It was all very well for Amadis de Gaul and Don Quixote not to mind the rain; they had iron overcoats, and were not, from all we can learn, subject to croup and the guidance of their grandfathers.

Our case was different.
"Now, boys, what shall we do ?" I asked, addressing a thoughtful conclave of seven, assembled in our barn one dismal rainy afternoon.
"Let's have a theatre," suggested Binny Wallace.
The very thing! But where?
The loft of the stable was ready to burst with hay provided for Gypsy, but the long room over the carriage-house was unoccupied.

The place of all places! My managerial eye saw at a glance its capabilities for a theatre.

I had been to the play a great many times in New Orleans, and was wise in matters pertaining to the drama.

So here, in due time, was set up some extraordinary scenery of my own painting.