“You won’t be too conspicuous,” said her mother; adding slowly, “you might wear the nun’s veiling well enough as you haven’t any part in the play, Polly,” and she scanned the rosy face keenly.

“I don’t want any part,” cried Polly; “they all play better than I do.  Somebody must see that everything goes off well behind the scenes; that’s my place, Mamsie.  Besides, you forget I am to play my sonata.”

“I don’t forget,” said her mother; “all the more reason you should wear the white gown, then.”

“All right,” cried Polly, merrily dashing across the room to Felicie, “put it over my head, do.  Well, I’m glad you think it is right to wear it, Mamsie,” as the soft folds fell around her.  “I just love this dress.  Oh, Auntie! how perfectly exquisite!”

Mrs. Whitney came in smilingly and put a kiss on the tall girl’s cheek.  “Do I look nicely?” she asked naively, turning around under the chandelier.

“Nicely?” exclaimed Polly, lifting her hands, “why you are fresh from fairyland.  You are so good to put on that lovely blue moire and your diamond cross, just for the boys and girls.”

“I am glad you like it,” said Mrs. Whitney hastily.  “Now, Polly, don’t you worry about anything; I’ll see that the last things are done.”

“Well, I am worrying,” confessed Polly, quite in a tremble; “I must see to one corner of the private box for the boys.  You know the last India shawl you lent me wasn’t pinned up straight and I couldn’t fix it, for Van wanted me just then, and I couldn’t get away without his suspecting something.  Oh, Auntie! if you would see to that.”

“I will,” said Mrs. Whitney, not daring to look at Mrs. Pepper, “and to all the other things; don’t give a thought to them, Polly.”

“How good you are,” cried Polly with a sigh of relief.  “Oh, Auntie! we couldn’t do anything without you.”

“And you don’t need to go into the drawing-room at all,” said Mrs. Whitney, going to the door.  “Just keep behind the scenes, and get your actors and Phronsie ready, and your mother and I will receive your friends.  Come, Mrs. Pepper.”

“That is splendid,” cried Polly, left behind with the maid, “now I can get ready without flying into a flurry, Felicie; and then for Phronsie and the rest!”

“There is a dreadful commotion in there among the audience,” said Jasper, out in the green room; “I imagine every one who had an ‘invite,’ has come.  But I don’t see how they can make such a noise.”

“Oh! a few girls and boys make just about as much confusion as a good many,” observed Polly.  “Jasper, wouldn’t you like to see Joel’s eyes when Aunt Whitney leads him into the private box?” she allowed herself time to exclaim.  “Yes,” laughed Jasper, pulling out his watch from beneath his dragon-skin; “well, we have only five minutes more, Polly.  We must have the curtain up sharp.”

“O dear, dear!” cried Polly, flying here and there to bestow last touches on the different members of her cast.  “Now, Clare, you must remember not to give such a shriek when you go on, mustn’t he, Jappy?  Just a dull, sullen roar, your part is.”