"You oughta let Clare know when you're comin'," declared Tottie, holding the letter up to the light.
"Oh, well, I won't start home till she gits in. You know there's trains every hour to Poughkeepsie." Having gathered her bundles together, Mrs. Colter carried them into the back-parlor.
Left alone, Tottie lost no further time. To pry the letter open and unfold it was the swift work of a thumb and finger made dexterous by long use of the cigarette. "'Great news, my darling!'" she read. "'The firm says——'"
But Mrs. Colter was returning. "I'll be back from the store in no time," she announced as she came; "only want to git a bon-bon spoon and a pickle fork." Then calling through the double doors, "Come, Barbara!"
Tottie, having returned the letter to its envelope and resealed it, now set it against the diving-girl on the mantelpiece. "What you doin'?" she inquired; "blowin' the kid's board money?"
"Board money!" cried Mrs. Colter. "Why, Miss Crosby ain't paid me for two weeks.—Barbara!"
"Yes," answered a child's voice.
"Well, she's behind with me a whole month," returned Tottie, "and you know I let her have a room here just to be accommodatin'. The stage is my perfession, Mrs. Colter. Oh, yes, I've played with most all of the big ones. And as I say, I don't have to take roomers. Why, I rented this house just so's I could entertain my theatrical friends."
Mrs. Colter took out and put back her hatpins. "It must be grand to be a' actress!" she observed longingly.
"Well, it ain't so bad. For one thing, you can pick a name you like. Now, I think mine is real swell. 'What'll we call y'?' says my first manager. Y' see, my own name wouldn't do, specially as I'm a dancer—Hopwell; ain't that fierce? Tottie Hopwell! I never could live that down. So I says to him, 'Well, call me Mignon—Mignon St. Clair.'"