hatever. She is so gentle and so placid. She was always something of a knitter, and, like all essential knitters, given to sitting a little outside of life; but since the war broke out she has knitted practically without ceasing; and who would dream of going to a knitter for stage effects?
Therefore we were astonished when, in talking over the projected Saturday night's entertainment, Aunt Louisa ventured the statement that she had thought out a scheme for a little interlude, and might she be permitted to carry it out? Just a mere fill up, but topical, or possibly even more than topical--prophetic.
Of course she might.
"Is it a tableau?" our stage manager inquired.
"No, I shouldn't call it a tableau," said Aunt Louisa; "I should call it a song scena."
How on earth did she hear that phrase? She never goes to music-halls. I would as soon expect to hear her speak of "featuring."
"A song scena," she went on, "the hero of which is the KAISER; and I shall want half-a-dozen