She was a little afraid of questions at the dinner-table; but it happened that the older people were interested about some matter of their own and she was not noticed at all. Except in a quiet way by Mr. Randolph, who picked out nuts for her; and Daisy took them and thought joyfully of carrying a testament to Molly\'s cottage and teaching her to read it. If she could do but that—Daisy thought she would be happy.

The evening was spent by her and Preston over engravings again. Some new ones were added to the stock already chosen for tableaux; and Preston debated with her very eagerly the various questions of characters and dresses. Daisy did not care how he arranged them, provided she only was not called upon to be Priscilla to Alexander Fish, or Esther to Hamilton Rush. "I will not, Preston—" she insisted quietly; and Preston was in difficulty; for as he truly said, it would not do to give himself all the best pieces.

The next day, after luncheon, a general conclave assembled, of all the young people, to determine the respective parts and hold a little rehearsal by way of beginning. Mrs. Sandford was there too, but no other grown person was admitted. Preston had certainly a troublesome and delicate office in his capacity of manager.

"What are you going to give me, Preston?" said Mrs. Stanfield\'s lively daughter, Theresa.

"You must be Portia."

"Portia? let me see—O that\'s lovely! How will you dress me, Mrs. Sandford? I must be very splendid—I have just been married, and I am worth any amount of splendour. Who\'s to be Bassanio?—"

"George Linwood, I think. He must have dark hair, you know."

"What are wigs good for?" said Theresa. "But he has nothing to do but to hold the letter and throw himself backward—he\'s surprised, you know, and people don\'t stand straight when they are surprised. Only that, and to look at Portia. I guess he can do it. Once fix him and he\'ll stay—that\'s one thing. How will you dress Portia, Mrs. Sandford? Ah, let me dress her!"

"Not at all; you must be amenable to authority. Miss Stanfield, like everybody else."

"But what will you put on her, Mrs. Sandford? The dress is Portia."

"No, by no means; you must look with a very delicate expression, Miss
Theresa. Your face will be the picture."

"My face will depend on my dress, I know. What will it be, Mrs.
Sandford?"

"I will give you a very heavy and rich purple brocade."

"Jewels?"

"Of course. Mrs. Randolph lets us have whatever we want."

"That will do!" said Theresa, clapping her hands softly. "I am made up.
What are you going to do with Frederica?"

"She has a great part. She must be Marie Antoinette going from the revolutionary tribunal."

"De la Roche\'s picture!" said Theresa.

"She\'s not dressed at all"—remarked Frederica coldly looking at the engraving.

"Marie Antoinette needed no dress, you know," Theresa answered.

"But she isn\'t handsome there."

"You will be standing for her," said Mrs. Sandford. "The attitude is very striking, in its proud, indignant impassiveness. You will do that well. I must dress your hair carefully, but you have just the right hair and plenty of it."

"Don\'t she flatter her!" whispered Theresa to Preston;—then aloud,
"How will you make up the rest of the tableau, Preston?"

"I am going to be that old cross-eyed woman—Alexander will be one of the guards—George Linwood another, I think. Hamilton Rush must shake his fist at the queen over my head; and Theresa, you must be this nice little French girl, looking at her unfortunate sovereign with weeping eyes. Can you get a tear on your cheek?"

"Might take an uncommon strong spoonful of mustard—" said Theresa—"I suppose that would do it. But you are not going to let the spectators come so near as to see drops of tears, I hope?"

"No matter—your eyes and whole expression would be affected by the mustard; it would tell, even at a distance."

When they got through laughing, some one asked, "What is Daisy to be?"

"O, she is to be Priscilla here—I thought nobody but Daisy would care about being a Puritan; but it is her chosen character."

"It\'ll be a pretty tableau," said Theresa.

"And what am I to be, Preston?" said Nora.

"You are to be several things. You and Ella must be the two young princes in the tower."

"What tower?" said Nora.

There was another general laugh, and then Daisy, who was well at home in English history, pulled her little friend aside to whisper to her the story and shew her the picture.

"What are those men going to do?" said Nora.

"They are going to kill the little princes. They have got a featherbed or something there, and they are going to smother them while they are asleep."

"But I don\'t want the featherbed on top of me!" said Nora.

"No, no,—it is not to come down on you; but that is the picture; they will hold it just so; it will not come down."

"But suppose they should let it fall?"

"They will not let it fall. The picture is to have it held just so, as if they were going to smother the poor little princes the next minute."

"I think it is a horrid picture!" said Nora.

"But it will only last a little while. All you will have to do will be to make believe you are asleep."

"I don\'t want to make believe I am asleep. I would rather have my eyes open. What else am I going to be, Daisy?"

"Preston will tell. I believe—you are to be one of Queen Esther\'s women, to hold her up when she fainted, you know."

"Let me see. Where is it?"

Daisy obtained the picture. Nora examined it critically.

"I would like to be the king, he is so handsome. Who will be the queen?"

"I don\'t know yet," said Daisy.

"Are you going to have any part where you will be dressed up?"

"We shall have to be dressed for them all. We cannot wear our own dresses, you know; it would not be a picture."

"But, I mean, are you going to be dressed up with nice things?—not like this."

"This will be dressed up," said Daisy; "she will be very nicely dressed—to be one of the queen\'s ladies, you know."

"Daisy! Daisy!—" was now called from the larger group of counsel-takers, Daisy and Nora having separated themselves for their private discourse. "Daisy! look here—come here! see what you are to be. You are to be an angel."

"You are to be an angel, Daisy," Theresa repeated,—"with wonderful wings made of gauze on a light frame of whalebone."

Daisy came near, looking very attentive; if she felt any more she did not shew it in her face.

"Daisy, you will do it delightfully," said Mrs. Sandford. "Come and look. It is this beautiful picture of the Game of Life."

"What is it, ma\'am?" said Daisy.

"These two figures, you see, are playing a game of chess. The stake they are playing for, is this young man\'s soul; he is one of the players, and this other player is the evil one. The arch-fiend thinks he has got a good move; the young man is very serious but perplexed; and there stands his guardian angel watching how the game will go."

Daisy looked at the picture in silence of astonishment. It seemed to her impossible that anybody could play at such a subject as that.

"Whom will you have for the fiend, Preston?" the lady went on.

"I will do it myself, ma\'am, I think."

Daisy\'s "Oh no, Preston!"—brought down such a shower of laughter on all sides, that she retreated into herself a little further than ever. They pursued the subject for a while, discussing the parts and the making of the angel\'s wings; deciding that Daisy would do excellently well for the angel and would look the part remarkably.

"She has a good deal that sort of expression in ordinary times," said Mrs. Sandford—"without the sadness; and that she can assume, I day say."

"I would rather not do it—" Daisy was heard to say very gently but very soberly. There was another laugh.

"Do what, Daisy? assume a look of sadness?" said Preston.

"I would rather not be the angel."

"Nobody else could do it so well," said Mrs. Sandford. "You are the very one to do it. It will be admirable."

"I should like to be the angel—" murmured Nora, low enough to have no one\'s attention but Daisy\'s. The rest were agreeing that the picture would be excellent and had just the right performers assigned to it. Daisy was puzzled. It seemed to her that Nora had a general desire for everything.

"Ella will be one of the princes in the tower," Preston went on. "Nora will be Red Riding-Hood."

"I won\'t be Red Riding Hood—" said Nora.

"Why not? Hoity, toity!"

"It isn\'t pretty. And it has no pretty dress."

"Why, it is beautiful," said Mrs. Sandford; "and the dress is to be made with an exquisite red cashmere cardinal of Mrs. Randolph\'s. You will make the best Red Riding-Hood here. Though Daisy would be more like the lamb the wolf was after,"—continued the lady appealing to the manager; "and you might change. Who is to be queen Esther? Nora would do that well—with her black eyes and hair—she is more of a Jewess than any other of them."

"Esther is fainting," said Preston. "Daisy\'s paleness will suit that best. Nora could not look faint."

"Yes, I could," said that damsel promptly.

"You shall blow the cakes that Alfred has let burn," said Preston. "Capital! Look here, Nora. You shall be that girl taking up the burnt cakes and blowing to cool them; and you may look as fierce as you like. You will get great applause if you do that part well. Elo?se is going to be the scolding old woman. She and I divide the old women between us."

"Too bad, Preston!" said Mrs. Sandford laughing. "What else are you going to be?"

"I am going to be one of those fellows coming to murder the little princes."

"Who is Bassanio?"

"Hamilton says he will undertake that. George declines."

"Suppose we do some work, instead of so much talking," said the former person; who had hitherto been a very quiet spectator and listener. "Let us have a little practice............