A gasp of astonishment greeted their appearance, but when Peggy dragged her heavy train across the room, threw herself against the cushions in an attitude calculated to show off all the splendour of her attire, when she leant her pearl-decked head upon her hand, turned her eyes to the ceiling, and said, with a sigh as natural and easy as if they were her own words which she was using, and not those of the immortal Shakespeare himself, "'By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world!'"--then the Vicar broke into a loud "Hear! Hear!" of delight, and Mrs. Asplin seized the poker and banged uproarious applause upon the fender. For the first few minutes amazement and admiration held her dumb, but as the girls moved to and fro, and the details of their costumes became more apparent, she began to utter spasmodic cries of recognition, somewhat trying to the composure of the actors. Portia's description of her lovers was interrupted by a cry of "My table centres! The Turkish squares I bought at the Exhibition, and have never used! Wherever did they find them?" while a little later came another cry, as the identity of the plush train made itself known, "My _portière_ from the drawing-room door! My beautiful _portière_--with the nice new lining! Oh, dear, dear! it's dragging about all over the dirty carpet! Don't sit on it, dear! For pity's sake, don't sit on it!" "Mother!" cried Esther, in a deep tone of remonstrance; but Portia was unconscious of interruption. The other actors held their books in their hands, and, for the most part, read their speeches; but Peggy trusted entirely to memory, and sighed and yawned over the denunciation of her lovers, with evident satisfaction to herself as well as to the beholders. Nerissa read her part "conscientiously," as the newspapers would say, punctuating her sentences in exemplary fashion, and laying the emphasis upon the right words as directed by the stage manageress, but such is the contrariness of things that, with all her efforts, the effect was stiff and stifled, while Peggy drawled through her sentences, or gabbled them over at break-neck speed, used no emphasis at all or half-a-dozen running, at her own sweet will, and was so truly Portia that the Vicar wondered dreamily if he should have to interview the Duke of Morocco in his study, and Mrs. Asplin sighed unconsciously, and told herself that the child was too young to be troubled with lovers. She must not dream of accepting any one of them for several years to come! At the end of the scene, however, anxiety about her beloved _portière_ overpowered everything else in the mind of the Vicar's wife, and she rushed after the actors to call out eager instructions. "Hang it up at once, there's good children. If you put it down on a chair, Peggy will sit on it as sure as fate! And oh! My table centres! Put them back in the drawer if you love me! Wrap them up in the tissue paper as you found them!"