"Of course," replied Dorothy, smiling. "He's getting better. But it was hard to leave him alone with his hurt—and Norah. Not that Norah is to be classed with the injuries," she hurried to add, laughing merrily.
"They are waiting for the orchestra," Tom reminded her, taking her music and escorting her to the piano.
The girls, with their violins, were already in place. Dorothy felt some embarrassment in facing a room filled with those she considered critical spectators, for the best society of all the Birchlands, as well as cultured persons from Ferndale near by, had come to the entertainment.
The Brownlie girls played the violins. Dorothy gave them the "A" note, and they put their instruments in tune, with that weird, fascinating combination of chords which prelude the opening strains of enthralling music. Then they began.
The first number received a generous encore, and the girls played again. Then there was a suppressed murmur of expectancy—a picture was about to be presented.
Slowly the curtains were drawn aside. The lights had been "doused" as Nat, the acting stage manager, expressed it, and only a dim glow illuminated the tableau.
An immense gilt frame, containing a landscape as a background. In front of that the living pictures were posed. It was Jack Spratt and his Wife—presented by Tavia and Roland.
The audience instantly recognized the illustration, and vigorous applause greeted the tableau. Tavia was surely funny—so fat, and so comical, while Roland looked like a human toothpick. The clean platter was cleaner than even Mother Goose could have wished it, and, altogether, the first picture was an unqualified success.
Tavia was shaking with nervousness when the curtain was pulled together, and when, in response to an imperative demand from the audience, it was parted again, Tavia could scarcely keep from laughing outright. It was one of the difficult pictures, but the girl's talent for theatricals stood her in good stead, while, as for Roland, he seemed too lazy to make any blunders.
Tom, as "Jack Horner," came next. Fat! Numbers in the audience insisted that he was the original "Roly-poly," but the big paper-covered pie precluded all further argument. Tom held his thumb in that pie as faithfully as ever a real, picture Jack Horner did. He had to pose for a second view, and at that the throng was not satisfied, but Nat declared that one encore was enough.