"Yes, go on; you do it beautifully," said Bea; so Ernestine plunged blithely into the play, thoroughly entrancing her three listeners with the ease and grace with which she spoke and acted, and receiving showers of applause as she paused.
"How delightful," cried Kittie, in a longing rapture.
"Nonsense," exclaimed Kat, who had listened intently with her nose steadily on the ascent, "It looks all very pretty and nice here, but I should think anybody would feel like a fool to get out on a stage and go ranting about like that."
"Oh! it's too delightful," cried Ernestine, as Bea passed no comment except a little sigh. "I shall run away some day sure as the world and become a great actress; then I'll be rich and famous and you'll all forgive me."
"I thought you always wanted to sing," said Kittie, chewing grass thoughtfully, as she meditated on this new and startling talent and wondered what would next develop.
"So I do, but I shall sing and act both. Now then pretend that I am Marguerite, in Faust, you know, and see if you don't think I can do both, as well as one." So they all looked and listened, while she sang and sang, 'till the very birds hushed their music in envious listening, and the rustling leaves seemed to grow still in very amaze. The sunshine danced over her bright hair, and the lovely face flashed with a radiant excitement that showed how deep an enjoyment even the pretense was to her.
"O Ernestine, how Lovely!"
Rapturous applause followed, and a new voice cried out, "Oh! Ernestine, how lovely; do it over," and turning, they beheld an additional three to the audience. Jean leaning on her little crutch, wild with delight; Olive, tall and still with a curl on her lip to match the scowl on her forehead; and mother,—but what was the matter with mother, Bea wondered. She was very pale, and though she smiled, it did not hide the tremble that hung to her colorless lips.