rywhere. Jill was costumer, with help from Miss
Delano, who did not care for balls, and kindly took charge of the girls.
Jack printed tickets, programmes, and placards of the most imposing
sort, and the work went gayly on till all was ready.

When the evening came, the Bird Room presented a fine appearance. One
end was curtained off with red drapery; and real footlights, with tin
shades, gave a truly theatrical air to the little stage. Rows of chairs,
filled with mammas and little people, occupied the rest of the space.
The hall and Frank's room were full of amused papas, uncles, and old
gentlemen whose patriotism brought them out in spite of rheumatism.
There was a great rustling of skirts, fluttering of fans, and much
lively chat, till a bell rang and the orchestra struck up.

Yes, there really was an orchestra, for Ed declared that the national
airs _must_ be played, or the whole thing would be a failure. So he had
exerted himself to collect all the musical talent he could find, a horn,
a fiddle, and a flute, with drum and fife for the martial scenes. Ed
looked more beaming than ever, as he waved his baton and led off with
Yankee Doodle as a safe beginning, for every one knew that. It was fun
to see little Johnny Cooper bang away on a big drum, and old Mr. Munson,
who had been a fifer all his days, blow till he was as red as a lobster,
while every one kept time to the music which put them all in good
spirits for the opening scene.

Up went the curtain and several trees in tubs appeared, then a stately
gentleman in small clothes, cocked hat, gray wig, and an imposing cane,
came slowly walking in. It was Gus, who had been unanimously chosen not
only for Washington but for the father of the hero also, that the family
traits of long legs and a somewhat massive nose might be preserved.

"Ahem! My trees are doing finely," observed Mr. W., senior, strolling
along with his hands behind him, casting satisfied glances at the
dwarf orange, oleander, abutilon, and little pine that represented his
orchard.

Suddenly he starts, pauses, frowns, and, after examining the latter
shrub, which displayed several hacks in its stem and a broken limb with
six red-velvet cherries hanging on it, he gave a thump with his cane
that made the little ones jump, and cried out,--

"Can it have been my son?"

He evidently thought it _was_, for he called, in tones of thunder,--

"George! George Washington, come hither this moment!"

Great su