The first number received a generous encore, and the girls played again.  Then there was a suppressed murmur of expectancy—­a picture was about to be presented.

Slowly the curtains were drawn aside.  The lights had been “doused” as Nat, the acting stage manager, expressed it, and only a dim glow illuminated the tableau.

An immense gilt frame, containing a landscape as a background.  In front of that the living pictures were posed.  It was Jack Spratt and his Wife—­presented by Tavia and Roland.

The audience instantly recognized the illustration, and vigorous applause greeted the tableau.  Tavia was surely funny—­so fat, and so comical, while Roland looked like a human toothpick.  The clean platter was cleaner than even Mother Goose could have wished it, and, altogether, the first picture was an unqualified success.

Tavia was shaking with nervousness when the curtain was pulled together, and when, in response to an imperative demand from the audience, it was parted again, Tavia could scarcely keep from laughing outright.  It was one of the difficult pictures, but the girl’s talent for theatricals stood her in good stead, while, as for Roland, he seemed too lazy to make any blunders.

Tom, as “Jack Horner,” came next.  Fat!  Numbers in the audience insisted that he was the original “Roly-poly,” but the big paper-covered pie precluded all further argument.  Tom held his thumb in that pie as faithfully as ever a real, picture Jack Horner did.  He had to pose for a second view, and at that the throng was not satisfied, but Nat declared that one encore was enough.

Then Little Bo-Peep appeared—­fast asleep, lying on some fresh hay from the Brownlie barn.  And what a charming picture Dorothy did make!

She wore a light-blue skirt, with a dark bodice, and a big, soft straw hat, tossed back on her head, did not hide the beauty of her abundant locks.  Her crook had fallen from her hand, and rested at the bottom of the little mound of hay.  It was a delightful representation, and Dorothy seemed actually painted upon the canvas, so naturally did she sleep.  Mrs. Brownlie nodded approvingly to Mrs. White.  Dorothy’s picture was not only pretty, but it artistically perfect.

The audience seemed loath to disturb the little scene by applause, and instead of answering to an encore Dorothy was obliged to keep her Bo-Peep attitude for the length of time that it would have required to present her tableau a second time.

Tom grasped Dorothy’s hand as she left the frame.

“Great!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.  “I wish Ned could have seen you!”

Dorothy was glad—­pardonably glad.  She had thought a “solo” difficult, and had doubted her ability to make it attractive, but now she was quite satisfied.

There was some delay in presenting the next number, but the wait was forgotten when the curtains were pulled apart.

It was a depiction of “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater,” with Eva’s fair head sticking out of an immense paper pumpkin shell.  Nat’s face, in the character of Peter, was in a most satisfactory smile, consequent, probably, upon his ability to “keep her very well,” and it was surely a very funny picture.  Eva assumed a distressed look, and was thankful that only her face had to act, for the quarters of the pumpkin shell were rather limited.