wet.
The golden-haired girl came up to her and said, “Such a dreadful night to start out! I hope it isn’t a bad omen.”
Fanny gave the girl a worried look. ““Don’t say such things.”
“It isn’t pleasant!” Nancy insisted.
“I know,” Fanny said bleakly, wishing David would return. She disliked being parted from him under these conditions. She couldn’t understand why she had so suddenly come to depend on him so much more than in the past. She did not wish to be dependent on anyone. It bothered her.
The next to arrive was Peter Cortez wearing a wide-brimmed rubber hat and black rubber raincoat. He put down his bags and told them, “The storm can’t touch me. I used this outfit in California. It can really rain out there! This is a mere drizzlel”
She was about to make a reply but this became useless as the train came up to the platform with a great hissing of steam and clamor of the engines. Soot filled the air as the train slid to a stop and a mustached conductor stepped down from the first passenger car followed by a brakeman. Many of the forlorn gathering on the dank wooden platform made their way to one or other of the passenger cars and got aboard.
David came hurrying back in the light coat which also served as a raincoat. He took her by the arm and shouted above the noise, “We are in the first car.” And he led her to the steps of that ear.
Most of the others in the company also boarded that car. The train was a local and would make stops along the way. Thus the journey to Philadelphia would take about three hours.
Peter Cortez and Nancy Ray took the seat opposite Fanny and David. Peter curled his lip and said, “Bloody milk train! Stopping in every little town! A wonder Barnum didn’t send us in a cattle car!”
David smiled grimly. “On a night like this is wouldn’t make much difference.”
“I know what I’m going to do,” the pert Nancy said. “I’m going to sleep.” And she curled up on the seat and snuggled against Peter, clasping his arm in her hands and leaning against his shoulder.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Will no one protect me from this vixen?” But he made no show of moving her and relaxed himself.
David was frowning at a statement which P.T. Barnum had given him. He told Fanny, “There are some omissions in this list of scenery.”
“Perhaps the missing sets will turn up at the theatre,” she said, to encourage him.
“We’ll be in trouble if they don’t,” he sighed. And glancing at Nancy he turned to her and suggested, “Why don’t you try to sleep a little?”
“I think I will,” she said. “I hope it won’t be raining when we get to Philadelphia.”
Peter Cortez opened his eyes to inform her in a superior drawl, “Dear girl, it is always raining in Philadelphia. Has no one warned you?”
She laughed and leaned back and closed her eyes. She knew she should be happy. She and David were on their way to open their first engagement in America. It ought to be a time of anticipation and excitement. But once again that strange shadow of depression had reached out to overwhelm her. She felt grim despair and didn’t know why.
The train started with a jerking motion and then moved along, gradually gathering speed. The pounding of the wheels on the rails and the slight motion of the car helped send her into a light sleep. She slept until some time later when the train stopped suddenly and wakened her. It woke up all the others, who began complaining.
David consulted his pocket watch. “Another hour should see us in,” he said.
Nancy Ray looked indignant. “I’m cold and hungry.”
Peter Cortez shook his head and stared gloomily out the train window into the dark, wet night. “Why did I pick this profession?” he wanted to know.
The train started off again with another jerk. She sat back and stared out the window in the same dismal contemplation as
The golden-haired girl came up to her and said, “Such a dreadful night to start out! I hope it isn’t a bad omen.”
Fanny gave the girl a worried look. ““Don’t say such things.”
“It isn’t pleasant!” Nancy insisted.
“I know,” Fanny said bleakly, wishing David would return. She disliked being parted from him under these conditions. She couldn’t understand why she had so suddenly come to depend on him so much more than in the past. She did not wish to be dependent on anyone. It bothered her.
The next to arrive was Peter Cortez wearing a wide-brimmed rubber hat and black rubber raincoat. He put down his bags and told them, “The storm can’t touch me. I used this outfit in California. It can really rain out there! This is a mere drizzlel”
She was about to make a reply but this became useless as the train came up to the platform with a great hissing of steam and clamor of the engines. Soot filled the air as the train slid to a stop and a mustached conductor stepped down from the first passenger car followed by a brakeman. Many of the forlorn gathering on the dank wooden platform made their way to one or other of the passenger cars and got aboard.
David came hurrying back in the light coat which also served as a raincoat. He took her by the arm and shouted above the noise, “We are in the first car.” And he led her to the steps of that ear.
Most of the others in the company also boarded that car. The train was a local and would make stops along the way. Thus the journey to Philadelphia would take about three hours.
Peter Cortez and Nancy Ray took the seat opposite Fanny and David. Peter curled his lip and said, “Bloody milk train! Stopping in every little town! A wonder Barnum didn’t send us in a cattle car!”
David smiled grimly. “On a night like this is wouldn’t make much difference.”
“I know what I’m going to do,” the pert Nancy said. “I’m going to sleep.” And she curled up on the seat and snuggled against Peter, clasping his arm in her hands and leaning against his shoulder.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Will no one protect me from this vixen?” But he made no show of moving her and relaxed himself.
David was frowning at a statement which P.T. Barnum had given him. He told Fanny, “There are some omissions in this list of scenery.”
“Perhaps the missing sets will turn up at the theatre,” she said, to encourage him.
“We’ll be in trouble if they don’t,” he sighed. And glancing at Nancy he turned to her and suggested, “Why don’t you try to sleep a little?”
“I think I will,” she said. “I hope it won’t be raining when we get to Philadelphia.”
Peter Cortez opened his eyes to inform her in a superior drawl, “Dear girl, it is always raining in Philadelphia. Has no one warned you?”
She laughed and leaned back and closed her eyes. She knew she should be happy. She and David were on their way to open their first engagement in America. It ought to be a time of anticipation and excitement. But once again that strange shadow of depression had reached out to overwhelm her. She felt grim despair and didn’t know why.
The train started with a jerking motion and then moved along, gradually gathering speed. The pounding of the wheels on the rails and the slight motion of the car helped send her into a light sleep. She slept until some time later when the train stopped suddenly and wakened her. It woke up all the others, who began complaining.
David consulted his pocket watch. “Another hour should see us in,” he said.
Nancy Ray looked indignant. “I’m cold and hungry.”
Peter Cortez shook his head and stared gloomily out the train window into the dark, wet night. “Why did I pick this profession?” he wanted to know.
The train started off again with another jerk. She sat back and stared out the window in the same dismal contemplation as
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