“O, these are only pictures, you know; that is all; people dressed up to look like pictures.”

“They don’t look like pictures a bit, I think,” said Nora; “they look just like people.”

Daisy thought so too, but had some faith in Preston’s and Mrs. Sandford’s powers of transforming and mystifying the present very natural appearance of the performers.  However, she was beginning to be of the opinion that it was good fun even now.

“Now, Daisy,—­come, we must practise putting you in position,” said Mrs. Sandford.  “We will take something easy first—­what shall it be?—­Come! we will try Priscilla’s courtship.  Where is your John Alden, Preston?”

Preston quietly moved forward Alexander Fish and seated him.  Daisy began to grow warm with trepidation.

“You must let your hair grow, Sandie—­and comb out your long curls into your neck; so,—­do you see?  And you will have to have a dress as much as Priscilla.  This tableau will be all in the dress, Mrs. Sandford.”

“We will have it.  That is easy.”

“Now, Alexander, look here, at the picture.  Take that attitude as nearly as you can, and I will stroke you into order.—­That is pretty well,—­lean over a little more with that elbow on your knee,—­you must be very much in earnest.”

“What am I doing?” said Alexander, breaking from his prescribed attitude to turn round and face the company.

“You are making love to Priscilla; but the joke is, you have been persuaded to do it for somebody else, when all the time you would like to do it for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be such a gumph as that!” muttered Alexander as he fell back into position.  “Who am I, to begin with?”

“A highly respectable old Puritan.  The lady was surprised at him and he came to his senses, but that is not in the picture.  Now Daisy—­take that chair—­a little nearer;—­you are to have your hand on your spinning wheel, you know; I have got a dear little old spinning wheel at home for you, that was used by my grandmother.  You must look at Alexander a little severely, for he is doing what you did not expect of him, and you think he ought to know better.  That attitude is very good.  But you must look at him, Daisy!  Don’t let your eyes go down.”

There was a decided disposition to laugh among the company looking on, which might have been fatal to the Puritan picture had not Preston and Mrs. Sandford energetically crushed it.  Happily Daisy was too much occupied with the difficulty of her own immediate situation to discover how the bystanders were affected; she did not know what was the effect of her pink little cheeks and very demure down-cast eyes.  In fact Daisy had gone to take her place in the picture with something scarcely less than horror; only induced to do it, by her greater horror of making a fuss and so shewing the feeling which she knew would be laughed at if shewn.  She shewed it now, poor child; how could she help it? she shewed it by her unusually tinged cheeks and by her persistent down-looking eyes.  It was very difficult indeed to help it; for if she ventured to look at Alexander she caught impertinent little winks,—­most unlike John Alden or any Puritan,—­which he could execute with impunity because his face was mostly turned from the audience; but which Daisy took in full.