After dinner there was a most fascinating hour. Mr. Ludlow whispered to Milly, and then she came up to me in the parlor, saying that we were all to slip up to the attic, where they were rehearsing a little play intended for a surprise to Cousin Mary and Cousin Henry on their wedding anniversary. The elder sisters, Kate and Mary, were in it as well, and we found them in the attic, lighting it up, and putting away some of the costumes. That attic seemed to me a wonderful place: it extended over the entire house, and the roof was higher than in most attics, for it had been built with a view to being a play-room, long ago, when Kate and Mary Ludlow were small. At one end a temporary stage was erected, and preparations made for the curtains at either side and in front. All the final work was to be done the day before the performance. As soon as we were in the attic, Mr. Ludlow suggested that some part should be found for me. Kate Ludlow had written the play, and there was a part adapted specially for each person; but she very good-naturedly told her uncle (young as he was, he was her uncle) that she would insert something for me. I was fluttered with delight, and had sufficient confidence in myself to feel sure it would be an easy matter to perform with credit to all concerned. The story of the play was a domestic one. Kate introduced a part for me with Jessie Price--a dialogue between two friends of the heroine, rather artfully contrived to give me something to do, and at the same time work out the plot. Jessie acted very badly, so that my awkwardness showed the less, and I was rather well satisfied with the prospect, and wildly delighted by the idea of wearing one of Kate's longest silk gowns, and a white bonnet with a yellow bird in it.