It was the first time he had ever been made to feel himself an outcast on account of his profession, and for a minute the words, by their injustice, stung him. Then his sense of fun conquered and he laughed to himself as he walked on with bent head in the teeth of the bitter, east wind.
Referring once again to the list of professional lodgings, he consulted the porter who told him which was the nearest house, and here he at last got taken in, by a dishevelled but smiling landlady.
“There’s Mr. Dudley, one of Mr. Skoot’s company, in my house now,” she said. “Maybe you could share the sitting-room.”
Ralph hesitated, but without more ado the woman stepped into her front parlour and put the case to the present occupant.
“Oh, by all means,” said a hearty voice; and the door was thrown back and into the narrow passage stepped a tall, powerful-looking man of about forty, his large, clean-shaven face, twinkling eyes, and broad mouth full of good humour. Ralph knew at a glance that it was not at all a face of high type, but it was genial and attractive and it contrasted most singularly with the forbidding face of the widow who only housed Christians.
“Come in, my boy,” said the hearty voice; “you look half frozen.”
“It was the landlady’s proposal,” said Ralph. “You are sure you don’t mind?”
“To be sure not! ‘Mine enemy’s dog, though he had bit me, should stand this night against my fire.’ Skoot was telling me about you. The little brute has called a special rehearsal; you had better look sharp and get something to eat for there’s no knowing how long they will keep us at it. The Skoots were always great hands at rehearsing.”
“You have travelled with them before?”
“Yes, many years ago, and there’s not much love lost between us. Shouldn’t have taken this berth now, if I hadn’t been out of an engagement for some time. I have my doubts if the tour will be a success. Skoot is awfully hampered, you see, by having to run his wife as leading lady.”