"And o'er the hills and far away, Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Through all the world she followed him," chanted Anne like one inspired. Then she blushed and blushed as the astonished Launcelot and Judy praised her. "I never dreamed that you knew so much poetry," cried Launcelot, seeing her in a new and more respectful light. "Oh, it just sings itself," said Anne. "When you read it a few times you can't help reciting it." "But I am not going to be the only one," said Judy. "What part will you take, Anne?" "I don't know." "Who's your favorite heroine in Tennyson, Anne?" asked Launcelot. "Elaine." "Then Elaine it shall be--" "And you must be Lancelot," cried Anne, eagerly. "But he _is_ Launcelot," said puzzled Judy. Anne and Launcelot laughed. "Well, you see," said Anne, "in the poem Elaine is in love with a knight named Lancelot, and he doesn't love her, and she dies, and when she is dead they put her on a barge and send her to the court of King Arthur, where Lancelot is one of the knights, and there is a letter to him in her hand, and a lily, and it's lovely," she finished breathlessly. "We shall have a hard time to build a barge," said Launcelot, with a shake of his head. "But we must have that scene, Launcelot," insisted Anne. "Never mind," said Judy, who believed that all difficulties could be surmounted in this line, "we will find something. How many pictures shall we have for 'Elaine,' Anne?" "We could have her giving him the 'red sleeve broider'd with pearls,' and then we could have him ill in the cave, and the scene in the garden, and at her window when he rides away, and then on the barge." "We'll have to outline the story," said Launcelot; "the poem would be too long." "But we could get in some of it, like the little song about Love and Death," said Anne, anxiously, for being too young to know tragedy or love, she was yet enamoured by that which was beyond her comprehension. It took all the next day for them to get things ready, but everything went beautifully. Dr. Grennel promised to read the poems. Perkins, though depressed at the prospect of more undignified gayety, gave permission to use the dining-room for the tableaux, and the little grandmother promised to spend all of Saturday with the Judge and his sister, thus giving Anne a crowning delight. And then, at the last minute, Anne spoiled everything! "I can't bear to think of poor Miss Mary," she sobbed, late on Saturday morning, when Judy found her crouched up in the window-seat overlooking the garden. "What?" "I can't bear to think about poor Miss Mary," repeated Anne, dabbing her eyes with her wet handkerchief. "What's the matter?" asked Launcelot, as Judy stood speechless. He was outside of the window, where he was helping Perkins place the tables and arrange the chairs in the garden. Anne's woebegone face bobbed up over the window-sill.