“Well, after the dwarf exhibition, there were refreshments at which the children toasted marshmallows and popped corn.”
“Why, after all, Maud,” said her mother, thawing out suddenly, “I fancy you may like it here. There seem to be things going on.”
“Like it,” quoted the lady. “No one ever wants to go home when she once gets a taste of Adirondack life. It is like the hounds following the deer. People take to the woods.”
Suddenly there sounded through the hall the first measures of an orchestra.
“The music has begun, and I must dress,” said Miss Friend-in-Need, noting the questioning glance between mother and daughter. “That music is a signal to-night. A few of us give a part of the Midsummer Night’s Dream this evening, in the parlor, and we are to costume ourselves as far as possible before supper.
“What fun we’ve had getting the affair up! You may not know that it has simply poured here for days and days, but we’ve laughed until we’ve cried at our rehearsals, and so have scarcely been troubled by rain.
“You’ll surely come to the first and last performance of this wonderful company, will you not?” and walking away, the lady looked over her shoulder for an answer. And having won a reply in the affirmative, the lady rapidly hurried to her room.
After supper, as Maud’s mother took her seat, to which she was shown by a young man acting as usher, she noticed the parlor had been lavishly trimmed with boughs of green. There was also a tiny wood adjoining the stage, made of small balsam trees.
“I suppose,” she remarked to her daughter, “they went out between the drops and gathered them.” And then both ladies interestedly noticed the guests, as one after the other, with an air of expectancy, entered.
Programmes were passed and eagerly scanned.