turning over the engravings.

Daisy's old puzzle came back on her; she was silent.

"Common people always hate the uncommon, Daisy. Now what next?--Ah! here
is what will do. This is beautiful."

"What is it?"

"Portia and Bassanio. He has just got that letter, you know."

"What letter?"

"Why, Antonio's letter. O don't you know the story? Bassanio was
Antonio's friend, and--O dear, it is a long story, Daisy. You must read
it."

"But what is the picture about?"

"This. Bassanio has just this minute been married to Portia,--the
loveliest lady in all the world; that he knew of; and now comes a
letter, just that minute, telling him that his dear friend Antonio is in
great danger of being cut to pieces through the wickedness of a fellow
that he had borrowed money from. And the money had been borrowed for
Bassanio, to set him up for his courtship--so no wonder he feels rather
bad."

"Does she know?"

"No; she is just asking what is the matter. That will be a capital
picture."

"But you couldn't stand and look like that," said Daisy.

"I shall not," said Preston, "but Hamilton Rush will. I shall give it to
him. And--let me see--for Portia--that Fish girl cannot do it, she is
not clever enough. It will have to be Theresa Stanfield."

"I should like to see anybody look like _that_," said Daisy.

"Well, you will. We shall have to go to another book of
engravings.--Hollo! here you are again, Daisy. This will do for you
exactly. Exactly!"

"What is it?"

"Why Daisy, these are two old Puritans; young ones, I mean, of course;
and they are very fond of each other, you know, but somehow they don't
know it. Or one of them don't, and he has been goose enough to come to
ask Priscilla if she will be his friend's wife. Of course she is
astonished at him."

"She does not look astonished."

"No, that is because she is a Puritan. She takes it all quietly, only
she says she has an objection to be this other man's wife. And then John
finds what a fool he is. That's capital. You shall be Priscilla; you
will do it and look it beautifully."

"I do not think I want to be Priscilla,"--said Daisy slowly.

"Yes, you do. You will. It will make such a beautiful picture. I reckon
Alexander Fish will make a good John Alden--he has nice curly hair."

"So have you," said Daisy; "and longer than Alexander's, and more like
the picture."

"I am manager, Daisy. That wouldn't do."

"I shall not be in that picture if Alexander is th