“But what is the picture about?”

“This.  Bassanio has just this minute been married to Portia,—­the loveliest lady in all the world; that he knew of; and now comes a letter, just that minute, telling him that his dear friend Antonio is in great danger of being cut to pieces through the wickedness of a fellow that he had borrowed money from.  And the money had been borrowed for Bassanio, to set him up for his courtship—­so no wonder he feels rather bad.”

“Does she know?”

“No; she is just asking what is the matter.  That will be a capital picture.”

“But you couldn’t stand and look like that,” said Daisy.

“I shall not,” said Preston, “but Hamilton Rush will.  I shall give it to him.  And—­let me see—­for Portia—­that Fish girl cannot do it, she is not clever enough.  It will have to be Theresa Stanfield.”

“I should like to see anybody look like that,” said Daisy.

“Well, you will.  We shall have to go to another book of engravings.—­Hollo! here you are again, Daisy.  This will do for you exactly.  Exactly!”

“What is it?”

“Why Daisy, these are two old Puritans; young ones, I mean, of course; and they are very fond of each other, you know, but somehow they don’t know it.  Or one of them don’t, and he has been goose enough to come to ask Priscilla if she will be his friend’s wife.  Of course she is astonished at him.”

“She does not look astonished.”

“No, that is because she is a Puritan.  She takes it all quietly, only she says she has an objection to be this other man’s wife.  And then John finds what a fool he is.  That’s capital.  You shall be Priscilla; you will do it and look it beautifully.”

“I do not think I want to be Priscilla,”—­said Daisy slowly.

“Yes, you do.  You will.  It will make such a beautiful picture.  I reckon Alexander Fish will make a good John Alden—­he has nice curly hair.”

“So have you,” said Daisy; “and longer than Alexander’s, and more like the picture.”

“I am manager, Daisy.  That wouldn’t do.”

“I shall not be in that picture if Alexander is the other one,” said Daisy.

“Well—­we will see.  But Daisy, it is only playing pictures, you know.  It will not be Daisy and Alexander Fish—­not at all—­it will be Priscilla and John Alden.”

“I should think it was Alexander Fish,” said Daisy.

Preston laughed.

“But Preston, what is that word you said just now?—­what is a Puritan?”

“I don’t know.  I think you are one.  I do not know another.”

“You said these were Puritans?”

“Yes, so they were.  They were very good people, Daisy, that liked wearing plain dresses.  We shall have to have a stuff dress made for you—­I reckon you have not one of anything like a Puritan cut.”

“Then how am I a Puritan, Preston?”

“Sure enough.  I mean that you would be one, if you got a chance.  How many pictures have we chosen out?—­Six?  That is not half enough.”