CHAPTER XI

ROBBIN’ A BANKI am a burglar bold,Fearless and frank;From Fate’s insistent holdFortunes I yank.When honest people sleep,When cats their vigils keep,Forth on my raids I creep,Robbin’ a bank.What’s petty larceny toRobbin’ a bank?What is sneak-thievery toRobbin’ a bank?How else is burglaryWhat it’s cracked up to be?Herein is joy for me—Robbin’ a bank.Here meet, on boodle bent,Men of each rank;Burglar and president,Cashier and crank.Then, when the deed is done,Canada-ward we run.Oh, but it’s lots of fun,Robbin’ a bank!

ROBBIN’ A BANK

I am a burglar bold,Fearless and frank;From Fate’s insistent holdFortunes I yank.When honest people sleep,When cats their vigils keep,Forth on my raids I creep,Robbin’ a bank.

I am a burglar bold,

Fearless and frank;

From Fate’s insistent hold

Fortunes I yank.

When honest people sleep,

When cats their vigils keep,

Forth on my raids I creep,

Robbin’ a bank.

What’s petty larceny toRobbin’ a bank?What is sneak-thievery toRobbin’ a bank?How else is burglaryWhat it’s cracked up to be?Herein is joy for me—Robbin’ a bank.

What’s petty larceny to

Robbin’ a bank?

What is sneak-thievery to

Robbin’ a bank?

How else is burglary

What it’s cracked up to be?

Herein is joy for me—

Robbin’ a bank.

Here meet, on boodle bent,Men of each rank;Burglar and president,Cashier and crank.Then, when the deed is done,Canada-ward we run.Oh, but it’s lots of fun,Robbin’ a bank!

Here meet, on boodle bent,

Men of each rank;

Burglar and president,

Cashier and crank.

Then, when the deed is done,

Canada-ward we run.

Oh, but it’s lots of fun,

Robbin’ a bank!

On finding himself fairly in the dining-room of Hilarity Hall, he is seized with compunction at being obliged to rob such a charming and dainty home, which causes him again to break forth into song:

BURGLAR’S SONGI’m a tender-hearted chap,And I do not care a rapFor my dangerous profession,Taking underhand possessionOf the plate—silver plate.And I do not think it funTo burglarize the timid one,But I think it is my dutyTo obtain the costly bootyOf the great—rich and great.So I will fulfil my missionSoftly, yet with expedition;I my hobnailed boots have takenOff—for fear the girls will waken,For ’tis late—very late.

BURGLAR’S SONG

I’m a tender-hearted chap,And I do not care a rapFor my dangerous profession,Taking underhand possessionOf the plate—silver plate.

I’m a tender-hearted chap,

And I do not care a rap

For my dangerous profession,

Taking underhand possession

Of the plate—silver plate.

And I do not think it funTo burglarize the timid one,But I think it is my dutyTo obtain the costly bootyOf the great—rich and great.

And I do not think it fun

To burglarize the timid one,

But I think it is my duty

To obtain the costly booty

Of the great—rich and great.

So I will fulfil my missionSoftly, yet with expedition;I my hobnailed boots have takenOff—for fear the girls will waken,For ’tis late—very late.

So I will fulfil my mission

Softly, yet with expedition;

I my hobnailed boots have taken

Off—for fear the girls will waken,

For ’tis late—very late.

“Those are beautiful verses,” said Aunt Molly, who knew as much about poetry as a hoptoad, “and Uncle Ned will be perfectly delighted to sing them. When do your rehearsals begin?”

“To-night,” said Marjorie, growing presidential of aspect. “Look here, girls, if this thing is going to be at all, it’s going to be a success with a big S. You hear me?”

“We do!” shouted the other seven.

“Then listen further. There’s no use of our all fussing with these verses, for Hester and Nan are quite capable of making them up alone. So let them finish the libretto of the play, as they call it.Icall it an operetta. Now for stage-manager I appoint Betty, and she can get any one to help her who will, but they must attend entirely to staging the whole thing—look out for scenery, lights, and all that. The costumes I put in the capable hands of Marguerite and Jessie, who know more about clothes in a minute than the rest of us in a thousand years. Helen, of course, is the orchestra; if she can get any one to help her, so much the better. Millicent and I will look after the supper; for I’m sure you’ll need one after this wonderful performance, to say nothing of the audience, who, I feel sure, will be utterly exhausted.”

“Bravo, Marjorie!” cried Aunt Molly. “You’re a manager, and no mistake. Now I’ll help any one or all of these committees. Call on me for anything, and you’ll find me willing if not always capable.”

“Hooray for Aunt Molly!” cried Marjorie, and all responded with a will.

Then Marguerite and Jessie put their pretty heads together and planned costumes for the young actresses that were to be dreams of beauty.

“But how can we get all this tarlatan and stuff?” said Marguerite.

“I’ll run up to New York,” said Jessie. “I can go in the morning and be back by six o’clock; and you know the success of this thing depends as much on the costume effects as on the music.”

Betty announced that her committee of stage-managers would be increased by the addition of Aunt Molly and Uncle Ned; and this proved a wise arrangement, for it insured attractive stage-settings and a curtain and footlights that worked beautifully.

Hester and Nan, feeling the burden of the libretto heavy upon them, went to work and soon achieved a jolly duet for Marguerite and Uncle Ned, whose voices were most harmonious. The air was from the “Mikado,” and the words were these:

CHAPERON, BURGLAR(A Duet)BURGLARThere’s beauty in the trade of burglary—There’s a subtle fascination that I feel.As I search from ground to attic,I admit a thrill ecstatic,As long as there is anything to steal.CHAPERONYes, I have a kindred feelingThat there’s something nice in stealing,As long as there is anything to steal.ChorusIf that is so, sing derry down derry;It’s very evident, veryOur tastes are one.We’ll dance and sing,So merrily trippingAnd happily skipping,Till set of sun.BURGLARThe darkness has attractions oftentimes;Electric lighting has no charms for me;Though I must say when I’m scootingThat the merits of quick shootingHave often struck me very forcibly.CHAPERONYes, although I cannot stifleMy objections to a rifle,Yet its merits sometimes strike me forcibly.Chorus.

CHAPERON, BURGLAR

(A Duet)

BURGLAR

There’s beauty in the trade of burglary—

There’s a subtle fascination that I feel.

As I search from ground to attic,

I admit a thrill ecstatic,

As long as there is anything to steal.

CHAPERON

Yes, I have a kindred feelingThat there’s something nice in stealing,As long as there is anything to steal.Chorus

Yes, I have a kindred feeling

That there’s something nice in stealing,

As long as there is anything to steal.

Chorus

If that is so, sing derry down derry;It’s very evident, veryOur tastes are one.We’ll dance and sing,So merrily trippingAnd happily skipping,Till set of sun.BURGLAR

If that is so, sing derry down derry;

It’s very evident, very

Our tastes are one.

We’ll dance and sing,

So merrily tripping

And happily skipping,

Till set of sun.

BURGLAR

The darkness has attractions oftentimes;Electric lighting has no charms for me;Though I must say when I’m scootingThat the merits of quick shootingHave often struck me very forcibly.CHAPERON

The darkness has attractions oftentimes;

Electric lighting has no charms for me;

Though I must say when I’m scooting

That the merits of quick shooting

Have often struck me very forcibly.

CHAPERON

Yes, although I cannot stifleMy objections to a rifle,Yet its merits sometimes strike me forcibly.

Yes, although I cannot stifle

My objections to a rifle,

Yet its merits sometimes strike me forcibly.

Chorus.

This was pronounced so clever, and was sung at rehearsal so prettily by Marguerite and the Amiable Burglar, that the librettists wrote another duet for the same voices:

CHAPERON, BURGLAR(A Duet)CHAPERONPrithee, gentle Burglar, tell me, tell me true—Hey, but I’m curious, willow, willow, waly—All the strange adventures that have happened unto you,Hey, willow, waly, oh!All your deeds discover, oh, my gentle rover,Hey, willow, waly, oh.BURGLARChaperon, I’ve wallowed all my life in gore—Hey, but she’s curious, willow, willow, waly!You would shrink in terror if I told you more,Hey, willow, waly, oh!Lift not the dark curtain from my life uncertain,Hey, willow, waly, oh.

CHAPERON, BURGLAR

(A Duet)

CHAPERON

Prithee, gentle Burglar, tell me, tell me true—

Hey, but I’m curious, willow, willow, waly—

All the strange adventures that have happened unto you,

Hey, willow, waly, oh!

All your deeds discover, oh, my gentle rover,

Hey, willow, waly, oh.

BURGLAR

Chaperon, I’ve wallowed all my life in gore—Hey, but she’s curious, willow, willow, waly!You would shrink in terror if I told you more,Hey, willow, waly, oh!Lift not the dark curtain from my life uncertain,Hey, willow, waly, oh.

Chaperon, I’ve wallowed all my life in gore—

Hey, but she’s curious, willow, willow, waly!

You would shrink in terror if I told you more,

Hey, willow, waly, oh!

Lift not the dark curtain from my life uncertain,

Hey, willow, waly, oh.

Then the play began to assume a sort of a plot; a bit incoherent, to be sure, but still enough of a thread to string songs upon.

The Burglar, proving to be a most kind gentleman, quite won the hearts of the inmates of Hilarity Hall, and they, in turn, grew so fond of him that they wished to be adopted. Their plea was that, all being nieces of the Burglar’s wife, he ought to give them a home.

This was musically set forth by solos and choruses to the old tune of “Solomon Levi.”

SOLOS AND CHORUSOh, I’m the capable Chaperon—I’ll come at your command;And I will rule with a rod of ironThis rollicking, frolicking band.And I’m the shining Scullery-maid;I’ll keep your pans so brightThat your kitchen will seem a golden dreamAnd your scullery your delight.ChorusOh, Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you,Dear Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you.We’re nieces of your wife, you know—you ought to care for such;And besides we’re very capable girls, and we could help you much;So you must see what a scheme ’twould beTo let the sisters come,And we’ll do our best to make a successOf Mr. Burglar’s home.And I’m the capable Camera Fiend—With you I’d like to live;And though I take most everything,I won’t take a negative.And I’m the Wandering Minstrel,And my banjo I will bring,And should you give a minstrel showI’ll play for you and sing.Chorus.And I’m the Popular Poet;Should there ever come a timeWhen you will not listen to reasonI will make you listen to rime.And I’m the Snipping Snuffer,And I know what I’m about;Should any flame of anger riseI’ll quickly snuff it out.Chorus.I’m the Peregrinating Peeler;I will peel your onions well,And when the dinner’s readyI will gladly peal the bell.And you must see, and we all agree,When every one else is took,You’ll certainly make an awful mistake,Unless you take the Cook.Chorus.

SOLOS AND CHORUS

Oh, I’m the capable Chaperon—

I’ll come at your command;

And I will rule with a rod of iron

This rollicking, frolicking band.

And I’m the shining Scullery-maid;

I’ll keep your pans so bright

That your kitchen will seem a golden dream

And your scullery your delight.

Chorus

Oh, Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you,Dear Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you.We’re nieces of your wife, you know—you ought to care for such;And besides we’re very capable girls, and we could help you much;So you must see what a scheme ’twould beTo let the sisters come,And we’ll do our best to make a successOf Mr. Burglar’s home.

Oh, Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you,

Dear Mr. Burglar, take us to live with you.

We’re nieces of your wife, you know—you ought to care for such;

And besides we’re very capable girls, and we could help you much;

So you must see what a scheme ’twould be

To let the sisters come,

And we’ll do our best to make a success

Of Mr. Burglar’s home.

And I’m the capable Camera Fiend—With you I’d like to live;And though I take most everything,I won’t take a negative.And I’m the Wandering Minstrel,And my banjo I will bring,And should you give a minstrel showI’ll play for you and sing.

And I’m the capable Camera Fiend—

With you I’d like to live;

And though I take most everything,

I won’t take a negative.

And I’m the Wandering Minstrel,

And my banjo I will bring,

And should you give a minstrel show

I’ll play for you and sing.

Chorus.

And I’m the Popular Poet;Should there ever come a timeWhen you will not listen to reasonI will make you listen to rime.And I’m the Snipping Snuffer,And I know what I’m about;Should any flame of anger riseI’ll quickly snuff it out.

And I’m the Popular Poet;

Should there ever come a time

When you will not listen to reason

I will make you listen to rime.

And I’m the Snipping Snuffer,

And I know what I’m about;

Should any flame of anger rise

I’ll quickly snuff it out.

Chorus.

I’m the Peregrinating Peeler;I will peel your onions well,And when the dinner’s readyI will gladly peal the bell.And you must see, and we all agree,When every one else is took,You’ll certainly make an awful mistake,Unless you take the Cook.

I’m the Peregrinating Peeler;

I will peel your onions well,

And when the dinner’s ready

I will gladly peal the bell.

And you must see, and we all agree,

When every one else is took,

You’ll certainly make an awful mistake,

Unless you take the Cook.

Chorus.

The Burglar, appalled at the idea of introducing eight merry maidens into his quiet and secluded home, voices his indignation in a barytone solo:

BURGLAR’S SONG1. Oh, you must admit that it’s not a bitThe theme for a jovial song—That a man, should he marry, is obliged to carryHis wife’s relations along.And I do declare that it makes my hairStand up in the wildest twirlsWhen I pause on the brink and stop and thinkOf the appetites of those girls.ChorusFor the Cooking Club eats all night,And the Cooking Club eats all day,And don’t you think that you would shrinkFrom boarding them without pay?I shall tear my hair in wild despair,And pipe my lachrymal glands,And curse my lot that ever I gotA Cooking Club on my hands.So great those girls’ demandsThat my lachrymal glandsI shall pipe and rave when I find I haveA Cooking Club on my hands.2. I shall have no rest, for Huyler’s bestThey will crave from morn till night,And express their wishes for dainty dishes,Not offering me a bite.They will make it a habit to cook Welsh rabbitIn the hours wee and small;And again I vow that I don’t know howI shall stand the expense at all.Chorus.

BURGLAR’S SONG

1. Oh, you must admit that it’s not a bit

The theme for a jovial song—

That a man, should he marry, is obliged to carry

His wife’s relations along.

And I do declare that it makes my hair

Stand up in the wildest twirls

When I pause on the brink and stop and think

Of the appetites of those girls.

Chorus

For the Cooking Club eats all night,And the Cooking Club eats all day,And don’t you think that you would shrinkFrom boarding them without pay?

For the Cooking Club eats all night,

And the Cooking Club eats all day,

And don’t you think that you would shrink

From boarding them without pay?

I shall tear my hair in wild despair,And pipe my lachrymal glands,And curse my lot that ever I gotA Cooking Club on my hands.

I shall tear my hair in wild despair,

And pipe my lachrymal glands,

And curse my lot that ever I got

A Cooking Club on my hands.

So great those girls’ demandsThat my lachrymal glandsI shall pipe and rave when I find I haveA Cooking Club on my hands.

So great those girls’ demands

That my lachrymal glands

I shall pipe and rave when I find I have

A Cooking Club on my hands.

2. I shall have no rest, for Huyler’s bestThey will crave from morn till night,And express their wishes for dainty dishes,Not offering me a bite.They will make it a habit to cook Welsh rabbitIn the hours wee and small;And again I vow that I don’t know howI shall stand the expense at all.

2. I shall have no rest, for Huyler’s best

They will crave from morn till night,

And express their wishes for dainty dishes,

Not offering me a bite.

They will make it a habit to cook Welsh rabbit

In the hours wee and small;

And again I vow that I don’t know how

I shall stand the expense at all.

Chorus.

But, notwithstanding his misgivings, the Burglar takes the eight sisters to his palatial home and installs them there; whereupon his remonstrances with them for their great extravagance calls forth this musical gem:

THE BURGLE SONGThe Burglar blows about the clothesAnd costly jewels the girls are getting;He swears and scowls and groans and growls,His previous contract sore regretting.Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,Flying, flying, flying.Oh, hark! oh, hear! how loud and clear,And louder, nearer, madder growing,With direful threats about his debts,The blustering Burglar still is blowing.Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,Sighing, sighing, sighing.Although his tread may wake the dead,Although his voice with rage may quiver,We’ll never stop; from shop to shop,We’ll buy forever and forever.Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer sisters,Buying, buying, buying.

THE BURGLE SONGThe Burglar blows about the clothesAnd costly jewels the girls are getting;He swears and scowls and groans and growls,His previous contract sore regretting.

THE BURGLE SONG

The Burglar blows about the clothes

And costly jewels the girls are getting;

He swears and scowls and groans and growls,

His previous contract sore regretting.

Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,Flying, flying, flying.

Blow, Burglar, blow!

Send the wild sisters flying.

Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,

Flying, flying, flying.

Oh, hark! oh, hear! how loud and clear,And louder, nearer, madder growing,With direful threats about his debts,The blustering Burglar still is blowing.

Oh, hark! oh, hear! how loud and clear,

And louder, nearer, madder growing,

With direful threats about his debts,

The blustering Burglar still is blowing.

Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,Sighing, sighing, sighing.

Blow, Burglar, blow!

Send the wild sisters flying.

Blow, Burglar, answer echoes,

Sighing, sighing, sighing.

Although his tread may wake the dead,Although his voice with rage may quiver,We’ll never stop; from shop to shop,We’ll buy forever and forever.

Although his tread may wake the dead,

Although his voice with rage may quiver,

We’ll never stop; from shop to shop,

We’ll buy forever and forever.

Blow, Burglar, blow!Send the wild sisters flying.Blow, Burglar, answer sisters,Buying, buying, buying.

Blow, Burglar, blow!

Send the wild sisters flying.

Blow, Burglar, answer sisters,

Buying, buying, buying.

This declaration of independence meets with favor among the extravagant eight, and they indulge in a gleeful

CHORUSSing a song of samples,A pocket full of stuff;Four-and-twenty patterns,But we haven’t got enough.When the shops are openThe girls begin to flock;Isn’tthata pretty pieceTo make a pretty frock?The Burglar’s in the tantrums’Cause we spend his money;He’s always in a fidget’Cause creditors are dunny;But the sisters are in clover,As you may suppose,Sitting on the parlor floorChoosing summer clothes.

CHORUS

Sing a song of samples,

A pocket full of stuff;

Four-and-twenty patterns,

But we haven’t got enough.

When the shops are open

The girls begin to flock;

Isn’tthata pretty piece

To make a pretty frock?

The Burglar’s in the tantrums’Cause we spend his money;He’s always in a fidget’Cause creditors are dunny;But the sisters are in clover,As you may suppose,Sitting on the parlor floorChoosing summer clothes.

The Burglar’s in the tantrums

’Cause we spend his money;

He’s always in a fidget

’Cause creditors are dunny;

But the sisters are in clover,

As you may suppose,

Sitting on the parlor floor

Choosing summer clothes.

As Millicent positively declared she could not sing a solo, Nan wrote a recitation for her, and one of the gems of the whole performance was Millicent’s well-rendered

MONOLOGUEAll the world’s a stage,And all the men and women merely players;But lovely woman with her witching wilesFar better acts her part than awkward man;With clever, ready wit she takes her cues,Adapts herself to each and every rôle,Is sad or merry, grave or gay, at will;Enacts with equal ease the pert soubrette,Or blushing ingénue, or tragic queen,And in her time plays many various parts,Her acts being seven ages.At first the infant,Noting the ribbons on her nurse’s cap.And then the school-girl with her shining braidsAnd spotless pinafore, conning her task,Rising from form to form, until she bloomsIn cap and gown, a sweet girl graduate.And then the lovely debutante all smiles,And airy chiffon gown and ribbons white,And flowers and fans, and just a trace or twoOf sentiment embodied in a note,Or faded flower, or treasured photograph.And then the beauteous belle of all the ball-rooms,Heroine of several winters; clever, cool,Graciously kind to foreign noblemen,Seeking a title rôle, lest she remain,As now, a peerless beauty. Then the bride,In fair white trailing robes, with orange-blooms,Priceless ancestral lace, and family pearls,With blushing, downcast glance and modest mien,Unthinking vows, “Love, honor, and obey.”And then the widow in her dainty weeds,Whose youthful charms and coquette glance belieHer stalwart sons, her matron’s voiceTurning again to happy girlish tones,So well she plays her part. Last scene of all,That ends this strange, eventful history:The dowager, with jewels and feathers decked —Eager to gossip, eager too to hearThe latest scandal; seeing everythingThrough glasses darkly; charming to the last,A wondrous masterpiece of modern art —False teeth, false hair, false skin, false everything.

MONOLOGUE

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

But lovely woman with her witching wiles

Far better acts her part than awkward man;

With clever, ready wit she takes her cues,

Adapts herself to each and every rôle,

Is sad or merry, grave or gay, at will;

Enacts with equal ease the pert soubrette,

Or blushing ingénue, or tragic queen,

And in her time plays many various parts,

Her acts being seven ages.

At first the infant,Noting the ribbons on her nurse’s cap.And then the school-girl with her shining braidsAnd spotless pinafore, conning her task,Rising from form to form, until she bloomsIn cap and gown, a sweet girl graduate.And then the lovely debutante all smiles,And airy chiffon gown and ribbons white,And flowers and fans, and just a trace or twoOf sentiment embodied in a note,Or faded flower, or treasured photograph.And then the beauteous belle of all the ball-rooms,Heroine of several winters; clever, cool,Graciously kind to foreign noblemen,Seeking a title rôle, lest she remain,As now, a peerless beauty. Then the bride,In fair white trailing robes, with orange-blooms,Priceless ancestral lace, and family pearls,With blushing, downcast glance and modest mien,Unthinking vows, “Love, honor, and obey.”And then the widow in her dainty weeds,Whose youthful charms and coquette glance belieHer stalwart sons, her matron’s voiceTurning again to happy girlish tones,So well she plays her part. Last scene of all,That ends this strange, eventful history:The dowager, with jewels and feathers decked —Eager to gossip, eager too to hearThe latest scandal; seeing everythingThrough glasses darkly; charming to the last,A wondrous masterpiece of modern art —False teeth, false hair, false skin, false everything.

At first the infant,

Noting the ribbons on her nurse’s cap.

And then the school-girl with her shining braids

And spotless pinafore, conning her task,

Rising from form to form, until she blooms

In cap and gown, a sweet girl graduate.

And then the lovely debutante all smiles,

And airy chiffon gown and ribbons white,

And flowers and fans, and just a trace or two

Of sentiment embodied in a note,

Or faded flower, or treasured photograph.

And then the beauteous belle of all the ball-rooms,

Heroine of several winters; clever, cool,

Graciously kind to foreign noblemen,

Seeking a title rôle, lest she remain,

As now, a peerless beauty. Then the bride,

In fair white trailing robes, with orange-blooms,

Priceless ancestral lace, and family pearls,

With blushing, downcast glance and modest mien,

Unthinking vows, “Love, honor, and obey.”

And then the widow in her dainty weeds,

Whose youthful charms and coquette glance belie

Her stalwart sons, her matron’s voice

Turning again to happy girlish tones,

So well she plays her part. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange, eventful history:

The dowager, with jewels and feathers decked —

Eager to gossip, eager too to hear

The latest scandal; seeing everything

Through glasses darkly; charming to the last,

A wondrous masterpiece of modern art —

False teeth, false hair, false skin, false everything.

CHAPTER XI

A SUCCESSFUL PERFORMANCE

THE great day drew near. The play was to be presented on Friday evening, and much was to be done by way of preparation.

Uncle Ned and two carpenters were building a stage in the parlor, which, though small, was a jolly little affair; and Aunt Molly, who was a bit of an artist, was painting some crude but effective scenery.

Betty was supposed to be helping Uncle Ned, and Marjorie and Millicent were trying to help the scenic artist; but if their assistance wasn’t very valuable, they at least knew enough not to hinder the head workers.

Jessie and Marguerite were devising stunning costumes and strange-looking “properties,” the use of which no one could guess.

These two modistes were continually making pilgrimages to the shops of Long Beach; which emporiums never, by any chance, yielded up the materials the anxious maidens were in search of.

“Going to the store again?” said Marjorie, as Marguerite flew by her with an anxious face.

“Yes; wemusthave some red stuff, if I have to use paper.”

“Take Timmy Loo, won’t you? He hasn’t had a run to-day.”

“Course I will. Come on, Tim.” And the Chaperon flew away, followed by the silver-blue Skye. After an hour or more the yellow-haired Chaperon returned in a state of exhaustion.

“I’llnevertake that dog out with me again,” she declared, with such a tragic air that Marjorie felt certain her pet must have brought disgrace upon the whole club.

“Why, what has my bad little bundle of a dog been a-doing?” she inquired, grabbing up the quivering bunch of silver curls and blue ribbon.

“He wasn’t bad,” said Marguerite, laughing, “but he’s such a nuisance. I thought I should never get home. He made me go into every shop in the village.”

“That didn’t takeverylong,” observed Betty, dryly.

“No; but he insisted on being fed at each place; and he knows exactly where they all keep their eatables. At the grocer’s he flew to the glass case where the chocolates are, and pawed at it and whined until Mr. Forbes had to open it and give him some. Then at the milliner’s, where I was buying ribbon, he tore out into her back parlor, and jumped up on a table, trying to reach a little chest of drawers where, it seems, she keeps sugar-lumps. And even at the dry-goods shop he dived behind a lot of rolls of stuff and found a paper bag of ginger cookies. Oh, he’s a terror! How does he know all these places?”

“He smells them out!” said Marjorie, patting Tim’s head, while the dog, understanding that he was being praised, wagged his bit of a tail and blinked his eyes proudly.

“And when he had found the things,” continued Marguerite, “he never offered to touch them, but just sat up and begged, with that cocky blue bow sticking up behind, and of course nobody could refuse him.”

“I should think not!” cried Marjorie, hugging her treasure. “Of course nobody could refuse a bit of chocolate or sugar to such a polite, refined, well-bred little doggikins, whoalwayskeeps his bow at the back of his neck!” And Tim fairly glowed at her fond appreciation.

Although for several days Hilarity Hall was in a most chaotic state of preparation, and although it seemed as if order never could come of it, yet on Friday evening at seven o’clock everything was in complete readiness.

Helen’s banjo music was augmented by the two Hillis boys, Frank and Raymond, one of whom played the banjo and the other the mandolin.

They were nice boys, and when Aunt Molly invited them to play for the Hilarity Hall girls they were more than pleased.

The girls liked it too, especially Marguerite and Jessie, who immediately assumed the coy and bewitching airs which they thought the occasion demanded.

“But why so many chairs?” asked Marjorie, as Uncle Ned brought over more and more from his own cottage, and Aunt Molly placed them in compact rows in the parlor.

“Don’t ask questions, miss,” said her uncle. “You left the invitation of an audience to your charming and capable aunt, and now ’tis yours not to make reply, yours not to wonder why, but run along and don that fetching costume in which you’re to dazzle the eyes of this large and imposing audience.”

“Imposed-on audience you mean, Uncle Ned,” said Marjorie, as she danced away.

The Blue Ribbon Club had a uniform, which they had concluded to wear in their play. It was a plain gown of soft light-gray material, with a ruffled white muslin kerchief. A picturesque effect was gained by a hooded cape of the gray lined with pink.

Marguerite declared that Aunt Molly was an honorary member of the club, and she must have a uniform too. So one was made for her, and the nine ladies made a pretty picture in the nun-like garb.

At last all was in readiness, and the audience was beginning to arrive.

From behind the curtain the girls could hear the rustling of the programs and hearty laughter from the appreciative readers. The programs were the work of Betty and Hester, and were declared by all to be a triumph of genius.

Here is a copy of one:

ANNUAL ENGAGEMENTOF THEHILARITY HALL OPERA COMPANYPRESENTINGA New and OriginalMusical FarceENTITLEDHILARITY HALLFIRST PRODUCTION ON ANY STAGEOF THIS POPULAR OPERETTALibretto by the Blue Ribbon ClubMusic by Sir Arthur Sullivan and othersINTERPRETED BY THE FOLLOWINGPhenomenal Cast(THE ONLY COMPANY AUTHORIZED TOPRESENT THIS OPERA)

ANNUAL ENGAGEMENT

OF THE

HILARITY HALL OPERA COMPANY

PRESENTING

A New and Original

Musical Farce

ENTITLED

HILARITY HALL

FIRST PRODUCTION ON ANY STAGE

OF THIS POPULAR OPERETTA

Libretto by the Blue Ribbon Club

Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan and others

INTERPRETED BY THE FOLLOWING

Phenomenal Cast

(THE ONLY COMPANY AUTHORIZED TO

PRESENT THIS OPERA)

The Chaperon, Matron, and General Guardian,Miss Marguerite AldenThe Poet, whose rime is even worse than her reason,Miss Anna KelloggThe Camera Fiend, a taking young lady,Miss Hester LaverackThe Scullery-maid, a shining success,Miss Jessica CarrollThe Lamplighter, with wick-ed ways,Miss Millicent PayneThe Wandering Minstrel, who wanders in her mind,Miss Helen MorrisThe Peeler, who plays a skin game,Miss Elizabeth MillerThe Cook, winner of the Blue Ribbon,Miss Marjorie BondRobin Steele, an Amiable Burglar,Mr. Edward WarburtonAdvisory BoardMrs. Edward Warburton

The Chaperon, Matron, and General Guardian,

Miss Marguerite Alden

The Poet, whose rime is even worse than her reason,

Miss Anna Kellogg

The Camera Fiend, a taking young lady,

Miss Hester Laverack

The Scullery-maid, a shining success,

Miss Jessica Carroll

The Lamplighter, with wick-ed ways,

Miss Millicent Payne

The Wandering Minstrel, who wanders in her mind,

Miss Helen Morris

The Peeler, who plays a skin game,

Miss Elizabeth Miller

The Cook, winner of the Blue Ribbon,

Miss Marjorie Bond

Robin Steele, an Amiable Burglar,

Mr. Edward Warburton

Advisory Board

Mrs. Edward Warburton

Notice.In case of fire, escape may be made by any door or window.Notice.Explanatory diagrams of the principal jokes will be supplied by the ushers, free of charge.Patrons of this theater will confer a favor on the management by reporting any inattention on the part of the employees (or the audience).Tickets picked up on the sidewalk are worthless, and will not be received at the door.The management begs respectfully to call the attention of the audience to the unique electric-lighting defects.The piano used on this occasion doesn’t seem to be here.

Notice.In case of fire, escape may be made by any door or window.

Notice.Explanatory diagrams of the principal jokes will be supplied by the ushers, free of charge.

Patrons of this theater will confer a favor on the management by reporting any inattention on the part of the employees (or the audience).

Tickets picked up on the sidewalk are worthless, and will not be received at the door.

The management begs respectfully to call the attention of the audience to the unique electric-lighting defects.

The piano used on this occasion doesn’t seem to be here.

As the curtain began to rise, the audience gave way to wild and enthusiastic applause, more boisterous indeed than might have been expected from the sedate and decorous friends whom Aunt Molly had invited.

But the curtain was not fairly up before the flustered girls on the stage perceived the reason of this outburst.

The front row of chairs was entirely occupied by the Middleton boys whose presence they had so insistently forbidden.

There were Marjorie’s two brothers, and Nan’s one; there were the Burleigh boys, Ted Lewis, Dick Morton, and Roger Hale.

With faces on a broad grin, they proceeded to make both manual and vociferous protestations of delight until the opening chorus began.

But this did not entirely silence the happy ones in the front row. No; the airs of the operetta being familiar to them, the boys joined their strong young voices to those of the prima donnas on the stage, and the result was truly fine.

The play went on beautifully. Marguerite looked so pretty and sang so well that she, perhaps, received the most applause among the girls.

But Uncle Ned was so funny as the Amiable Burglar, and introduced such funny jokes and antics into his part, that he was by all odds the star of the evening.

Betty forgot her part several times, but, being quick-witted, she extemporized bits that were better than her original lines.

Helen proved to be the best actress, and her sleep-walking scene was so effective that she was advised to study forLady Macbeth.

Jessie was stage-struck. Her round, rosy little face grew pale, her blue eyes stared, and her voice failed her entirely. Less embarrassed than dazed, she walked to a chair at one end of the stage, and sat down, calmly folding her arms. This delighted the audience, who greatly applauded the bewildered actress.

In the second act the girls all wore frilled white tarlatan dresses, with sashes and bows of pale green ribbon.

The scene was a flowery garden, and it was most attractive, with a rose hedge at the back, and palms and flowering bushes all about. To be sure, the roses were made of pink tissue-paper, but they were very effective, and the group of lovely girls were slowly waving feather fans in time to a slow, soft

CHORUSWaft, waft in slow, sweet cadencesEach fan whose use a maiden’s is,More worthy praise, in summer days,Than needle, spoon, or pen.Touch lightly each resounding string,O Wandering Minstrel, while we singOf hearts by fate made desolateAnd of the Now and Then.Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadencesEach fan whose use a maiden’s is.

CHORUSWaft, waft in slow, sweet cadencesEach fan whose use a maiden’s is,More worthy praise, in summer days,Than needle, spoon, or pen.

CHORUS

Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadences

Each fan whose use a maiden’s is,

More worthy praise, in summer days,

Than needle, spoon, or pen.

Touch lightly each resounding string,O Wandering Minstrel, while we singOf hearts by fate made desolateAnd of the Now and Then.

Touch lightly each resounding string,

O Wandering Minstrel, while we sing

Of hearts by fate made desolate

And of the Now and Then.

Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadencesEach fan whose use a maiden’s is.

Waft, waft in slow, sweet cadences

Each fan whose use a maiden’s is.

“Ah!” cried the boys, in concert, as the chorus concluded. “Ah, ah, ah!” But though they were in a teasing mood, they were careful not to disturb the play seriously, and the merry farce came successfully to a finish.

Then the boys’ merriment broke loose. They swarmed up on to the stage; they kissed the girls who were their sisters or cousins, and shook hands vigorously with those who were not. They greeted Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly effusively; for was it not owing to them that this joyful treat was brought about? Indeed, you never saw such gay, irrepressible spirits as those Middleton guests were.

When they adjourned to the dining-room the Feast Committee found that their provision had been amply supplemented, and the rose-garlanded, tarlatan-frocked ladies found that histrionic laurels in no way affected their appetites.

“When did you come?” asked Marjorie of Jack Kellogg. “You know I told you you positively couldn’t.”

Marjorie had on her Duchess air, but Jack, being a brave youth, was not afraid of her.

“I know,” he replied; “but your Aunt Molly said we positively could, and so we’re here, and—what do you think of this? We’re staying at the Long Beach Inn, and we’re not going home until to-morrow night!”

CHAPTER XII

THE BOYS’ ENTERTAINMENT

‟WELL,” said Marjorie, “I suppose we’ve got those boys on our hands for this whole day”; and the Duchess’s pretty brow wrinkled as if with the cares of a nation.

It was the morning after the play, and the house was in a state of “chaos and old night,” as Betty expressed it.

“I’m glad of it,” said Marguerite, frankly. “I think we’ll have lots of fun, and there are so many things we can do.”

“We can clear up this house, for one,” said Hester, looking dubiously at the wreck of scenery and properties scattered all about.

“Let’s make the boys clear it up,” suggested Betty.

“Good for you!” cried Jessie. “Youdohave brilliant ideas sometimes, don’t you, Betsy? Those scapegraces have imposed themselves upon us, and they may as well be put to use.”

“Where are they? I don’t see them,” said Nan, peering under the tables and chairs.

“Oh, they’ll be here soon enough; don’t worry,” said Millicent, who was calmly eating a late breakfast. “They are but henchmen; let us command them. They should be only too glad to do our bidding.”

Very soon after, with a wild war-whoop, the boys appeared.

“What a lazy lot!” they cried, looking at the table. “Why, we had breakfast hours ago, and we’ve had a swim and a run, and we’ve called on Aunt Molly, and—oh, I say, give us some jam?”

“Not until you work for it,” said Millicent, putting the jam-jar in the cupboard and standing in front of the closed door. “You see the disarray of our household gods. Well, restore this palace to its original exquisite tidiness and order, and you shall have—a spoonful of jam apiece.”

“A spoonful!” cried Harry Bond. “A jarful, you mean! But come on, fellows; let’s fire out this trash.”

There were ten boys, for the eight who came down from Middleton had promptly annexed the two Hillis boys; and the rapidity with which Hilarity Hall was put in order was suggestive of a Western cyclone.

“You girls vamoose,” shouted Roger Hale. “Run upstairs, or outdoors, or across the street, or somewhere, and quick!”

The Blue Ribbon Club as one girl flew upstairs, and proceeded to dictate orders over the banister, which, however, were unheeded and even unheard.

Timmy Loo danced frantically about among the marauding boys until he was unceremoniously swept out of the front door by Roger’s broom. He was rescued by Rosie, who, much astounded at the turn things had taken, ran over to Aunt Molly’s for shelter and safety. But soon the squall was over and calm reigned again.

“Come down, girls,” called Ted Lewis. “One free, all free!”

Down came the club, bright and smiling, with fresh shirt-waists and the additional ribbons or trinkets that masculine presence always seems to necessitate.

“There, milady,” said Harry Bond to Millicent, “your palace is restored to all its pristine glory, and now fork over that jam.”

So the jam and everything else the larder contained was set forth, and those voracious boys speedily despatched it all.

“Now,” said Harry Bond, “we’re all going down to the beach to take pictures and otherwise enjoy ourselves this pleasant morning; and then, since you urge us so, we’re all coming back here to dinner.”

“Do,” said Marjorie, heartily; “that will be lots of fun.” And all the other girls echoed her opinion, except Marguerite and Nan.

“But youcan’t!” exclaimed the embarrassed Matron. “You see, it’s Nannie’s and my turn to get dinner to-day, and there isn’t half enough in the house for such a horde of pirates, and—and we’d have to stay home all the morning to get ready for you!”

Marguerite looked the picture of distress at the thought of missing the fun on the beach, and Nan looked placidly indifferent, but had no appearance of intending to be left behind.

“We’ll take the ‘Whitecap’ to the beach with us,” she said, as she put on her hat, “and the boys can draw pictures in it. Jack’s quite clever at catching a likeness.”

“Butwhatabout dinner?” said Marguerite, piteously, her responsibilities as Chaperon suddenly beginning to weigh upon her.

“That’s all right, Daisy,” said Tom Burleigh, who had been holding a whispered but emphatic conversation with Harry Bond. “We realize the unexpectedness of this visitation, and ’tis but natural that you girls should find yourselves unable to cope with it—whereupon and therefore and for which reason we beg to inform you that we will get the dinner ourselves, and all we ask of you, fair ladies, is your gracious company.”

With a flourish and a grand bow, Tom completed his speech and awaited a reply.

“It doesn’t seem quite right,” said Marguerite; but Betty said:

“Oh, bother! of course it’s all right. It’ll do you boys good to do a little work, and I, for one, accept your invitation with delight.”

“Me, too!” shouted all the other girls, and Marjorie inquired where the dinner would be served.

“In Hilarity Hall, of course,” said Tom. “But don’t ask questions, miss. When you’re invited out you mustn’t be rude.”

“And we’ll invite the kind lady and gentleman next door,” put in Roger, “for ’tis to them we owe this trip, anyway.”

Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly were pleased to accept the invitation which was duly offered them; and then, after a few mysterious confabs with Rosie, the boys declared they were at the young ladies’ services, and all ran down to the beach.

They stayed until noon, when Tom Burleigh, who announced himself as Master of Ceremonies, ordered the whole crowd back to the cottage.

“Now, ladies,” he said, as they arrived, “every one of you fly upstairs to your rooms, and occupy yourselves with sewing dolls’ rags, or knitting aprons, or whatever pastime pleases you. Take beauty-naps if you like, but don’t dare to appear on the first floor of this cottage until summoned by the dinner-horn.”

Marguerite and Jessie wanted to stay and help the new cooks, but it was not allowed; so upstairs the girls trooped, and Ted Lewis tied rope barriers across the staircase.

“Those ridiculous boys!” said Marjorie, as the girls congregated in her room. “They won’t have half enough plates or forks or anything.”

“Yes, they will,” said Betty, confidently; “they’ll have everything ship-shape; don’t you worry.”

“From the noise, I should think they were building a house,” said Nan; and, sure enough, hammering and pounding was going on below, as well as the clattering of dishes and much scurrying to and fro.

Of course the girls looked out of the windows, and they saw Rosie and some of the boys bringing piles of plates and cups from Aunt Molly’s; but as that lady herself did not appear, they guessed she, too, had been forbidden to assist.

After an hour or more of impatient excitement on the part of the girls, Rosie came up to them, broadly smiling.

“The young gintlemin bid me say that dinner is about to be served, and w’u’d yez please come down to the parlor.”

So the girls trooped down, and found Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly awaiting them.

Then the boys appeared, and, with obsequious demonstrations of greeting and compliment, they invited their guests to the dining-room.

The boys all wore aprons, having confiscated, with Rosie’s help, all those belonging to the club.

Big Tom Burleigh looked especially funny in a lacy, frilly little affair of Jessie’s, and as there had not been quite enough to go round, Harry Bond had made a big pinafore of newspapers. Then some of the boys had found time to make cooks’ paper caps for them all, and, with paper roses left from the night before in their buttonholes, their appearance was festive indeed.

The dining-room was a sight to behold. They had discarded the regular dining-table, and built a long narrow one of the boards of the dismantled stage. This table, whose length was such that it required three table-cloths, was decorated with great bowls of paper roses; and the whole room was decked with green branches, palms, and paper flowers, all of which had done duty as the garden in the play.

The twenty people seated themselves at the long and festive board, Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly, of course, being invited to sit at the head and foot; and then Rosie began to serve the feast.

But one waitress was far from being enough for that hungry crowd, so the be-aproned boys took turns in playing waiter.

The first course was clam chowder, of which the Burleigh boys were justly famed concocters. It was wonderfully good, and as they had made a great kettleful, there was enough and to spare.

Next was a course of broiled lobster. Although the boys pretended at first that they had cooked these, they afterward confessed that they had ordered them sent over from the Inn. But their guests cared not a jot where the lobsters had met their fiery fate, and pronounced them the most delicious ever tasted.

After this came blackberry-pies, half a dozen of them, and Aunt Molly fairly blushed as encomiums were showered on her contribution to the spread.

The coffee was fine. Ted Lewis always made it in camp, and being accustomed to making large quantities, and in a big tin pail instead of a coffee-pot, he had no trouble in turning out a perfect concoction.

Crackers and a red-coated cheese made their appearance, also a big basket of fruit, and Uncle Ned had brought over a box of bonbons, so the merry crowd sat for a long time over their dessert—so long, indeed, that the boys were obliged to leave the table and scurry away to catch their home-bound train.

“You’ll have a few dishes to wash,” said Harry Bond, with a twinkle in his eye. “But that’s woman’s work—a nice housewifely occupation.”

“Oh, they’ll be done all right,” said his sister; “and now run, Harry, or you’ll be late. Give lots of love to mamma and grandma, and tell them—” But Harry was out of sight and hearing by that time, so Marjorie didn’t send her message.

“Now!” said Betty, as they turned back to the deserted dining-room. “What a clutteration! But I s’pose if ’twere done when ’tis done, ’twere well ’twere done quickly.”

“Yes,” said Hester the practical; “let’s fly at it and clear everything up, and then sit out on the veranda and talk it all over.”

Aunt Molly and Uncle Ned were politely invited to go home, and then the many hands went at the work, and it was accomplished with surprising quickness.

Then the Blue Ribbon Club grouped itself on the veranda, and if those eight tongues didn’t wag!

They talked as an octave until bed-time, and then, breaking up into duets, they kept on talking until they fell asleep.

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