Comprehensive Introduction to Object Oriented

Programming with Java 1st Edition Wu Solutions

Manual download pdf

https://testbankfan.com/product/comprehensive-introduction-to-object-
oriented-programming-with-java-1st-edition-wu-solutions-manual/

Visit testbankfan.com today to download the complete set of

test banks or solution manuals!
 We believe these products will be a great fit for you. Click
the link to download now, or visit testbankfan.com
to discover even more!

Introduction to Java Programming Comprehensive Version

10th Edition Liang Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/introduction-to-java-programming-
comprehensive-version-10th-edition-liang-solutions-manual/

Introduction to Programming with Java 2nd Edition Dean

Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/introduction-to-programming-with-
java-2nd-edition-dean-solutions-manual/

Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design

4th Edition Joyce Farrell Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/object-oriented-approach-to-
programming-logic-and-design-4th-edition-joyce-farrell-solutions-
manual/

Engineering Economics Financial Decision Making for

Engineers Canadian 5th Edition Fraser Test Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/engineering-economics-financial-
decision-making-for-engineers-canadian-5th-edition-fraser-test-bank/
Human Sexuality in a World of Diversity Fourth Canadian
Canadian 4th Edition Rathus Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/human-sexuality-in-a-world-of-
diversity-fourth-canadian-canadian-4th-edition-rathus-solutions-
manual/

Illustrated Microsoft Office 365 and Access 2016

Comprehensive 1st Edition Friedrichsen Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/illustrated-microsoft-office-365-and-
access-2016-comprehensive-1st-edition-friedrichsen-solutions-manual/

Navigating Through Mathematics 1st Edition Collins Test

Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/navigating-through-mathematics-1st-
edition-collins-test-bank/

Introduction to Food Science and Food Systems 2nd Edition

Parker Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/introduction-to-food-science-and-food-
systems-2nd-edition-parker-solutions-manual/

Management 7th Edition Robbins Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/management-7th-edition-robbins-
solutions-manual/
Human Anatomy and Physiology Laboratory Manual Fetal Pig
Version Update 10th Edition Marieb Test Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/human-anatomy-and-physiology-
laboratory-manual-fetal-pig-version-update-10th-edition-marieb-test-
bank/
Solutions to Chapter 8

1. Determine the output of the following code when the input is (a) –1, (b) 0, and (c) 12XY

try {
number = Integer.parseInt(
JOptionPane.showInputDialog(null, "input"));
if (number != 0) {
throw new Exception("Not Zero");
}
} catch (NumberFormatException e) {
System.out.println("Cannot convert to int");
} catch (Exception e) {
System.out.println("Error: " + e.getMessage());

a) Error: Not Zero

b) no output
c) Cannot convert to int

2. Determine the output of the following code when the input is (a) –1, (b) 0, and (c) 12XY.
This is the same question as Exercise 1, but the code here has the finally clause.

try {
number = Integer.parseInt(
JOptionPane.showInputDialog(null, "input"));
if (number != 0) {
throw new Exception("Not Zero");
}
} catch (NumberFormatException e) {
System.out.println("Cannot convert to int");
} catch (Exception e) {
System.out.println("Error: " + e.getMessage());
} finally {
System.out.println("Finally Clause Executed");
}

a) Error: Not Zero

Finally Clause Executed
b) Finally Clause Executed
c) Cannot convert to int
Finally Clause Executed

3. Why is the following code not a good use of the assertion?

public void compute(int size) {

assert size > 0;
//computation code comes here
 }

We should throw an exception because the argument is invalid instead of using an assertion.
Remember: use assertions to detect internal errors and use exceptions to notify the client
programmers of the misuse of our class.

4. Modify the following code by adding the assert statement. The value of gender is either
MALE or FEMALE if the program is running correctly.

switch (gender) {
case MALE: totalFee = tuition + parkingFee;
break;
case FEMALE: totalFee = tuition + roomAndBoard;
break;
}

We can add a control flow invariant as follows:

switch (gender) {
case MALE: totalFee = tuition + parkingFee;
break;
case FEMALE: totalFee = tuition + roomAndBoard;
break;
default: assert false:
"Value of gender " +
"is invalid. Value = " +
gender;
}

5. Modify the following method by adding the assert statement. Assume the variable factor is
a data member of the class.

public double compute(double value) {

return (value * value) / factor;
}

We can add a precondition assertion as follows:

public double compute(double value) {

assert factor != 0 :
"Serious Error – factor == 0, which will lead "
"to a division by zero";
return (value * value) / factor;
}

6. Modify the getInput method of the InputHandler class from Section 8.7 so that the
method will throw an exception when an empty string is entered for the name, room, or
password. Define a new exception class EmptyInputException.
 public void getInput( ) {
throws new EmptyInputException
name = JOptionPane.showInputDialog(null, "Enter Name:");
if (name.trim().equals(""))
throw new EmptyInputException("Name should not be empty");
room = JOptionPane.showInputDialog(null, "Enter Room No.:");
if (room.trim().equals(""))
throw new EmptyInputException("Room should not be empty");
pwd = JOptionPane.showInputDialog(null, "Enter Password:");
if (pwd.trim().equals(""))
throw new EmptyInputException("Password should not be
empty");
}

class EmptyInputException extends Exception {

private static final String DEFAULT_MESSAGE = "Empty input
string";

public EmptyInputException (String msg) {

super(msg);
}
}

7. The user module of the keyless entry system in Section 8.7 does not include any logic to
terminate the program. Modify the program so it will terminate when the values Admin,
X123, and $maTrix%TwO$ are entered for name, room, and password, respectively.

This only requires changing the validate method in Ch8EntranceMonitor, and possibly
adding some new constants.
See Ch8EntranceMonitor.java

Development Exercises
8. In the sample development, we developed the user module of the keyless entry system. For
this exercise, implement the administrative module that allows the system administrator to
add and delete Resident objects and modify information on existing Resident objects. The
module will also allow the user to open a list from a file and save the list to a file. Is it
proper to implement the administrative module by using one class? Wouldn’t it be a better
design if we used multiple classes with each class doing a single well-defined task?

The solution here splits the problem into two classes, one to handle functionality and one to
handle the interface.
See files AdminHandler.java and Ch8EntranceAdmin.java

9. Write an application that maintains the membership lists of five social clubs in a dormitory.
The five social clubs are the Computer Science Club, Biology Club, Billiard Club, No Sleep
Club, and Wine Tasting Club. Use the Dorm class to manage the membership lists.
Members of the social clubs are Resident objects of the dorm. Use a separate file to store
the membership list for each club. Your program should be able to include a menu item for
each social club. When a club is selected, open a ClubFrame frame that will allow the user
to add, delete, or modify members of the club. The program can have up to five ClubFrame
frames opened at the same time. Make sure you do not open multiple instances of
ClubFrame for the same club.

See files ClubFrame.java, ClubKeeper.java, Dorm.java, DormAdmin.java, and

Resident.java
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
overturned the glass of port, and away it went in one remorseless stream
down the old lady's gown. I was so horrified at the awful catastrophe that I
sat helpless, as if stunned, and the old lady was just about to pour forth a
torrent of wrathful reproaches on to my defenceless head, her eyes
meanwhile flashing as much as her diamonds, when a man sitting on the
other side of her (a fellow of about my own age now) suddenly jumped up,
seized a decanter of sherry, and saying hastily, 'Allow me, madam,' he
quietly and deliberately poured a good half of its contents upon the gown
where the darker wine had left a deep red stain."

"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris with wide-open eyes, "was that to take
the old lady's attention from off you?"

"Well, yes and no," says Colonel Danvers taking up a pear and slowly
peeling it with great nicety; "but the fact is I didn't wait to see, for the much
ill-used lady, on receiving what she thought to be an insult added to the
injury she had sustained, flew, so to speak, at this gentleman, one Major
Carpenter; and seeing that for the moment my very existence was forgotten,
I must confess that I was cowardly enough to slip out of my place
unperceived and into the hall, where a good-natured young footman, who
had seen the whole thing, I suppose, opened the library door, remarking as
he did so, 'There's a nice fire in here, sir.' You see, I couldn't go into the
drawing-room when even the ladies had not left the table."

"Poor old lady!" says Doris, cracking nuts perseveringly; "she must have
been put out with such outrageous behaviour on the part of two gentlemen.
Now, don't you think so?"

"Well, I don't know. You say 'poor old lady,' but you never give a thought
to the agonies of mind which I suffered. You are rather hard on me, I think."

"Well, but you were rather cowardly, by your own confession you were,
to run off and leave Major Carpenter to bear the full brunt of the old lady's
displeasure. O yes, it certainly was very bad of you!"

"Ah! yes, I suppose it was," says the colonel, leaning back in his chair;
"and yet, Doris, since that time I have stood before a cannon's mouth without
flinching. I have ridden across an open plain with, not cannon, but shot of all
description 'to right of me' and 'to left of me,' without so much as a friendly
shrub to protect me from the sight of the enemy. Oh! I assure you, that was a
very warm position in more senses than one. However, here I am still, safe
and sound; but I verily believe if I spilt a glass of port upon another old
lady's dress I should feel just as inclined to turn coward and run away as
ever, for the truth must be told, Doris, ever since that eventful night I have
felt a mortal antipathy, not unmixed with fear, in the company of fat, cross
old ladies."

Doris sits silent for a few seconds, giving her attention to the pear which
Colonel Danvers has just put upon her plate. Then she says, "You haven't
told me yet what your friend threw the sherry upon the dress for?"

"No, neither I have. Well, the sherry it seems, if poured over a ready-
made stain of port-wine, takes it out, only leaving a sort of ring round the
place, which, I suppose, can be easily removed with a little ordinary
cleaning. Somebody explained afterwards to the old lady why Major
Carpenter had done it, and in a few days he received a note from her,
thanking him for the service he had rendered her on the occasion of Mrs.
Mordant's dinner-party, and begging to apologize for any little annoyance
she might possibly have shown when the accident occurred. Ever after that
evening she designated me as 'that young man, Mr. Danvers,' whilst my
friend was 'that charming Major Carpenter.' There's your mother, Doris,
signalling for the ladies' departure. You must tell me all about these
theatricals in the drawing-room afterwards, will you?"

Arrived upstairs, Doris makes at once for a secluded niche draped with
curtains in one of the windows, wherein she knows she will find Honor
ensconced, probably with a book.

The book is at a discount this evening, for Regy Horton, a fair, delicate-
looking boy of seventeen, has already arrived, and he and Honor are deep in
a discussion about some picture they have lately seen, painting being an art
of which they are both passionately fond.

"Now this is really delightful!" exclaims Doris, throwing herself on the

wide window-seat beside her sister. "We will just keep here by ourselves
until the gentlemen come up, and then I will fetch Hugh and Colonel
Danvers, and we will all talk over the 27th."

"That's all very well, Doris, but you can't do just as you like to-night, you
know. You will have to talk to people; bless you, your duties are not half
over yet. Here comes mother now to fetch you. There, didn't I say so?"

"Doris, you must not hide yourself in a corner," remonstrates Mrs.

Merivale, coming up to the little group; "you must come and do your share
of talking. And have you brought any of your songs down? I shall expect
you to sing by and by."

"O, mother, I can't—I can't really! I should sink through the floor.
Besides, Molly is not here to accompany me; and she is the only one who
can, decently. Honor's a goose at accompaniments."

"Never mind, dear, we will see," says Mrs. Merivale vaguely. "Come,
Honor, and you too, Regy; we can't have any more whisperings behind
curtains when as yet there is no one to amuse the ladies."

So Doris and Honor are both dragged out of their corner, much to their
chagrin, and there is a suspicion of a pout on the rosy lips of the former as
the three advance into the middle of the room.

Later on, when the gentlemen have come up, and tea and coffee have
been served, Doris, with much mystery, beckons Colonel Danvers over to
the little group consisting of herself, Honor, and the two Horton boys.

"You will be the 'old woman,' won't you?" gasps Doris excitedly. "You
would do it so beautifully. And you promised, you know, to do anything we
wanted; now, didn't you?"

"A very rash promise apparently. May I be permitted to inquire to what

'old woman' you are referring?"

"Why, the 'old woman' who lived in a shoe, to be sure. Honor and I have
talked it all over, and if we dress you up in one of nurse's gowns, with an
apron and cap, you will look lovely!"
 "Upon my word, I feel highly complimented. I hope I shall not be
considered inquisitive if I ask whether this old woman was considered
handsome or not? By the by," adds the colonel with a crestfallen look, and
stroking his moustache, "how shall I dispose of this commodity? You will
never be so despotic as to command me to cut it off, will you?"

Both the girls cry simultaneously "Oh, no, of course not!" and Hugh adds
reassuringly, "Oh, that's nothing; you can flatten it down easily with a little
cosmetic, and it won't show at all if you powder your face after."

"Very well, then. I will undertake to promise anything in that line if one
of you girls will consent to be in my custody with a view to receiving the
first whipping. Really," adds the colonel laughing, "I don't think the picture
will be half bad if there are plenty of children forthcoming and the shoe is
well managed. What are your plans concerning it, Hugh?" and the two
proceed to enter into a deep discussion relative to the height, depth, and
width thereof, when suddenly Honor and Doris are electrified by the sight of
Molly entering the room, arrayed in a white frock matching that which
Honor wears. Molly has a roll of music under her arm, and with the greatest
self-possession in the world she marches up to the grand piano and lays it
down. She then stands as if awaiting further orders, with flushed face, bright
sparkling eyes, and hair tumbling over her forehead and ears and curling
down upon her neck in rather wild but pretty confusion.

"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris aside to Honor, "what can it mean?"

"It is very plain to me what it means," replied Honor. "Didn't you see the
music she brought in with her? That music is yours, my dear,—your songs;
and mother has sent for Molly to play the accompaniments. So now you
can't escape."

"Well, I really call that mean of mother!" exclaims Doris. "Molly, why
weren't you in bed and asleep, you wretched child, like any other reasonable
being? then you couldn't have come down, you know."

"Mother sent me a message not long ago," replies Molly promptly, "to
say I was to get dressed and to look out some of your nicest songs, and come
down when I was sent for. So of course I was arrayed in my white frock,
with more speed than elegance, I'm afraid, for my sash is all awry, and I can't
reach round to do it for myself; and," she adds, lowering her voice
mysteriously, "I have actually come down in odd shoes. Look!" holding out
first one foot and then the other. "One rosette is nearly twice as large as the
other, and I verily believe one shoe is kid and the other patent leather! It is—
look! Then it is your shoe I caught up, Honor, and that accounts for it
pinching so horribly; why will you persist in having such small feet? Well, I
must take care not to show both feet at once, and then it will be all right—
they're both nice shoes of their kind."

"Why didn't you go back and change them?" inquires Doris turning over
the songs.

"I never knew they were odd until I was on the landing outside the door,
and Rankin, as soon as he saw me, threw the door wide open, so I couldn't
do anything but walk in and make the best of it."

"Doris, will you sing us something, dear?" says Mrs. Merivale from the
distance; and Doris, somewhat reassured by her feeling of complete
confidence in her young accompanist, resigns herself to her fate with a
tolerably good grace. Gounod's graceful little chanson 'Au Printemps' is the
first the girls select from the goodly pile which Molly has brought down, and
the effective accompaniment with the fresh young voice soon draw an
appreciative group round the piano. 'The Sands of Dee' is next placed upon
the stand by Colonel Danvers, and Molly, nothing loth, starts off at once
with the prelude without ever consulting Doris's inclination in the matter.
 DORIS SINGS "THE SANDS OF DEE."

One or two other songs quickly follow, and then some of the guests take
their leave, while one or two, Colonel Danvers and old Sir Peter being
amongst the number, go up and speak kindly to Molly, who, now that her
duties are over, is standing a little abstractedly by the piano, running her
fingers noiselessly up and down the keys.

"What a pity the Hortons had to leave so early," says the colonel to Molly.
"With you here to accompany so well we might have prevailed on Hugh to
sing. I do so like of all things to hear his tenor voice in 'Molly Bawn,' and
also the immortal 'Sally in our Alley.'"

"One would think he could sing nothing else," remarks Molly, "by the
way in which he persists in dosing us with those two, and especially the
former. I am always wanting him to learn others—there are such heaps of
pretty tenor songs—but it's no use; he will keep on with those and other old
ones. He says none of the new songs can hold a candle to them, but I don't
know—I believe it is laziness, really."

The example of the first departures being quickly followed by others, the
room is soon cleared of all the guests, save Sir Peter Beresford, who being
passionately fond of music, begs his hostess to allow Molly to sit up five
minutes longer that she may play him one more piece.

Mrs. Merivale looks doubtfully from Molly to the clock and then back
again.

"Well, sit down, Molly, and play something to Sir Peter—you know
which are his favourites,—then you must all three run away off to bed
instantly. Here is Doris yawning behind her fan, and Honor looks whiter than
her frock, if anything. I don't know what father will say, I am sure."

"O, let them stay a bit longer," says indulgent Mr. Merivale, and crossing
over to the piano he seats himself beside his three girls, and listens with no
little pride to Molly's musicianly playing. The piece ended, Mrs. Merivale
keeps to her word, and hardly allowing Sir Peter time to thank Doris and
Molly for the musical treat which he declares they have given him, she bids
her daughters say "good-night," and with a kiss to each, dismisses them.

CHAPTER III.

SHOPPING AND A REHEARSAL.

The next morning breaks dismally enough outside. The streets are thickly
carpeted with snow, which has fallen plenteously and almost without
cessation during the previous night. There is a deadened, muffled sound of
occasional traffic only in the usually busy streets, and even this is soon
drowned in the scrape, scrape of shovels with which armies of small boys
parade the quieter streets and terraces, wherein are the houses of the rich and
prosperous men of the large, smoke-begrimed manufacturing town, whilst
the fortunate occupants of these large fashionable mansions, who are still
curled up comfortably under warm eider-down quilts, are unpleasantly
roused to a consciousness of what awaits them by the loud persistent cries of
"Sweep yer doorway, ma'am,—doorway ma'am?"

Indoors things look somewhat more cheerful, especially at the Merivales,

who are an early-rising family. It still wants a few minutes to eight, but Doris
and Honor, true to habit, are already kneeling on the rug before the bright
fire, spreading their hands as near as they dare over the glowing coals, and
carrying on a spirited talk, which proves that the few hours' sleep of which
they have been deprived has not done them much harm. The door opens, and
enter Molly—yawning hopelessly, and it must be confessed looking haggard
and pale, with dark rings round her large blue eyes.

"Hallo, Moll! late hours don't evidently suit you, my dear. You do look an
object of pity, upon my word. Here, come to the fire and stop chattering your
teeth, for goodness' sake!"

Molly accepts the invitation and joins her sisters, and after a few minutes
Mr. Merivale comes in rubbing his hands briskly.

"Now, girls, let the old man see a bit of the fire! Ah! just eight," taking
out his watch and comparing it with the clock on the mantel-piece. "Good
girls, to be punctual after your late hours. Ring the bell, Honor; it's no use
waiting for your mother this morning. She has one of her bad headaches, and
I shouldn't wonder if she does not come down at all. She said she would
send word by Lane after prayers, so we need not wait now."

By this time the servants have filed into the room and taken their places;
and the old nurse having also appeared with her two particular charges,
Daisy and Bobby, Mr. Merivale takes his place at a side-table, and morning
prayers are commenced. Before leaving the room again nurse places the two
children in their usual places at the breakfast-table, and at the same moment
Lane steps forward from the row of servants, and going up to Honor says, "If
you please, Miss Honor, your ma says will you make breakfast this morning,
for her head is that bad she can't raise it from her pillow?"
 "Honor, of course!" and with a pout and a flounce Doris takes her usual
seat at the table, while Honor moves to the end opposite her father, who is
busily occupied in sorting the letters.

Breakfast is generally a quiet meal at No. 4 Lancaster Terrace, for Mr.

Merivale leaves the house at half-past nine punctually every morning in
order to be at the bank before it is opened to the public.

There is little or no conversation therefore this morning, the mother being

absent, and the six girls and boys take their breakfast in almost complete
silence, speaking, if at all, in low subdued voices which will not disturb their
father over his newspapers and letters.

Presently he puts these aside, however, and as he passes his cup up to be

refilled by Honor says, "Didn't I hear mother say Miss Denison was to return
to-day?"

"Yes, father," answers Doris. "Mother heard from her yesterday, and she
is to arrive by the 12.45 train."

"O, I wonder if mother will let us meet her," says Honor, looking up.

"Well, why not ask her?" says Mr. Merivale, rising from the table. "I don't
suppose she will be going out herself this morning, so you might take the
carriage in that case."

"O, that would be jolly!" cries Doris, jumping up and clapping her hands;
"and I tell you what, Honor, we'll try and get mother to let us have it all the
morning, then we shall get through no end of business. Father will ask her—
won't you, dear?"

"Not I, indeed; go and ask her yourself. Besides, it is time I was off—
there will be no one to open the safe, and then what will they do, eh?" and so
saying Mr. Merivale bustles into the hall, where William is standing waiting
to help his master into his overcoat, and snatching the Times from Honor's
hand, who, with Doris and Molly in her wake, has pursued him out on to the
steps, he makes his escape into the brougham which is waiting at the door.
 Doris and Honor hold a consultation on their way back to the dining-
room as to the pros and cons of their getting permission to use the carriage,
and on Doris promising to be spokeswoman, they both run up to their
mother's room.

"Mother, we want the carriage, Honor and I, to do our shopping, you

know. And father says if we are out we may as well take it on to the station
and meet Miss Denny; so we can, can't we, mother?" And Doris takes up one
of the slender white hands lying upon the coverlet, and softly pats and
strokes it between her own.

Mrs. Merivale shrinkingly turns her head away from her anxious young
daughter's appealing gaze, and closing her eyes says, "My dear Doris, you
might have a little more consideration for my nerves, I think. Here I am,
completely prostrated, and you rush into the room like an earthquake,
thinking of nothing but yourself. Do pray leave me alone, and, oh yes! you
can have both the carriages if you like, only leave me in peace; and Honor,
give me the Cologne, and then find Lane and send her to me. And do, all of
you, try to walk a little less like elephants than you generally do. Oh! pray
shut the door quietly."

The girls are quenched, and leave the room much more quietly than they
entered it.

"I hope to goodness I shall never have any nerves," says Doris pouting, as
she links her arm in Honor's. "Mother is fussy and cross this morning. I
believe she would like us all to sit perfectly mute through the livelong day
whenever she has one of her headaches. Now don't look shocked, Honor, my
girl! You know in your own heart of hearts you think so too, only you are too
good to say it, even to yourself. I often wonder what mother would do if
father were a poor man, and she had to make her own dresses, and do her
own hair, and we had the washing done at home. Ah! that would just suit
mother, wouldn't it? Fancy how delicious—a perpetual smell of washing!"

"Hush, dear!" says Honor gently, "you must not talk like that about
mother; she is delicate, of course, and you know what Miss Denison says
about the back being fitted to the burden."
 "O, that's all very well! but you know there are burdens clapped on
people's backs when they least expect it sometimes, at least so I've read in
books, so I don't altogether believe in that statement."

In half an hour's time the two girls, radiant and comfortable, with rugs,
foot-warmers, and muffs, are being whisked through the now slushy streets
by a pair of fresh young horses. A very delightful morning of shopping
follows, until Honor, looking at her watch, is startled to find that they have
only just time to get to the station to meet the train by which their governess
is travelling.

"Be quick, dear," she says to Doris, who is divided between the
conflicting beauties of two delicate chintzes, one of which is destined to
adorn the person of "Mary," of the perverse character, "or we shall not be
there before the train comes in, and then poor Miss Denny will think there's
no one there to meet her."

Honor's fears of being late are not without some foundation, they find, for
as they step on to the platform the train is already gliding into the station. A
hand is seen waving a recognition from one of the carriage windows, and as
Doris and Honor rush up to the door, a tall pleasant-looking woman steps
down, and is quickly being nearly stifled and smothered in the embraces of
her impetuous pupils.

"And now, girls," straightening her bonnet and then giving a hand to
each, "how are all at home?"

"O, all right!" replies Doris, promptly dismissing the subject; "and we
have no end to talk to you about. The theatricals will be a tre-men-dous
success. Honor and I have been shopping this morning; that's how it is we
have got the carriage. Mother had one of her headaches, you know, so she
couldn't come and meet you herself; and oh, isn't it splendid?—Colonel
Danvers is really going to be the old woman!"

"My dear Doris, how you do run on!" says Miss Denison, smiling down
at the bright face by her side. "A few moments ago you said all were well at
home, and now you say your mother has a bad headache. Now do let Honor
speak too, dear," she adds laughing, as Doris shows signs of starting off on a
fresh subject.

All chatting pleasantly together the drive home seems to be accomplished

in about half the usual time, and as soon as Miss Denison has been extricated
from the carriage, which, in addition to the three occupants, is filled almost
to overflowing with packages, she has to undergo a warm reception from
Molly and Dick, who are dancing a sort of Highland fling of expectation on
the door-step as the carriage drives up.

Then they all follow Miss Denison up to Mrs. Merivale's boudoir, where,
now almost recovered, she is languidly looking over her letters of the
morning.

"My dear Miss Denison," she says, holding out both hands as the
governess approaches her, "you can have no conception what an unspeakable
relief your return is to me. I thought I should have died sometimes with the
terrible racket these children have made. Their father doesn't seem to mind it
—indeed I really believe he likes it rather than otherwise; but oh, what my
poor nerves have gone through!" and Mrs. Merivale shudders and looks
round for her smelling-salts.

"What we shall do without you when you leave us for good I really don't
know," she continues. "Honor and Molly will have to go to school, I think.
Doris must stay at home, of course, if she is to come out next season. O, how
I wish Honor was the eldest!—she is so quiet and sensible compared to that
child there. It is all very well when I am quite well myself, but these
headaches completely prostrate me, and when they are all at home together it
is almost more than I can stand. Molly, do stop shuffling your feet!"

"I am sure, dear Mrs. Merivale, I would willingly have made my

engagement a longer one still," says Miss Denison sitting down close to her,
while Doris squeezes up to her side, Honor sits on a stool at their feet, and
Molly and Dick take up their position behind the sofa; "but Frank declares
he will wait no longer, saying—which is quite true, of course—that I have
put him off twice already. I should like to have finished Honor as well as
Doris, especially as I fear that young lady has not done me as much credit as
she might have done. Now, Honor is more studiously inclined, and so I think
is Molly."

"Now, I call it mean talking like that!" cries Doris pouting. "If I haven't a
natural taste for study it isn't my fault, and it's twice and three times as easy
for people to learn when they really like it, and not half so praiseworthy in
my opinion. Never mind," she adds, tossing her head, "I shall marry a duke;
and it won't matter then whether or not I can speak French, German, or
Italian!"

"O my stars, hark to that, Miss Denison!" exclaims Dick. "Why, my good
Doris, if you marry a duke you will have to go to court, you know; and
supposing the queen invited you to dinner, and she took it into her head
suddenly to have nothing but Chinese, or—or Fi-ji-an spoken all the time,
where would you be then, my girl?"

"Don't be absurd!" retorts Doris loftily; "and do let Miss Denny go on

with what she was saying."

But at this moment the gong sounds and there is a general move. A merry
and noisy meal is the luncheon to-day; Mr. Merivale, who has come home
unexpectedly, being himself one of the merriest of the party.

After much discussion and a few passages-at-arms between Doris, Molly,

and Dick, which are promptly suppressed, however, by Miss Denison, a
rehearsal is called for half-past six o'clock, after the school-room tea. A note,
in a somewhat sprawling masculine hand, is written and despatched by
Molly to command the presence of the five Horton boys at that hour; and as
the carpenter has pronounced the school-room to be most suitable for the
erection of a stage, the time before tea is devoted chiefly to the clearing of
all superfluous articles (of which there are not a few) away into cupboards
and ottomans, &c. Presently Hugh, Regy, Alick, Ted, and Joey Horton
arrive, and hard, steady rehearsal is the order of the evening until bed-time.
 CHAPTER IV.

HUGH'S MENTOR.

The time soon flies past, every one being in a whirl of excitement which
passes Mrs. Merivale's comprehension. But at last the day before that fixed
for the party arrives, and the house is in a perfect uproar from attic to
basement.

Mrs. Merivale has struck a bargain with the girls that, so long as they
undertake to keep everything in connection with the theatricals out of her
sight and hearing, she will promise to eschew all aches and pains, and take
into her own hands the entire management of the rest of the entertainment.
This is more in her line; and from little things the girls overhear from time to
time they feel satisfied as to their Christmas party being a success.

On the day in question the general excitement reaches a pitch which

defies description. Downstairs the cook has lately been reduced to a pitch of
frenzy by the constant demand for paste, glue-pots to be heated, flat-irons,
&c. To-day, however, she has struck against this, for has she not the supper
of the next night to prepare? So she has shut her kitchen doors, and
announced emphatically that under no pretext whatever will she open them
to any of the young ladies or gentlemen until the party is over. Mr. Merivale
is heard to declare that "there is not a place whereon to rest the sole of my
foot," for even his bedroom is not exempt (on this the last day) from litter of
various kinds. On one occasion, when sitting down for a few minutes' chat
with his wife, Doris, looking in to ask a question, suddenly rushes across the
room, and seizing her astonished parent by the lapels of his coat exclaims,
"O, father, you're sitting on my Queen of Hearts dress! and you must have
smashed the crown flat! O, how could you?"

There is to be a dress rehearsal this evening at half-past seven, and

Colonel and Mrs. Danvers are coming to dine quietly, so that the former can
enter upon his duties as stage-manager as well as practise his part of the "old
woman."
 It is about five o'clock, and Miss Denison and the young people are
seated at tea in the school-room, when Jane enters, and addressing herself to
Molly says rather mysteriously, "O, if you please, Miss Molly, Mr. Hugh is
down in the hall, and he wants to speak to you most particular for a minute. I
asked him to step into the drawing-room, but he said 'no,' nor he wouldn't
come up here neither."

"What can he want?" says Molly, rising from her chair; "may I go, Miss
Denny?"

Permission granted, down she runs and finds Hugh sitting disconsolately
on one of the hall chairs, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fixed
moodily upon the ceiling.

"What are you sitting there for like a hall-porter?" she cries with scant
ceremony; "and why couldn't you come upstairs like a reasonable being?
Why, what is the matter? You look as doleful as a crocodile!" And copying
the expression of his face to a nicety, she plants herself before the young
fellow and thrusts her hands into imaginary pockets. Then she suddenly
bursts into irrepressible laughter.

"Well, you needn't laugh at a fellow! You would look gloomy if after days
and days of work you found yourself in the same quandary as I am. It's the
shoe, that's what it is!"

"O, it's the shoe that pinches, is it?" and teasing Molly goes off into fresh
fits of laughter.

"Well, you needn't laugh! as I said before. The fact is I don't know how to
get it here: it is so large, you see. It's really a beautiful shoe, and will hold a
lot of youngsters, but the fact remains that I can't even get it out of the door
of my own room! What's to be done?" A pause. Then Hugh goes on, "You
see I want to get it in here while it is dark, because if anyone saw it being
taken in they would think we were all lunatics, naturally."

Molly rests her chin upon her hand and ponders deeply. "How many
pieces is it in?" she asks.

"Only three," mutters Hugh despondently.

 "Well, now," says Molly, "why can't you take it to pieces again? I will
help you, and it will be such fun lacing it all up again. We ought to have had
it made here, in the house; then there would have been no bother at all. As it
is, to take it to pieces is the only thing I can suggest. Shall I run and ask Miss
Denny if I may go in now with you, and then we shall get it put together
again in time for the rehearsal to-night?"

"Yes, do, and I will wait here. What a clever girl you are, Molly! I knew
you would think of a way out of the difficulty."

"Pooh!" says Molly. "That's nothing. It's you boys who are so helpless
without us girls to manage for you! I won't be a second;" and away she
bounds up the staircase.

In two or three minutes she reappears with a large piece of cake in one
hand. Tucking the other through Hugh's arm she remarks (rather
unintelligibly, her mouth being full of cake), "Miss Denny said I might, so I
drank my tea standing, and—oh, have a bit of cake, do! I have only begun it
on this side." Hugh with great gravity accepts the offer, Molly breaking off a
good-sized piece of the great slice; and this matter being satisfactorily
arranged, they quickly slip out of one door and in at the other. As they pass
through the hall a door opens, and a refined, gentle-looking woman of about
four or five and forty pauses on the threshold in surprise at the unexpected
sight of Molly under the escort of her son at that time of the evening.

"My dear boy," she says, "what are you doing with Molly? Why, do you
know that the child has no hat on, nor even a wrap of any kind?"

"I had a wrap, Mrs. Horton, but I have just thrown it off, and it was not
worth while to put anything on my head."

"O, if you have only just come from next door that is a different matter,"
says Mrs. Horton, reassured. "What has Hugh dragged you in here for now?"
she continues kindly while she puts one arm affectionately round the girl's
shoulders. "It is surely your tea-time now, dear, and it is too bad if he has
taken you away from that."

Hugh looks guilty, but Molly comes to the rescue for the second time.
 "O, I didn't mind, indeed, Mrs. Horton," she says. "Hugh was so
dreadfully put out about the shoe, you know, so I thought it best to come in
and see what we could do about it. He didn't ask me to come at all; I offered
to myself."

"I shouldn't have bothered Molly about it at all, mother," the young
fellow puts in; "but you see it is your 'at home' day, and I didn't know
whether every one had gone. And what to do about this blessed shoe I didn't
know, with the time running on so fast too; and I had promised to have it
ready for to-night's rehearsal. Molly's a dear good-natured girl, and I knew
she would find some way of managing."

"Well, Hugh, you know I would gladly have done anything I could for
you about it; but of course, as you say, I couldn't very well leave my guests.
Now, shall we go up and see what this tyrannical shoe requires?"

On reaching the large room upstairs which is devoted exclusively to the

use of the boys, they find all the other four engaged in different occupations,
more or less noisy. The babel of tongues ceases, however, at the sight of the
trio looking in upon them, and there is a general rush towards the door.
While Ted and Joey seize upon their mother, Regy and Alick dart at Molly,
and dragging her across the room to where a funereal-looking object is
reclining against the wall, they proceed to describe noisily the difficulties of
the case.

"I wanted it lowered out of the window!" cries Alick, determined to be

heard, "and hauled up again into yours. That would have been quite easy,
you know, and not half the fuss in my opinion."

"Who cares for your opinion, Alick?" says Regy contemptuously.

"No, but really," goes on the boy, not to be suppressed, "it will be an
awful shame to take it all to pieces. Why, I declare I never knew Hugh to
work at anything so hard before."

"Nor I," mutters Regy, glancing at his brother, who is leaning up against
the mantel-piece staring gloomily at the object of discussion.
 "Well, Molly knows best," he remarks decidedly, "so it's no use
discussing it any longer. Who's got a pair of sharp scissors or a knife or
something? Mother, you will help us take it to pieces, won't you?"

"And you and I and Colonel Danvers will soon have it together again
when once we get it in there," says Molly, jerking her head in the direction
of the next house. "O, good gracious, what's this?" she exclaims, as she trips
up over some hard object sticking out from under the shoe.

"Why, it's one of the supports—wood, you know," explains Ted, nodding
solemnly at Molly. "You weren't such a goose as to think cardboard would
stand up in that way alone, were you?"

"Where are your manners, Ted?" puts in Hugh. "Molly, did you hurt
yourself? Come round, and let me show you the whole concern."

The "whole concern" having been duly admired, and all its points of
beauty expatiated on, they all set to work, and in a very short time the shoe is
once more in three distinct pieces; and while the boys are busily taking the
laces out with elaborate care, Molly, thoroughly at home in the house, as
indeed are all the girls, strolls out of the room and down the passage to a
little room at the end—Hugh's private sanctum and study.

"Study, indeed!" thinks Molly to herself as she stands looking scornfully

round; for the room, it must be confessed, does not suggest the idea of any
very violent mental work going on within its four walls. Books there are in
plenty, certainly: good, substantial, solid reading too; but there they are,
comfortably reposing on their shelves, "looking," as Molly says to herself,
"as if they had not been touched for the last six weeks." She has just
marched up to the books in question, and is in the act of drawing her finger
along their dusty backs, when Hugh puts his head in at the door.

"Now, Miss Molly, what are you doing in my study?" he demands, "and
what are you turning up that elegant little nose about? Come, what's wrong,
eh?" And crossing over hastily, he reaches the girl's side just in time to see
her finish writing with her finger the word "dust" in large capital letters.
 "That is what is wrong," she says, turning round slowly and facing the
young fellow; "d-u-s-t, dust! A fine study indeed!" she continues, glancing
round contemptuously. "Look how painfully tidy the rest of the room is! My
goodness, you should just see our school-room when we are in the thick of
our lessons and really mean business! Doris and I get covered with ink, and
our hair gets all rumpled up, and sometimes we stick pens into it without
knowing. Honor knits her brows and frowns away like anything, and Miss
Denison's voice is several degrees more severe than usual. Oh, I assure you
we look tragic when we really are working! I should like to know, now,
what use it is your going to Sandhurst," she continues severely, "when you
never so much as open a book at home? Ah! you are a lazy fellow, Hugh;
and I don't believe you will ever pass all your exams. If you ever do get into
the army (which I very much doubt) it will be by the backdoor, I verily
believe."

"Why, what do you know about the backdoor, Molly?" exclaims Hugh,
bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"O, I know all about it," replies Molly, nodding gravely. "I heard father
talking about it to Colonel Danvers the other evening. Father was saying he
wondered how Cyril Harcourt got into the army. And Colonel Danvers said,
'Oh, he got in by the backdoor, you know.' So I asked father afterwards what
it meant, and he told me by getting into the militia first; and I thought to
myself, 'Ah! that's what Hugh will have to do.' And so you will, you know, if
you ever do get in, which, as I said before, I very much—"

"No, don't say it again," says the young fellow, putting his hand over
Molly's mouth. "I'll do anything in the world to please you, Molly, and I'll
work like—like fury, only don't pitch into me any more. Encourage me a bit
sometimes, and I shall do wonders yet. I daresay you could even help me
sometimes if you only would. I don't mean in the actual way of studying,
you know, though I believe you are a hundred times more clever than I am;
but I mean as to keeping me up to the mark, and all that sort of thing."

"Yes, that's all very well," says Molly, shaking her head. "I do try to do
that, I'm sure; but if you won't help yourself, I can't help you. And look here,
Hugh, it is all very well to say you will do it to please me; but what about
your mother, who I know worries dreadfully about you? It's downright
wicked of you, when you come to think of it. Upon my word it is."

"So it is, Molly. You are quite right, and I deserve every word you are
saying," says Hugh dejectedly.

"Now, will you make me a promise, like a dear, good boy?"

"Yes, that I will!" he cries with energy. "And what is more, I will keep it,
my wise little mentor."

"That is right, Hugh. Well, I won't say anything about to-morrow, of

course, because until that has come and gone I don't suppose we shall any of
us know whether we are on our heads or our heels. But will you promise me
that the next day you will really set to work—real hard work, such as other
young men do? Then you will soon make up for lost time, with your talents,
which it is perfectly sinful to throw away. You will very soon get used to it,
and after a bit it won't seem such a trouble to you to work. And look here,
Hugh," she adds, suddenly growing grave, and speaking in a whisper, "'Help
yourself, and God will help you,' you know. Now, will you promise me?"
And looking anxiously up into her companion's face, Molly holds out her
hand.

"I will, Molly; upon my word I will," replies Hugh earnestly. And taking
the girl's hand in both his own, he adds, "What a dear, good girl you are,
Molly, and how I wish I had a sister like you! Ah! never fear, I shall fire
away now and pass all my exams, in less than no time; and then you shall
see what I can do afterwards, Miss Molly!"

"O, yes!" says the girl, moving towards the door, "I have no fear for you
when once the studying is over; it is that which is the stumbling-block, eh?
But thanks so very, very much for your promise, dear Hugh. I consider your
exams, all as good as passed, now that I have that. Hark! there they are
calling us. All right—coming!" And away she darts down the passage, all
life and fun again.

Hugh follows, in time to see her pounced upon by all the four boys, who,
it seems, are in the midst of a violent dispute as to who shall have the honour
of carrying in the several portions of the shoe next door. At last the question
is settled, and the parts are carried with much caution and solemnity out of
the Hortons' house and into the Merivales' by the three elder boys, Molly,
escorted by Ted and little Joey bringing up the rear with the laces, &c.

"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris, whom they meet half-way up the

staircase, "what a time you have been! We are all ready; and Miss Denny,
and nurse, and Honor have been dressing up Colonel Danvers, and he looks
splendid!"

"Does he? All right! we shall not be two minutes in putting the shoe
together again; come along, boys!" And away scampers Molly up to the
school-room, closely followed by all the Hortons.

At last it is ready, and Colonel Danvers and Mr. Merivale, assisted by

most of the boys, hoist it up satisfactorily into its place.

As the colonel is looking somewhat embarrassed in his petticoats, shawl,

and big poke-bonnet, it is decided that the "old woman who lived in a shoe"
shall be rehearsed next. It is also settled that this picture shall be placed first
in the programme, instead of third as originally intended. This is partly
because Colonel Danvers declares he shall be consumed with nervousness
until his part is over, and he can once more appear in his own proper attire.

"You see, I am not used to petticoats and long gowns," he remarks

plaintively; "so please let us get that tableau over as early as possible!"

It being necessary to have everything in working order, the curtain is let

down, and in the first trial rests itself triumphantly at one end on a part of the
shoe, leaving a startling array of ankles and feet plainly visible to those
looking on.

This being remedied, great consternation is caused by the sudden

mysterious disappearance of Bobby. On search being made it is discovered
that the curtain in its first descent has knocked him over into the interior of
the shoe, from which strange, unearthly sounds are issuing. He is speedily
rescued, however, apparently none the worse for his sudden collapse, except
that his mouth, eyes, and hair are pretty freely filled with dust. Having,
however, been once more set upon his legs, he soon recovers from his
sneezing fit and joins in the laugh with the rest.

In the second trial all goes well, and the other pictures are duly rehearsed
according to their order on the programme. After a few hours' steady
practising they are one and all pronounced to be satisfactory by the audience,
which, though limited (consisting only of Mrs. Merivale, Mrs. Danvers, and
Mrs. Horton), is decidedly critical; and after a little light refreshment, for
which they all betake themselves to the dining-room, the party is dispersed,
the colonel in a devout state of thankfulness at feeling himself, as he
expresses it, a man once more.

CHAPTER V.

HUSBAND AND WIFE.

Mr. and Mrs. Merivale are still seated at the breakfast-table on the
morning of the 27th, the former deep in his newspaper, the latter taking
another glance through her letters. The children have already taken
themselves off some time, and with Miss Denison are busy upstairs putting
finishing touches to some of the costumes for the evening.

"Here is a letter from Sophia," presently remarks Mrs. Merivale to her

husband. "She proposes coming to us for a few days on her way back to
town when she leaves the Pagets; would you like— Why, James, what is the
matter?" and rising quickly from her chair she hurries round to his side,
startled by the ashy paleness which has suddenly overspread his face.

"No—no, it is—nothing!" gasps Mr. Merivale; but at the same moment

he drops the paper and presses his hand against his side with a little
smothered moan. Mrs. Merivale snatches up her salts (which are always at
hand) and holds them under her husband's nostrils, then hastily unscrewing
the other end of the pretty toy she deluges her handkerchief with eau de
Cologne, and bathes his forehead and temples until there is once more a little
colour in his face. "Thanks, dear," he says at last feebly. "I am all right again
now—it was only—a stitch—that's all! You need not look so frightened,
Mary, my dear. The pain was sharp while it lasted, but I am quite myself
now, indeed I am. Give me a little strong coffee, Mary; and perhaps I had
better have a spoonful of brandy in it."

"You must call and see Dr. Newton," says Mrs. Merivale as she busies
herself with the coffee; "and now do try and get home an hour or two earlier
to-day. I am sure there is no reason why you should not."

"Oh, but there is!" says Mr. Merivale, sipping his coffee. "That's just it.
Waymark has gone away for a few days, and I shall have double work until
he comes back, instead of being able to take things easily."

"How very provoking! What could he want to take a holiday for just
now? Surely it is an unheard-of time for a holiday."

"Yes, so it would be. But this is no holiday, I fancy, for I believe he said
something about an aunt being very ill and being summoned to see her; but
really I was so busy at the time I hardly noticed what he did say. I had called
him into my private room to show him a letter from Clayton & Co., who
have a large account with us, you know. It was merely advising us as a
matter of form that they would be withdrawing the bulk of their deposit on
the 30th instant, and as Waymark sees to all the books and that sort of thing,
I wanted him to have the letter of course; then it was that he told me he must
leave for a few days, said he was just coming in to tell me about it."

"Well, and what about the letter? didn't he see that this would give you
extra trouble?"

"Well, he didn't seem to concern himself much about that; which after his
bad news was natural, I suppose. But he said Mr. Hobson knew as much
about the books as himself, and that I need have no trouble about the matter,
as I could leave it all to him. He only looked in a moment after that to say
good-bye, and that very possibly he would be back himself by the 30th, in
time to give a look to the affair. So now you see, Mary, instead of sitting here
I ought to be hurrying off. Of course I shall get home as soon as ever I can,
for the children's sake as well as my own; but as to seeing the doctor to-day,
I can't promise. It will do very well in a day or two when I have more time.
It seems quite ridiculous to have made such a fuss about nothing, for I feel as
right as a trivet now."

"Nothing!" repeats Mrs. Merivale testily. "If you could have seen your
face as I saw it, James, you would not talk of 'nothing' in that manner.
Besides, you have had these stitches, as you call them, more than once lately,
and you ought to have advice. But there! you won't, of course. I never knew
any man so care-less about himself—never; and I might just as well talk to
the wind for any notice you take of what I say. O, dear me! was ever any
woman in this wide world tried and worried as I am?"

"Well, there, there, Mary; don't worry yourself about me," and Mr.
Merivale comes up to his wife and kisses her affectionately. "I promise you I
will go, only I cannot spare time for the next day or two. But the moment
Waymark comes back, we will go together if you like. Now, I can't say more
than that, can I?"

His wife looks somewhat consoled, and for her husband's sake she shakes
off the anxiety she really feels. With a once-more smiling face she helps him
on with his overcoat herself, and stands at the street door until the brougham
has driven away. There is not much time for thinking when she gets back
into the dining-room, for with a rush like a whirlwind the girls run down the
staircase and quickly surround her, each one proffering a different request.
Poor Mrs. Merivale! her hands go distractedly to her head at last, and
sinking into a chair she cries, "Oh, my dear girls, do run away and leave me
now! You promised not to worry me about the tableaux, and if you will
persist in doing so I shall be completely prostrated before the evening
comes, and then what will you do? You have got poor Miss Denison up there
slaving for you, and I am sure she is a host in herself. That's right, run away!
Oh, don't slam the door! Now, cook, what is it?" and with a sigh of
resignation the unfortunate lady gives her attention to the final arrangements
for the supper.
 CHAPTER VI.

TABLEAUX VIVANTS.

After a day of rush and bustle for every one in the house alike, the hour of
eight, at which the guests have been invited, at length arrives, and whilst
Mrs. Merivale receives them herself on the first staircase landing, a man-
servant conducts them to the school-room, where they are placed in their
seats by two maids dressed in neat black dresses and dainty little lace caps
and aprons. These damsels present each guest with the prettiest of
programmes, which sets forth a sufficiently attractive list of Tableaux
Vivants, finishing up with the information, "At the piano, Miss Denison and
Miss Mary Merivale."

These two are already seated at the piano, waiting with exemplary
patience for the signal to begin the overture. There have been extensive
practisings going on for some time between the two, and now the "ballet
music" from Gounod's "Faust" is spread open before them, and Molly is
leaning back in her chair gazing abstractedly at the curtain, while Miss
Denison is making futile efforts to shield one of the candles which shows a
disposition to gutter.

Suddenly the little bell is rung, rousing Molly from her reverie, and the
sweet strains of the above-mentioned music soon reduce the audience to a
state of quietude and attention.

Molly, thorough musician that she is, plays on with such rapt attention to
the music and naught else that a gradually increasing agitation of the curtain
at the nearest wing is entirely lost upon her. Quite forgetful of the fact that
she is bound to make a precipitate retreat the moment the final chord is
struck, in order to swell the number of the children belonging to the lady
who resided in the shoe, she plays on until she becomes aware of Miss
Denison's voice whispering in her ear "They are ready, Molly, and we must
hurry the end of this."

Still Molly only half catches the words, till suddenly Dick, reduced to
desperation, puts his head out from behind the curtain, and after making
frantic signs to cease, says in an audible whisper, "That's enough, Molly,
we're all ready and waiting for you."

This peremptory summons recalls the girl to the business of the evening,
and giving a quick nod of comprehension to her governess, they both hurry
through the few remaining bars, and finishing up with two or three banging,
crashing chords, as Molly puts it, she pushes back her chair and promptly
disappears.

There is only a delay of a few seconds before the little bell tinkles again,
and while Miss Denison plays a soft melody the curtain rises on the first
tableau.

Certainly "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe" was a great
success.

Colonel Danvers, arrayed in one of the nurse's cotton gowns, with a little
shawl pinned over his shoulders and a large poke-bonnet, looks the character
of the "old woman" to perfection, as with one hand he grasps Honor's arm
with a firm grip, whilst a formidable-looking birch is raised threateningly
over her with the other. The rest of the children are all seated round and
about the shoe in various attitudes; some half in and half out of it. All are
supplied with basins, popularly supposed to contain broth, and Molly, well to
the fore, with bare feet and rumpled head, is pausing in the act of carrying
her spoon to her mouth, with a distinct expression of "Will it be my turn
next?" in her wide-open blue eyes.

The curtain goes down amidst a storm of applause; and it being arranged
that no encores will be accepted, there is instantly a rush of pattering feet
across the stage, accompanied by much giggling and whispering, and then a
mysterious sound of pushing and dragging, which duly announces the
removal of the shoe.

Honor's "Mother Hubbard" comes next, and Molly once more takes her
place at the piano, her presence not being required again on the stage until
the end of the first part of the programme, where her much-dreaded part of
the "Maiden all forlorn" comes on. Molly is anything but happy in her mind
about this part of the programme, she having grave misgivings as to Hugh's
intentions in the matter.

"Look here, Hugh," she says, when his services not being in request
elsewhere he strolls into the room and hangs over the piano, nominally to
turn over the music, "I shall ask Colonel Danvers to make our picture
awfully short. I don't know, I'm sure, how you mean to manage about that
stupid kiss; but it is very certain you can't keep on kissing me all the time;
and another thing is, if you have your face so close to mine I know I shall be
tempted to bite you. I shouldn't be able to help it, I am sure."

"Well, I suppose I must risk that," laughs Hugh good-naturedly; "and I

don't suppose you would bite very hard either."

"O, wouldn't I though! my teeth are as sharp as anything. You have no

idea what they can do when they give their mind to a thing. Hush! here is
Doris's 'Mary, Mary.' Doesn't she look pretty?"

And so she does. A chintz with a green ground has carried the day,—
green being, Doris had declared, the colour best suited to Mary's contrariness
of nature. So green it is, even to the neat little high-heel shoes of which
Doris is not a little proud.

A miniature garden has been quickly improvised for this picture; and the
girl standing in the middle of it, with finger on pouting lip and a general air
of discontent and vexation, looks natural and well. Truth to tell, the pouting
expression is not altogether foreign to Doris's face; and while the audience is
thinking how well she has assumed the contrariness, Dick whispers to his
sister, "I say, Honor, Doris's pouting propensities have come in useful at last,
haven't they?"

There is only one more picture now before the end of the first part, so
Molly once more disappears, and is in time to help in placing Daisy in
position as "Miss Muffit," with her companion the spider, of which she feels
rather a wholesome dread. Unfortunately for her feelings, Regy, who has
manufactured it, has made one of the creature's legs a shade shorter than the
rest. The consequence is that, when the spider is standing, this short leg
dangles loosely and suggestively, inspiring poor Daisy with genuine terror.
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

testbankfan.com