"Hush, you ridiculous boy! That isn't the quotation at all," admonished Agnes.
"No? Well, Hamlet's father was murdered, wasn't he?"
"I prefer to believe him a mythical character," said Agnes, primly.
"At any rate, something as bad will happen to you, Neale O'Neil, if you revile the girls of Milton High," declared Eva Larry, who was near enough to hear the boy's comment. "Oh, dear me! I believe I could make something of that part of Cheerful Grigg, myself. Rose Carey is a regular stick!"
"Hear! hear!" breathed Neale, soulfully. "I'm sorry for Professor Ware."
"Well! he gave them the parts," snapped Eva. "I'm not sorry for him!"
The musical director was a patient man; but he saw the play threatened with ruin by the stupidity of a few. If his voice grew sharp and his manner impatient before the rehearsal was over, there was little wonder.
The choruses, and even the little folks' parts, went splendidly—with snap and vigor. Some of the bigger girls walked through their rôles as though they were in a trance.
"I declare I should expect more animation and a generally better performance from marionettes," cried the despairing professor.
Mr. Marks came in, saw how things were going, and whispered a few words to Professor Ware. The latter fairly threw up his hands.