Finally both lay hold of the old chest, the rusted lock broke and the lid flew open.  After one look both servants ran away in terror, and beckoned to the forsaken husband who had appeared in the meantime, seating himself on the oak settee in the lower hall.  With eager gestures they motioned him to the landing where the old chest stood.  The final tableau, depicted the stricken husband on his knees beside the chest with a portion of the wedding veil in his shaking hands, while the servants, ignorant of the story of the lost bride, looked on in wonder.

During the last tableau Nora softly sang the closing verse and the refrain.  Even after the last note had died away the spectators sat perfectly still for a moment.  Then the applause burst forth and David bowing in acknowledgment, turned and helped Anne out of the chest, where she had lain quietly after hiding.

The chest had been set with the side that opened toward the wall.  While planning for the pantomime the boys had arranged the lid so that it did not close, yet the opening was not perceptible to those seated below.  Thus there had been no danger of Anne meeting the fate of the ill-starred Ginevra, the heroine of the ballad.

“You clever children,” cried the old judge.  “How did you ever get up anything like that on such short notice?  It was beautifully done.  I have always been very fond of ‘The Mistletoe Bough.’  My sister used to sing it for me.”

“Grace thought of it,” said Anne.  “We found all those costumes up in the garret in the old cedar chest.  We knew the story by heart, and we knew the minuet.  We danced it at an entertainment in Oakdale last winter.  We had a very short rehearsal this afternoon in the garret and that’s all.”

“Anne arranged the scenes and coached David in his part of the pantomime,” said Grace.  “She did more than I.”

The judge’s guests, also, added their tribute of admiration to that of the judge.

“It was all so real.  I could scarcely refrain from telling that poor young husband where his bride had hidden herself,” laughed one old gentleman.

“Why don’t you children have a little dance?” asked the judge.  “This hall ought to make a good ball room, and you can take turns at the piano.”

“Oh, may we, Judge?” cried Grace in delight.  “I am simply dying to have a good waltz on this floor.”

“I’ll play for you for a while,” volunteered Miriam, “then Eva and Jessica can take my place.”

Five minutes later the young folks were gliding about the big hall to the strains of a Strauss’ waltz, while the judge and his friends looked on, taking an almost melancholy pleasure in the gay scene of youthful enjoyment.

“Will you dance the next waltz with me, Miss Harlowe!” said Henry Hammond to Grace, as she sat resting after a two-step.

After a second’s hesitation Grace replied in the affirmative.  Despite her resolve to make peace with him, up to that moment Grace had been unable to bring herself to the point of speaking pleasantly to him.