“If that looks easy to you just try it,” said Mrs. Hamilton during the pause in the program.  “I made an attempt at it the other day when Ruth was practicing at home, and I found it the hardest thing I’ve undertaken for some time.  It’s wonderful training for the eye and muscles.”

As she finished speaking, slow, dreamy music began on the piano and the curtains were pulled apart, disclosing a pedestal on which stood Dorothy in a flowing Greek robe and with her golden hair dressed in classic fashion.  At first she was like a beautiful statue, then, as the music proceeded, she went through a series of poses, each one so vivid and graceful that when she became a statue once more and the curtain hid her from sight the hall rang with applause.

The program was already so long that Dorothy refused to repeat her number, and when the curtain was drawn again four fine lads stepped out to swing Indian clubs.  The boys did it well and the fathers and mothers glowed with pride over the straight young figures and the easy grace which made the clubs seem like mere toys.

The last number was announced as a march by the Glenloch Academy children, and the boy who made the announcement couldn’t keep from laughing as he hurriedly got out of sight.

“Rather unusual, isn’t it, for boys and girls of that age to allow themselves to be called ’children’?” asked Mr. Hamilton, but even as he spoke his question was answered, for as the piano began a simple melody in rushed twelve children, blowing horns, jumping ropes, and pinching and pulling each other in very real fashion.  There was a roar of laughter from the audience, for the boys were all figures of fun in their checked aprons and tassel caps.  Tall Phil was a sight never to be forgotten as he smiled amiably on the world at large, but Joe had the best of it, for he was so plump and rosy that he looked fairly like the child he was trying to represent.  The girls wore skirts which stuck out stiffly all around, and had their hair braided in pigtails and tied with ribbons to match their sashes.  Betty looked the very picture of innocent, chubby childhood, and couldn’t forbear making eyes at her adoring father, who sat near the stage, and seemed to find it difficult to look at any one but his engaging little daughter.

The piano struck up a stirring march, and the merry children dropped their toys and formed in line with Jack and Ruth as leaders.  The performers did their best to make it as childlike as possible, and it was an amusing procession that the two captains led through intricate ways.  It had an ending alike unexpected by performers and audience, for as they were going through one of the last figures, Joe slipped, made a heroic effort to recover his balance, and then sat flat on the floor facing the audience.  He had such a funny, surprised look on his face that every one in the hall roared with laughter, much to his discomfiture.  Then an idea seized him, and