"I couldn't think of a word before all those people!" As the curtain drew slowly apart, she covered her face with her hands and sank back out of sight in the shrubbery.
The curtain-shifter had answered the signal of the prompter's bell, which at Miss Allison's direction was to be rung immediately after the last applause.

Neither knew of the dilemma.
A long-drawn "O-o-oh" greeted the beautiful tableau, and then there was a silence that made Miss Allison rise half-way in her seat, to see what had become of the interpreter.

Then she sank back again, for a clear, strong voice, not Miss Casey's, took up the story.
"And that day there was dole in Astolat.
Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, Oared by the dumb, went upward with the flood." [Illustration: "A LONG-DRAWN 'O-O-OH' GREETED THE BEAUTIFUL TABLEAU"] She did not know who had sprung to the rescue, but Joyce, who recognized Mary's voice, felt a thrill of pride that she was doing it so well.

It was better than Miss Casey's rendering, for it was without any professional frills and affectations; just the simple story told in the simplest way by one who felt to the fullest the beauty of the picture and the music of the poem.
The red lights flared up, and again the exclamation of pleasure swept through the audience, for Lloyd, lying on the black bier with her hair rippling down and the lily in her hand, might indeed have been the dead Elaine, so ethereal and fair she seemed in that soft glow.

Three times the curtains were parted, and even then the enthusiastic guests kept applauding.
There was a rush from the seats, and half a dozen admiring friends pushed between the curtains to offer congratulations.