since noon.”
“That’s only twice.”
“Including noon. Three times. Let’s go, we’ll just make it before the curtain rises.”
“I hope there will be room for all of us. This is Esther.”
Mr Rufus blinked as if, with no eyes for anything but Rosabelle, he had not even noticed the other girl’s presence. “How do you do, Miss Esther,” he said courteously, and offered each an arm. “I’m glad you have come with Miss Rosabelle. I’ve warned her against walking about here alone.”
Throwing a scared look around her, Esther grasped his sleeve as if it were her only chance of safety and scurried alongside. He gave her a kind but dismissive smile, then turned to Rosabelle.
“I trust they have not mangled the play too badly. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes. My mother is not interested in the theatre, but Papa is a devotee of Shakespeare’s works. He has taken me to every new production since I was quite small. This is one of my favourites.”
“There’s no knowing what they have made of it,” he cautioned. “Not only are the actors puppets, it has been cut to less than an hour, remember.”
“I hope they’ve kept all the funniest bits,” Rosabelle said. She felt in need of cheering up. The joy of being with him was overshadowed by the coming parting.
As if he read her mind, there was a sadness behind his smile. “I believe you can count on that. I’ve strolled past the tent twice today, and each time I heard great merriment. Here we are.” He freed his arm from Esther’s grip and reached into his pocket.
Hearing the jingle of coins, Rosabelle said quickly, “I’m paying for this,” as she loosened the strings of her reticule.
“Let me treat you.”
She didn’t want to hurt his pride, yet she could not let him spend his meagre wages on her. “I might,” she said in a low voice, “but I cannot allow you to pay for Esther. And it will look...most particular if I pay for her and you pay for me.”
“‘Urry up, ladies an’ gent! Show’s beginning.”
“As you will,” said Mr Rufus resignedly, “but I pay for myself.”
The doorman accepted their shillings impartially, and they went in.
They found seats on a bench to one side, with a good view of the stage. Rosabelle sat between Esther and Mr Rufus. Though the tent was not really full enough to justify the way his elbow pressed against hers, she made no attempt to move away. Soon enough, his touch would be no more than a painful but precious memory.
Thank heaven the marionettes were not to perform Romeo and Juliet. Rosabelle could not have kept her composure through that tragic romance. She was not sure she’d be able to laugh at the comedy ahead, no matter how well done.
It was very well done. The puppeteers’s version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream concentrated on Bottom’s adventures. Rosabelle simply could not help laughing, especially as Esther lost all her diffidence and chortled like a gleeful child at the antics on stage. Mr Rufus’s mirth was transmitted to Rosabelle as much through the contact between them as by sound. His ribs must be aching with laughter.
At the end, they all emerged into daylight with tears of merriment in their eyes.
“Oh, Miss Ros,” Esther gasped, “I never seen anything like it in all my born days. I can’t wait to tell Mam all about it.”
“Hot chocolate all round first,” said Mr Rufus, “before you go anywhere. My treat,” he added with a meaningful glance at Rosabelle.
“I’d like to bathe my feet in hot chocolate,” she said with a smile of acquiescence. “They are two blocks of ice. The show was so funny I didn’t even feel them freezing till now.”
“I expect they quickly went numb. We’ll go in and sit by the oven and you’ll soon thaw.”
The word thaw sobered both of them. Esther did not notice, prattling away as she rehearsed the tale she’d tell her mother about flying fairies, the man with an
“That’s only twice.”
“Including noon. Three times. Let’s go, we’ll just make it before the curtain rises.”
“I hope there will be room for all of us. This is Esther.”
Mr Rufus blinked as if, with no eyes for anything but Rosabelle, he had not even noticed the other girl’s presence. “How do you do, Miss Esther,” he said courteously, and offered each an arm. “I’m glad you have come with Miss Rosabelle. I’ve warned her against walking about here alone.”
Throwing a scared look around her, Esther grasped his sleeve as if it were her only chance of safety and scurried alongside. He gave her a kind but dismissive smile, then turned to Rosabelle.
“I trust they have not mangled the play too badly. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes. My mother is not interested in the theatre, but Papa is a devotee of Shakespeare’s works. He has taken me to every new production since I was quite small. This is one of my favourites.”
“There’s no knowing what they have made of it,” he cautioned. “Not only are the actors puppets, it has been cut to less than an hour, remember.”
“I hope they’ve kept all the funniest bits,” Rosabelle said. She felt in need of cheering up. The joy of being with him was overshadowed by the coming parting.
As if he read her mind, there was a sadness behind his smile. “I believe you can count on that. I’ve strolled past the tent twice today, and each time I heard great merriment. Here we are.” He freed his arm from Esther’s grip and reached into his pocket.
Hearing the jingle of coins, Rosabelle said quickly, “I’m paying for this,” as she loosened the strings of her reticule.
“Let me treat you.”
She didn’t want to hurt his pride, yet she could not let him spend his meagre wages on her. “I might,” she said in a low voice, “but I cannot allow you to pay for Esther. And it will look...most particular if I pay for her and you pay for me.”
“‘Urry up, ladies an’ gent! Show’s beginning.”
“As you will,” said Mr Rufus resignedly, “but I pay for myself.”
The doorman accepted their shillings impartially, and they went in.
They found seats on a bench to one side, with a good view of the stage. Rosabelle sat between Esther and Mr Rufus. Though the tent was not really full enough to justify the way his elbow pressed against hers, she made no attempt to move away. Soon enough, his touch would be no more than a painful but precious memory.
Thank heaven the marionettes were not to perform Romeo and Juliet. Rosabelle could not have kept her composure through that tragic romance. She was not sure she’d be able to laugh at the comedy ahead, no matter how well done.
It was very well done. The puppeteers’s version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream concentrated on Bottom’s adventures. Rosabelle simply could not help laughing, especially as Esther lost all her diffidence and chortled like a gleeful child at the antics on stage. Mr Rufus’s mirth was transmitted to Rosabelle as much through the contact between them as by sound. His ribs must be aching with laughter.
At the end, they all emerged into daylight with tears of merriment in their eyes.
“Oh, Miss Ros,” Esther gasped, “I never seen anything like it in all my born days. I can’t wait to tell Mam all about it.”
“Hot chocolate all round first,” said Mr Rufus, “before you go anywhere. My treat,” he added with a meaningful glance at Rosabelle.
“I’d like to bathe my feet in hot chocolate,” she said with a smile of acquiescence. “They are two blocks of ice. The show was so funny I didn’t even feel them freezing till now.”
“I expect they quickly went numb. We’ll go in and sit by the oven and you’ll soon thaw.”
The word thaw sobered both of them. Esther did not notice, prattling away as she rehearsed the tale she’d tell her mother about flying fairies, the man with an
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