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Rh eye, and we both saw that that was the very thing: Mr. Angel was just made for Miss Peck! By what he said himself, as you see.

Although I think he was all right the first time, and should have said, is his buttons. The least one is: you can’t say, one are. But Connie says no, because you say three are one, when you mean the Trinity. Maybe you can disobey the rules of grammar for anything so important as the Trinity, but not for buttons, I don’t think.

Well, we told Ben about it, and of course she saw at once that it was the very thing. But we didn’t any of us see how it was to be accomplished, because it would never have entered their heads, of course, and in that way it was quite different from Norah and the vegetable man, who were madly in love with each other to begin with, and would certainly have died—at least Norah would—if something hadn’t been done.

But because a thing is hard never stopped Ben from doing it yet, and after she had thought for a while she suddenly remembered just how to manage. It was in a book of Pinky West’s. This is the part: “''It was done in the good old-fashioned way, which must have been ancient before Beatrice and Benedick were dreamed of. Somebody told her that he was head over ears in love with her, and somebody told him that she was really in a sad way on his account. It is unoriginal but very practical, and its success is merely a matter of time.''”

Ben never forgets little bits like that, which may come in useful later, and it is really surprising how anything you want to do you can find in a book. Even if you are sure you are the first to do it, you just probably haven’t happened to read the book it’s in, that’s all. Even Ben says that, and I should like to know the book she hasn’t read.

So that was the way to do it. Beatrice and Benedick are Shakespeare, which I am sure lots of people would read if they didn’t think they ought to. For a long time I thought it was like “Pilgrim’s Progress” and the Bible and “Ivanhoe,” all of which are very dull, but great. But if you read “Othello” once, you'll see. It’s really very exciting and quite true, I’m sure. It must be grand, when it’s all acted out.

And when you see how easily Beatrice and Benedick fell in love when they simply hated each other before, you will understand that it was nothing to make Miss Peck and Mr. Angell, because they didn’t hate each other at all: they just didn’t care. It was Connie who did the most of it, because she was anxious to reward Miss Peck for her kindness about the button. But it was Ben who thought up the things.

The first thing happened the next Thursday. Some of the old girls draw very well indeed, and every other week they draw some person or other, usually one of the girls, who sits on the platform. It is just like Trilby, in Paris, which is the finest book I ever read, except that they all wear clothes. Well, that Thursday the girl was sick that was going to pose, and there didn’t seem to be anybody that wasn’t busy, that could sit still enough. And Ben, who got in somehow, though she belonged in geography, looked out of the window and saw Miss Peck sitting on the side porch with a book in her hand.

“I think I know some one who could, Mr. Angell,” she said, “I don’t believe Miss Peck is busy. Would she do?”

I don’t believe he had ever heard of Miss Peck before in his life, or else he’d forgotten; because I’m sure he thought she was one of the girls.

“Why, certainly, by all means; thank you very much; it would be very nice, I’m sure, if you could find her,” he said, “might I trouble you ”

“Oh, it won’t trouble me at all,” says Ben. “I’ll get her,” and off she scoots.

Miss Peck was very much surprised when Ben told her that Mr. Angell wanted to know if she would pose for them as a particular favor to him, as of course she might be, especially if she knew anything about Mr. Angell and how he’d never dare say anything like that for a minute.

“Why, Benigna, are you sure that you understood?” she asked her; “he must have meant for me to overlook the class; I thought the girls posed for each other.”

“So they do,” says Ben, “as a usual thing, but he wants you especially, if you are willing to. He thinks you would make a beautiful picture!”

Now you'd think that that would please her to death, wouldn’t you? All the more as it wasn’t so. But it didn’t.

Ben says she looked at her so queerly and turned a kind of dark red, and said very strictly:

“Benigna, what does this mean?”