When the college was built Mr Laurie added a charming little theatrewhich not only served for plays, but declamations, lectures, andconcerts. The drop-curtain displayed Apollo with the Muses groupedabout him; and as a compliment to the donor of the hall the artisthad given the god a decided resemblance to our friend, which wasconsidered a superb joke by everyone else. Home talent furnishedstars, stock company, orchestra, and scene painter; and astonishingperformances were given on this pretty little stage.

 

　　Mrs Jo had been trying for some time to produce a play which shouldbe an improvement upon the adaptations from the French then in vogue,curious mixtures of fine toilettes, false sentiment, and feeble wit,with no touch of nature to redeem them. It was easy to plan playsfull of noble speeches and thrilling situations, but very hard towrite them; so she contented herself with a few scenes of humble lifein which the comic and pathetic were mingled; and as she fitted hercharacters to her actors, she hoped the little venture would provethat truth and simplicity had not entirely lost their power to charm.

 

　　Mr Laurie helped her, and they called themselves Beaumont andFletcher, enjoying their joint labour very much; for Beaumont'sknowledge of dramatic art was of great use in curbing Fletcher'stoo-aspiring pen, and they flattered themselves that they hadproduced a neat and effective bit of work as an experiment.

 

　　All was ready now; and Christmas Day was much enlivened by lastrehearsals, the panics of timid actors, the scramble for forgottenproperties, and the decoration of the theatre. Evergreen and hollyfrom the woods, blooming plants from the hothouse on Parnassus, andflags of all nations made it very gay that night in honour of theguests who were coming, chief among them, Miss Cameron, who kept herpromise faithfully. The orchestra tuned their instruments withunusual care, the scene-shifters set their stage with lavishelegance, the prompter heroically took his seat in the stifling nookprovided for him, and the actors dressed with trembling hands thatdropped the pins, and perspiring brows whereon the powder wouldn'tstick. Beaumont and Fletcher were everywhere, feeling that theirliterary reputation was at stake; for sundry friendly critics wereinvited, and reporters, like mosquitoes, cannot be excluded from anyearthly scene, be it a great man's death-bed or a dime museum.

 

　　'Has she come?' was the question asked by every tongue behind thecurtain; and when Tom, who played an old man, endangered hisrespectable legs among the footlights to peep, announced that he sawMiss Cameron's handsome head in the place of honour, a thrillpervaded the entire company, and Josie declared with an excited gaspthat she was going to have stage fright for the first time in herlife.

 

　　'I'll shake you if you do,' said Mrs Jo, who was in such a wild stateof dishevelment with her varied labours that she might have gone onas Madge Wildlife, without an additional rag or crazy elf-lock.

 

　　'You'll have time to get your wits together while we do our piece.

 

　　We are old stagers and calm as clocks,' answered Demi, with a nodtowards Alice, ready in her pretty dress and all her properties athand.

 

　　But both clocks were going rather faster than usual, as heightenedcolour, brilliant eyes, and a certain flutter under the laces andvelvet coat betrayed. They were to open the entertainment with a gaylittle piece which they had played before and did remarkably well.

 

　　Alice was a tall girl, with dark hair and eyes, and a face whichintelligence, health, and a happy heart made beautiful. She waslooking her best now, for the brocades, plumes, and powder of theMarquise became her stately figure; and Demi in his court suit, withsword, three-cornered hat, and white wig, made as gallant a Baron asone would wish to see. Josie was the maid, and looked her part to thelife, being as pretty, pert, and inquisitive as any French soubrette.

 

　　These three were all the characters; and the success of the piecedepended on the spirit and skill with which the quickly changingmoods of the quarrelsome lovers were given, their witty speeches madeto tell, and by-play suited to the courtly period in which the scenewas laid.

 

　　Few would have recognized sober John and studious Alice in thedashing gentleman and coquettish lady, who kept the audience laughingat their caprices; while they enjoyed the brilliant costumes, andadmired the ease and grace of the young actors. Josie was aprominent figure in the plot, as she listened at keyholes, peepedinto notes, and popped in and out at all the most inopportunemoments, with her nose in the air, her hands in her apron-pockets,and curiosity pervading her little figure from the topmost bow of herjaunty cap to the red heels of her slippers. All went smoothly; andthe capricious Marquise, after tormenting the devoted Baron to herheart's content, owned herself conquered in the war of wits, and wasjust offering the hand he had fairly won, when a crash startled them,and a heavily decorated side-scene swayed forward, ready to fall uponAlice. Demi saw it and sprung before her to catch and hold it up,standing like a modern Samson with the wall of a house on his back.

 

　　The danger was over in a moment, and he was about to utter his lastspeech, when the excited young scene-shifter, who had flown up aladder to repair the damage, leaned over to whisper 'All right', andrelease Demi from his spread-eagle attitude: as he did so, a hammerslipped out of his pocket, to fall upon the upturned face below,inflicting a smart blow and literally knocking the Baron's part outof his head.

 

　　'A quick curtain,' robbed the audience of a pretty little scene notdown on the bill; for the Marquise flew to staunch the blood with acry of alarm: 'Oh! John, you are hurt! Lean on me'--which John gladlydid for a moment, being a trifle dazed yet quite able to enjoy thetender touch of the hands busied about him and the anxiety of theface so near his own; for both told him something which he would haveconsidered cheaply won by a rain of hammers and the fall of the wholecollege on his head.

 

　　Nan was on the spot in a moment with the case that never left herpocket; and the wound was neatly plastered up by the time Mrs Joarrived, demanding tragically:

 

　　'Is he too much hurt to go on again? If he is, my play is lost!'

 

　　'I'm all the fitter for it, Aunty; for here's a real instead of apainted wound. I'll be ready; don't worry about me.' And catching uphis wig, Demi was off, with only a very eloquent look of thanks tothe Marquise, who had spoilt her gloves for his sake, but did notseem to mind it at all, though they reached above her elbows, andwere most expensive.

 

　　'How are your nerves, Fletcher?' asked Mr Laurie as they stoodtogether during the breathless minute before the last bell rings.

 

　　'About as calm as yours, Beaumont,' answered Mrs Jo, gesticulatingwildly to Mrs Meg to set her cap straight.

 

　　'Bear up, partner! I'll stand by you whatever comes!'

 

　　'I feel that it ought to go; for, though it's a mere trifle, a gooddeal of honest work and truth have gone into it. Doesn't Meg look thepicture of a dear old country woman?'

 

　　She certainly did, as she sat in the farmhouse kitchen by a cheeryfire, rocking a cradle and darning stockings, as if she had donenothing else all her life. Grey hair, skilfully drawn lines on theforehead, and a plain gown, with cap, little shawl, and check apron,changed her into a comfortable, motherly creature who found favourthe moment the curtain went up and discovered her rocking, darning,and crooning an old song. In a short soliloquy about Sam, her boy,who wanted to enlist; Dolly, her discontented little daughter, wholonged for city ease and pleasures; and poor 'Elizy', who had marriedbadly, and came home to die, bequeathing her baby to her mother, lestits bad father should claim it, the little story was very simplyopened, and made effective by the real boiling of the kettle on thecrane, the ticking of a tall clock, and the appearance of a pair ofblue worsted shoes which waved fitfully in the air to the soft babbleof a baby's voice. Those shapeless little shoes won the firstapplause; and Mr Laurie, forgetting elegance in satisfaction,whispered to his coadjutor:

 

　　'I thought the baby would fetch them!'

 

　　'If the dear thing won't squall in the wrong place, we are saved. Butit is risky. Be ready to catch it if all Meg's cuddlings prove invain,' answered Mrs Jo, adding, with a clutch at Mr Laurie's arm as ahaggard face appeared at the window:

 

　　'Here's Demi! I hope no one will recognize him when he comes on asthe son. I'll never forgive you for not doing the villain yourself.'

 

　　'Can't run the thing and act too. He's capitally made up, and likes abit of melodrama.'

 

　　'This scene ought to have come later; but I wanted to show that themother was the heroine as soon as possible. I'm tired of love-sickgirls and runaway wives. We'll prove that there's romance in oldwomen also. Now he's coming!'

 

　　And in slouched a degraded-looking man, shabby, unshaven, andevil-eyed, trying to assume a masterful air as he dismayed thetranquil old woman by demanding his child. A powerful scene followed;and Mrs Meg surprised even those who knew her best by the homelydignity with which she at first met the man she dreaded; then, as hebrutally pressed his claim, she pleaded with trembling voice andhands to keep the little creature she had promised the dying motherto protect; and when he turned to take it by force, quite a thrillwent through the house as the old woman sprung to snatch it from thecradle, and holding it close, defied him in God's name to tear itfrom that sacred refuge. It was really well done; and the round ofapplause that greeted the fine tableau of the indignant old woman,the rosy, blinking baby clinging to her neck, and the daunted man whodared not execute his evil purpose with such a defender for helplessinnocence, told the excited authors that their first scene was a hit.

 

　　The second was quieter, and introduced Josie as a bonny country lasssetting the supper-table in a bad humour. The pettish way in whichshe slapped down the plates, hustled the cups, and cut the big brownloaf, as she related her girlish trials and ambitions, was capital.

 

　　Mrs Jo kept her eye on Miss Cameron, and saw her nod approval severaltimes at some natural tone or gesture, some good bit of by-play or aquick change of expression in the young face, which was as variableas an April day. Her struggle with the toasting-fork made muchmerriment; so did her contempt for the brown sugar, and the relishwith which she sweetened her irksome duties by eating it; and whenshe sat, like Cinderella, on the hearth, tearfully watching theflames dance on the homely room, a girlish voice was heard to exclaimimpulsively:

 

　　'Poor little thing! she ought to have some fun!'

 

　　The old woman enters; and mother and daughter have a pretty scene, inwhich the latter coaxes and threatens, kisses and cries, till shewins the reluctant consent of the former to visit a rich relation inthe city; and from being a little thunder-cloud Dolly becomesbewitchingly gay and good, as soon as her wilful wish is granted. Thepoor old soul has hardly recovered from this trial when the sonenters, in army blue, tells he has enlisted and must go. That is ahard blow; but the patriotic mother bears it well, and not till thethoughtless young folks have hastened away to tell their good newselsewhere does she break down. Then the country kitchen becomespathetic as the old mother sits alone mourning over her children,till the grey head is hidden in the hands as she kneels down by thecradle to weep and pray, with only Baby to comfort her fond andfaithful heart.

 

　　Sniffs were audible all through the latter part of this scene; andwhen the curtain fell, people were so busy wiping their eyes that fora moment they forgot to applaud. That silent moment was moreflattering than noise; and as Mrs Jo wiped the real tears off hersister's face, she said as solemnly as an unconscious dab of rouge onher nose permitted:

 

　　'Meg, you have saved my play! Oh, why aren't you a real actress, andI a real playwright?'

 

　　'Don't gush now, dear, but help me dress Josie; she's in such aquiver of excitement, I can't manage her, and this is her best scene,you know.'

 

　　So it was; for her aunt had written it especially for her, and littleJo was happy in a gorgeous dress, with a train long enough to satisfyher wildest dreams. The rich relation's parlour was in festivalarray, and the country cousin sails in, looking back at her sweepingflounces with such artless rapture that no one had the heart to laughat the pretty jay in borrowed plumes. She has confidences withherself in the mirror, from which it is made evident that she haddiscovered all is not gold that glitters, and has found greatertemptations than those a girlish love of pleasure, luxury, andflattery bring her. She is sought by a rich lover; but her honestheart resists the allurements he offers, and in its innocentperplexity wishes 'mother' was there to comfort and counsel.

 

　　A gay little dance, in which Dora, Nan, Bess, and several of the boystook part, made a good background for the humble figure of the oldwoman in her widow's bonnet, rusty shawl, big umbrella, and basket.

 

　　Her naive astonishment, as she surveys the spectacle, feels thecurtains, and smooths her old gloves during the moment she remainsunseen, was very good; but Josie's unaffected start when she seesher, and the cry: 'Why, there's mother!' was such a hearty little bitof nature, it hardly needed the impatient tripping over her train a............