This was considered the great scene of the evening, though Elizabeth Eliza was sure she did not know what to do,--whether to kneel or sit down; she did not know whether Turkish women did sit down, and she could not help laughing whenever she looked at Solomon John. He, however, kept his solemnity. “I suppose I need not say much,” he had said, “for I shall be the ‘Turk who was dreaming of the hour.’” But he did order the little boys to bring sherbet, and when they brought it without ice insisted they must have their heads cut off, and Ann Maria fainted, and the scene closed. “What are we to do now?” asked John Osborne, warming up to the occasion. “We must have an ‘inn’ scene,” said Elizabeth Eliza, consulting her letter; “two inns, if we can.” “We will have some travellers disgusted with one inn, and going to another,” said John Osborne. “Now is the time for the bandboxes,” said Solomon John, who, since his Turk scene was over, could give his attention to the rest of the charade. Elizabeth Eliza and Ann Maria went on as rival hostesses, trying to draw Solomon John, Agamemnon, and John Osborne into their several inns. The little boys carried valises, hand-bags, umbrellas, and bandboxes. Bandbox after bandbox appeared, and when Agamemnon sat down upon his the applause was immense. At last the curtain fell. “Now for the whole,” said John Osborne, as he made his way off the stage over a heap of umbrellas. “I can’t think why the lady from Philadelphia did not send me the whole,” said Elizabeth Eliza, musing over the letter. “Listen, they are guessing,” said John Osborne. “‘D-ice-box.’ I don’t wonder they get it wrong.” “But we know it can’t be that!” exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza, in agony. “How can we act the whole if we don’t know it ourselves?” “Oh, I see it!” said Ann Maria, clapping her hands. “Get your whole family in for the last scene.” Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were summoned to the stage, and formed the background, standing on stools; in front were Agamemnon and Solomon John, leaving room for Elizabeth Eliza between; a little in advance, and in front of all, half kneeling, were the little boys, in their india-rubber boots. The audience rose to an exclamation of delight, “The Peterkins!” “P-Turk-Inns!” It was not until this moment that Elizabeth Eliza guessed the whole. “What a tableau!” exclaimed Mr. Bromwick; “the Peterkin family guessing their own charade.” THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE. AGAMEMNON had long felt it an impropriety to live in a house that was called a “semi-detached” house, when there was no other “semi” to it. It had always remained wholly detached, as the owner had never built the other half. Mrs. Peterkin felt this was not a sufficient reason for undertaking the terrible process of a move to another house, when they were fully satisfied with the one they were in.