A very mixed audience filled to overflowing the town-hall of Montfield. In the front-seats, which had been cleverly reserved for them by a small advance in price, were seated the Élite of the village, complacently chatting together of the weather, the exhibition, their servants, and such small gossip as serves to savor the somewhat insipid existence of a country village. Behind these sat the farmers with their wives and daughters; the former regarding the curtain with a species of awe, while the latter indulged in clumsy flirtations with the rustic swains, who offered them delicate attentions in the shape of lozenges and peanuts. The talk here among the elders was chiefly of the crops and of cattle; while the youths and maidens speculated, giggling, upon the prospects of a dancing-school for the winter.

The relatives of the performers were chiefly in the reserved seats, and exhibited more or less nervousness according to their temperaments; all alike, however, endeavoring the most preternatural semblance of indifference.

"I have half regretted," Miss Tabitha Mullen remarked to Dr. Sanford, next whom she chanced to be seated, "that I allowed Ease to take part in this. It scarcely seems the thing with such a mixed audience. But all her associates were concerned in it, and I did not wish to seem over particular."

"You mustn't be too strict with Ease," Mrs. Sanford began to reply for her husband, when the tinkling of a bell announced the rise of the curtain, and she left her remark unfinished.

The young people of Montfield were accustomed at intervals to give theatrical performances, finding this the easiest method of raising funds for charitable purposes. They had accumulated quite a respectable collection of scenery and stage-properties, all more or less primitive, but answering sufficiently well for their purposes. "The Faithful Jewess" required chiefly forest scenery; and of this they possessed quite a variety, amateur talent being apt to run to the rustic drama. The tragedy proceeded smoothly enough, the back-seats understanding little of it, but liking it rather better on that account, besides being amused by the costumes and the high-sounding blank verse. Mr. Putnam was certainly not an accomplished actor; but of a part like that of the patriarch he made as much as the character would admit. The scenes between himself and Patty were really impressive, and won the admiration even of Miss Mullen, who prided herself upon her taste, and was nothing unless critical.

It is probable that both actors played the better for the presence of a deep feeling towards each other. The lawyer was conscious of a thrill whenever his hand touched hers; and, if Patience was less moved, it was because she was more truly an actor, and more completely identified with her part.

At the later rehearsals the young lady had ignored the presence of any misunderstanding between herself and her lover, and had been outwardly her usual self, bright and gay. She had avoided any approach to sentiment, alike with Toxteth and with Putnam. She had given herself up to the arrangements for the exhibition, attending to those thousand details of which no one else ever thought. She enjoyed the excitement, and that most seductive of all forms of flattery, the self-consciousness of being a motive-power and a leader. She had put aside every thing else to be thought of and met after this evening; and the feverish excitement arising from this undercurrent of feeling buoyed her up to-night.

Her dress, setting off her fine form to advantage, was in color and arrangement admirably adapted to her beauty, and never had she looked so superbly handsome. No wonder that to-night her lovers were more deeply enamoured than ever.

Among her lovers, be it said here, was no longer to be numbered Burleigh Blood. The transfer of his allegiance to Flossy Plant, which Patty had first attempted in half-jest, had become deep earnest; and the giant was the humble slave of the little lady he might almost have balanced upon his extended palm.

"The Faithful Jewess," with its "ring-round-rosy" situations, its harrowing dialogue, and long-winded soliloquies, at last reached its tragic climax. The actors strung themselves before the curtain in answer to the vigorous applause of hands horny with holding the plough, and then retired to the dressing-rooms to prepare for "The Country Wooing." The Montfield orchestra, under the lead of old Gustave Harlakenden, the German shoemaker, plunged precipitately into the mazes of a wonderful pot-pourri of popular melodies; while the audience rustled and buzzed.

Tom Putnam, who was not in the cast for the second play, having resumed his ordinary clothing, emerged from his dressing-room just as Miss Sturtevant came from hers, costumed for "The Country Wooing."

"I must congratulate you," she said, "upon the decided hit you made in 'The Jewess.' You took the house by storm."

"Thank you," returned Tom. "You attribute to me the honor which was due to the ladies in the piece."

"It is very modest of you to say so," Flora smiled; "but you undervalue your own acting. I wonder if you will think me rude and presuming, if I make a request."

"Ladies are supposed never to be either," he answered.

"How satirical! I am afraid to ask you. But I will. Will it be too much to ask you to walk home with me to-night? I go to-morrow, and I want you to take those books I borrowed. I should have returned them before."

"Certainly I will," replied he. "I did not know you went so soon."

"I waited for these theatricals," she said. "My half-sister is to be married next week, and I ought to have gone before."

They had by this time reached the end of the stage, which served as a sort of green-room. Here direst confusion reigned. Burleigh Blood had made the dreadful announcement that the excitement had driven his part entirely out of his mind.

A dozen voices proffered in consternation several dozen suggestions at once.

"Never mind," Flossy said. "Make up something: nobody will know."

"But the cues?" exclaimed Miss Sturtevant in dismay.

"Oh, dear! I wish I were at home!" cried Dessie Farnum, almost in tears.

"I never could make up any thing," Burleigh said in despair. "I was a fool to take the part anyway!"

"You'll have to trust to the prompter," Patty said. "There's no help for it now. You are not in the first scene, and can look it over."

"Or hunt up your wits," added Emily Purdy.

"Are you ready?" Patty asked. "Ring up."

The bell sounded, bringing the orchestra to so sudden a stop, that one out of sight might have supposed an immense extinguisher suddenly clapped over it.

"Don't bother," Flossy said consolingly to Burleigh as he stood in the wing, vainly endeavoring to follow the advice of Patty. "If you forget, I'll prompt you. I know the whole of your part and mine too."

Had he known that few mortals were more liable to stage-fright than Flossy herself, he might have been less comforted: as it was, he placed implicit confidence in her ability, and this gave him sufficient self-control to fix for a little his attention upon his book. The next moment, in some way, without any exact knowledge of how he got there, he found himself upon the stage, and the other players one by one going away, and leaving him in the full gaze of that sea of faces. He longed to catch them and hold them back, as each slipped into the friendly obscurity of the wings; but he stood stiff and helpless alone upon the stage with Flossy. The scene which ensued was as follows, the italics indicating what was said in a tone inaudible to the audience.

Flossy (as Waitstill Eastman). "Won't you sit down, Jonathan? You say I don't mind if I do."

Burleigh (as Jonathan Cowboy). "You say I—I don't mind if I do."

F. "Why don't you then? I'm goin' to."

B. "I'm goin' to."

F. "Don't hold your arms so stiff! So is Christmas coming. You needn't, though, if you don't want to. (Sits.) I mean to make myself comfortable. I was waiting for you to sit down."

B. "For me to sit down?"

F. "Say that!"

B. "For me to sit down."

F. "Sit down!"

B. "Sit"—

F. "Goodness! Don't say that! Your chair don't seem easy, somehow. Maybe the floor ain't even over there. I'll move it over there, then."

B. "I'll move it, then."

F. "Move nearer to me. Don't come any nearer me!"

B. "Which shall I do?"

F. "Move up! You'd better keep your distance! Move up! Yes, miss."

B. "Yes, miss."

F. "Keep moving nearer. Now get out, Jack Cowboy! Now don't"—

B. "I know it. Now don't be cross, Waitstill. It ain't often a feller has a chance to come and see you."

And, having thus got fairly launched, Burleigh recalled his lines, which he had faithfully committed, and went smoothly on to the end. Flossy had occasionally to direct his actions, for he fixed his attention so firmly upon the words, that his tendency was to repeat them like a parrot; but between them they came through safe. And, as Flossy had once jokingly predicted, her friend's awkwardness passed for clever acting, so that his success was so great as to astonish every one, particularly himself.