Leila, from the moment of entering the house, had been working herself up, and struggling against comfort; but comfort, in the shape of such a Christmas party as this, who could resist? She quickly gave herself up to all its happy influences, and when her papa led her into the adjoining breakfast-room, which was small, and leading into a spacious conservatory, she was in ecstasies. “My birds, my birds,” she exclaimed, “my turtle-doves, my parrots, how they will enjoy it. They will think this more beautiful than their green parlour.” All was sunshine to her again; it was a moment of exquisite happiness, such happiness as is only to be felt in very early life, before the sad memories of the past, “and the shadows of coming evils, have dimmed its brightness.” The young people returned home in high spirits; Leila forgetting every care in the remembrance of the beautiful conservatory, and in the anticipation of the enjoyment of her birds in taking possession of it; and Matilda far too much excited to allow any of them to rest, even for a moment. “Come,” she said, “we will act a play now;” and flying into the passage, she seized her papa’s hat, placed it on one side on her head, tied over her dress a green linen pinafore of Alfred’s to imitate a blouse, and returning into the room, “Now,” she said, “I will be Bill; you, Cousin Leila, are to be talking very gravely with Selina, consulting her how you are to order the dinner at Woodlands when I come up to you; and you, Alfred, are to be the pit, and stamp with your feet, and call out very loud.” “But why,” Leila exclaimed, “should poor Alfred be in the pit? I don’t like that, it puts me in mind of such melancholy things,--Joseph and his wicked brothers, you know,--and he called out and they would not listen; and the cruel thing we did ourselves; we put the poor goats into the pit; but papa said that was a necessary evil.” Matilda laughed: “You are so odd,” she said; “it is not that sort of a pit at all. I never saw it myself, but Lydia told me about it,--it is a place where all the gentlemen sit in rows to see the play, and they stamp very loud with their feet, and call out encore; encore means--say it again; don’t forget that, Alfred.” Leila was quite relieved and satisfied, and the play proceeded; and so admirably did Matilda imitate Bill’s voice and manner, and so complete was the picture when she drew off the hat, and stood with a face of mute dismay before them, that Selina and Leila were convulsed with laughter; as to little Alfred, he stamped so loud, and called _encore_ so often, that even Matilda, with all her love of amusement, was fairly exhausted.