing to try the effect of the bolster next, and Miss Vernon, as Emilia, kneeling beside you."
"Now, that is what I call a downright cheerful picture," says Marmaduke.
"I call it high tragedy," replies Miss Beatoun, reprovingly. "Will you be Emilia, Miss Vernon?"