“If it’s one of those footy rotters,” growled Lily, hearing a knock at the door, “smash a bottle over his head!”
But no, it was simply her letters, sent on from the theater. Nothing of importance this morning; prospectuses, mostly: a wig-maker, special theatrical department; a manufacturer of traveling-hampers, for South Africa, Australia....
“No use for them,” thought Lily, with a sigh.
A ROOFER GIRL
And, on opening The Era, she received that discouraging sensation: always so many names, and so many tricks, and all “the best;” new ideas and troupes, troupes, troupes; another new troupe of fat freaks, a very flood of them; and Roofers, Roofers; “Greater-Greater England Girls,” words and music guaranteed, with scarlet legs and muslin skirts, complete; page upon page of pink tights; and national troupes and colonial troupes; and one had to earn a livelihood and shine among all that! Lily was half crushed; and everybody she knew was triumphing: the Pawnees,—one hundred and thirty music-halls, the whole of the Eastern and Western Trusts, the great two-years’ tour! The Three Graces also were continuing their triumphs. Lily, who felt herself the equal of any of them, held her breath as she read the news. Laurence had won her terrible bet that she would ride straight across Manchester and Salford on her bike, hands tied together, feet fastened to the pedals. At the Art Institute in Chicago, Marjutti had given a lecture on the art of contortion.
“Some josser of a journalist wrote it for her,” thought Lily.
And The Performer Annual had sent Marjutti its set of questions to answer, she had been published in print! And Lily was still waiting! And Tom? Tom was in England now, in the De Frece circuit; had had a triumph at the Portsmouth Hippodrome, as “Topsy Turvy Tommy,” dancing a sailor’s hornpipe on his hands. All, all were successful, including others even who were not so good as she was: one who obtained engagements because she had a nigger in her show; another because of a monkey.
“And I’ve done nothing yet!” grumbled Lily.
Oh, to be talked about in her turn, to achieve something, to become “our Lily!”