“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 one so nicely! and grandpapa has said we may.” Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. “Ah, well! you always will have your own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things in my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when their elders had once said, ‘No.’” “Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it up if you did; but pray do not--we will manage very well.” “And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn everything upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can’t have it done. I shall want the study to put out the supper in.” “We can dress in our own rooms, then,” said Beatrice, “never mind that.” “Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your fathers and mothers like to let you, I can’t help it--that’s all I have to say,” said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred entered from the other side a moment after. “Victory, victory, my dear Fred!” cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. “I have prevailed: you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever! announced for Monday night, before a select audience!” “Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee,” said Fred; “why Alex has just been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma’s dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone ‘coon, as they say in America.” “I got grandpapa first,” said Beatrice, “and then I persuaded her; she told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long lecture which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last that the chief points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the confusion in the study; so by giving up those two I gained everything.”