“Not that, Theresa, not that; you have got the wrong picture.  You are going with the Prince of Arragon now, to the caskets; and you ought to be anxiously asking Bassanio about his letter.”

Theresa changed attitude and expression on the instant; bent slightly forward, lost her sauciness, and laid her hand upon Bassanio’s arm with a grave, tender look of inquiry.  They all shouted again.

“Bravo, Theresa! capital!” said Preston.

“Hamilton, can you act up to that?” said Mrs. Sandford.

“Wait till I get my robes on, ma’am.  I can make believe a great deal easier when I am under the persuasion that it is not me—­Hamilton Rush.”

“I’d like to see Frederica do as well as that,” said Alexander Fish, in a fit of brotherly concern.

“Let us try her—­” said good-natured Mrs. Sandford.  Mrs. Sandford certainly was good-natured, for she had all the dressing to do.  She did it well, and very patiently.

“There,” said Nora, when Ella had left the couch to go to her sister,—­“that is what I like.  Didn’t she look beautiful, Daisy?”

“Her dress looked beautiful—­” said Daisy.

“Well, of course; and that made her look beautiful.  Daisy, I wish I could have a nice part.  I would like to be the queen in that fainting picture.”

“You are going to be in that picture.”

“But, I mean, I would like to be the queen.  She will have the best dress, won’t she?”

“I suppose she will be the most dressed,” said Daisy.

“I don’t want to be one of the women—­I want to be the queen.  Hamilton Rush said I would be the best one for it, because she was a Jewess; and I am the only one that has got black eyes and hair.”

“But her eyes will not be seen,” said Daisy.  “She is fainting.  When people faint, they keep their eyes shut.”

“Yes, but I am the only one that has got black hair.  That will shew.  Her hair ought to be black.”

“Why will not other hair do just as well?” said Daisy.

“Why, because she was a Jewess.”

“Do Jewesses always have black hair?”

“Of course they ought to have black hair,” said Nora; “or Hamilton Rush would not have said that.  And my hair is black.”

Daisy was silent.  She said nothing to this proposition.  The children were both silenced for a little while the practising for “Marie Antoinette” was going on.  The principal part in this was taken by Frederica, who was the beauty of the company.  A few touches of Mrs. Sandford’s skilful hands transformed her appearance wonderfully.  She put on an old-fashioned straight gown, which hung in limp folds around her; and Mrs. Sandford arranged a white handkerchief over her breast, tying it in the very same careless loose knot represented in the picture; but her management of Frederica’s hair was the best thing.  Its soft fair luxuriance was, no one could tell how, made to assume the half dressed, half undressed air of the head in Delaroche’s picture; and Frederica looked the part well.