"Oh, Mrs. Weld!" Mrs. Goddard exclaimed, in tones of well-assumed eagerness. "I am so glad you are here! I fear I have taken cold and am going to have a chill; will you be so good as to go down and mix me a hot lemonade and send it out behind the stage to me? for I must go back directly, and I will drink it there."
The housekeeper arose at once and went out into the hall, where she saw that madam appeared excited and trembling, while her face was very pale, although her eyes were unusually bright.
Somehow, she did not believe her to be ill; but she cheerfully acceded to her request, and went directly below to attend to her commission.
As she passed down the back stairs, Edith came hurrying up the front way.
"What has happened?" she inquired, as she observed madam's unusual excitement.
"The most unfortunate thing that could occur," she nervously replied. "Miss Kerby and her brother, who had the leading parts in the play, have just been summoned home, by telegraph, on account of sickness in the family, and that leaves us without our hero and heroine."
"That is unfortunate, surely; the play will have to be given up, I suppose?" Edith remarked.
"No, indeed! I should die of mortification!" cried madam, with well-assumed consternation.
"But what can you do?" innocently inquired the young girl.
"The only thing to be done is to supply their places with others," was the ready answer. "I have a gentleman friend who will take Mr. Kerby's place, and I want you, Edith, to assume the part of the bride; you are just about the size of Alice Kerby, and the costume will fit you to perfection."