"I'll tell you," said George; "we can have this little low haymow for the stage, it's first-rate; almost all the hay is gone, and we can pitch the rest of it back into one corner."
This was speedily done, though not without some delay, caused by Tom and Fred, who, younger than their brothers, had not their business turn, and persisted in turning somersaults on the fragrant hay.
"What shall we do for a curtain?" said George. "We never can get along without one."
"I know," said his sister Alice; "there's that red patch bed quilt: I guess mother will let us have that."
So the bed quilt was procured, and put up in a very satisfactory manner, though, as a true story-teller, I am bound to relate that to its latest days it bore the marks of some small nails which were driven through it with the utmost care by George, who thought it as well to do it first, and confer with his mother about it afterwards.
"But now," said he, in some perplexity, as he surveyed his completed work, "how are we going to work to make it stay up while we speak our pieces?"
"That's no matter," said Sue; "we only want a curtain while we are getting ready. We can come in front of it when we get ready to speak."
"I did when I speaked my piece at the exsmishun," squeaked little Ben in a small voice.
But little Ben was immediately hissed down, for Charley and George felt that they never could endure the humiliation of coming before the curtain, instead of having the curtain rise before them.
"I'll tell you," said Charley, "let some of the little ones stand and hold the curtain back while we are speaking."