long talking at
Sutton Leigh, the wandering about the house, and the many discussions,
her mamma was completely tired out, and obliged, when they came home,
to confess that she had a headache. Henrietta fairly wished her safe at
Rocksand.

While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading
her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one
matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand
object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting
down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with "Now
listen to me, my dear child," and proceeded with a long story of
certain private theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain
knowledge, ended in a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice
set to work to argue: in the first place it was not probable that either
she or Henrietta would run away with their cousins; secondly, that the
former elopement was not chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that
these were not private theatricals at all.

"And pray what are they, then--when you dress yourselves up, and speak
the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?"

"You pay us a great compliment," said Beatrice, who could sometimes
be pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her
explanation of how very far this was from anything that could be called
theatrical; it was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was
the important point. The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it
was play-acting, and that was enough for her, and she would not have it
done.

"But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent." This was a
powerful piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at
the first moment the shot did not tell.

"Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this," said Mrs.
Langford, "and let who would consent, she would never have her
granddaughters standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before
a whole room full of company."

"Well, then, grandmamma, I'll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not
have one single scene out of Shakespeare--not one. Won't that do?"

"You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse," said Mrs.
Langford.

"No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it
shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come
in at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every on