“Why can't we do that again, changing and improving it, of course? The boys are so clever and bright about anything of the kind that they would be irresistibly funny. What do you think?”
“I like the idea,” exclaimed Patty Weld. “Uncle Harry's large hall would be just the place for it, and the stage is already there.”
“So it is; how fortunate,” agreed Alice; “we couldn't think of anything that would be greater fun. How shall we cast the characters! You must be the bride, Bell, the 'fair Ellen!' you will do it better than anybody. Jo will make up into the funniest old lady for a mother, and the rest of us can be the bride-maidens. Hugh Pennell will be a glorious Young Lochinvar, if he can be persuaded to run away with Bell—” this with a sly glance at her hostess.
“Yes,” said Edith, “and poor Jack will have to be the 'craven bridegroom,' who loses his bride, and Geoff, the stern parent.”
“Uncle Harry will read the poem for us, I know,” continued Bell; “he does that sort of thing often at the church, and does it beautifully. Phil Howard, Royal Lawrence, and Harry will be bridemen. We'll perform the piece in such a tragic way that each separate hair in the audience will stand erect.”
“But, oh, the labor of it, girls!” sighed Patty—“wooden horses to be made for the elopement scene, Scottish dresses, and all sorts of toggery to be hunted up; can we ever do it in time, with our house-cleaning before us?”
“Nonsense, of course we can,” rejoined Bell, energetically. “We will consult every book on private theatricals, Scottish history, manners, and costumes in this house, and Uncle Harry's, too. Let us get up at five to-morrow morning, have a simple breakfast of—”
“Cornmeal mush or dry bread and milk,” finished Lilia, with grim sarcasm. “If time must be saved, of course, it must come out of the cooking! How are we to do this amount of work on a low diet, I should like to know?”
“How are the cooks to get time for anything outside the kitchen if they humor your unnatural appetites! Out of kindness, we propose to lower you gradually, meal by meal, into the pit of boarding-school fare.”
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I don't care to be starved beforehand by way of getting used to it,” retorted Lilia, as she lighted the bedroom candles. “Come, dears, do cover the fire; it was sleepy-time an hour ago, and if you want to see something beautiful, look through the piazza window.”