“I am not going to play—­” repeated Nora; but nobody heard except Daisy.  “I am Esther myself! nobody else has any right to be it.  I have practised it, and I know how to do it; and I am Esther myself.  Nobody else has any right to be Esther!”

Daisy stood by in dismay.  She did not know what comfort to bring to this distress.

“I won’t play at all!” said Nora.  “If I can’t be Esther I won’t be anything.  You have all the good things, Daisy! you have all the prettiest pictures; and I might have had just this one.  Just Esther.  I just wanted to be Esther!  It’s mean.”

“Why you’ve been plenty of things I think,” said Jane Linwood, coming near this corner of gloom.

“I haven’t!  I have been that hateful prince in the tower and Cinderella’s ugly sister—­only hateful things.”

“But you were Little Red Riding-Hood.”

“Red Riding-Hood!” exclaimed Nora in unspeakable disdain.  “Red Riding-Hood was nothing at all but a red cloak! and Daisy wore feathers, and had the dog—­”

And the vision of Queen Esther’s jewels and satin gown and mantle here overcame Nora’s dignity if not her wrath:  she began to cry.

“But won’t you come and be one of the queen’s maids? they will be very nicely dressed too,” Daisy ventured gently.

“No!—­I won’t be anybody’s maid, I tell you,” sobbed the disconsolate child.

“Bring her along, Daisy,” Mrs. Sandford called from the other side of the room.—­“I am almost ready for her.”

Daisy made another vain effort to bring Nora to reason, and then went sorrowfully to Mrs. Sandford.  She thought tableaux were on the whole a somewhat troublesome amusement.

“Will I do, Mrs. Sandford?” she said.  “Nora does not want to play.”

“In dudgeon, hey?” said the lady.  “I expected as much.  Well Daisy—­I will take you.  I might perch you up on a foot-cushion to give you a little more altitude.  However—­I don’t know but it will do.  Theresa will be letting down her own height.”

“I think I am letting myself down altogether, Mrs. Sandford, in allowing Ahasuerus to pick me out in that lordly style.  But never mind—­I shan’t touch his sceptre any way.  Boys, boys!—­are you ready?”

“Splendid, Theresa!” said Preston as he came in.  “Splendid!  You are the very thing.”

“I am diamonds and satin, you mean.  I thank you.  I know that is what I am at present.”

“You look the character,” said Hamilton.

Theresa made him a mock little courtesy.  It was admirably done.  It was the slightest gesture of supercilious disdain—­excellent pantomime.  The boys laughed and shouted, for Theresa’s satin and diamonds gave effect to her acting, and she was a good actor.