"They weren't heavy for me, I didn't tip anybody except the dresser. Chloe made the engagements, so Chloe could pay the tips. Trust this child! What does make you sick in that business is the comedians, with the red noses and the umbrellas—they're always after you. There was a little brute in one show—his wife was in the bill, too; she did sentimental ballads. Well! how he could let her travel I don't know. It was her last week, but she wasn't fit to be working so long, we almost expected any night—— And there he was after me all the time! 'I shall write to you, Tattie—I see you go to Balham, and Walham Green next week!' 'Who gave you leave to call me "Tattie?"' I said; 'you low cur, I wish I was a man, to give you a good hiding!' I did pity his wife. She never spoke to me—she used to pass me in the wings with her head turned away; I suppose she thought I was as bad as he was. I said to her one evening when she was ill, 'Can I get you anything, Miss——' I forget what her name was. 'No, I thank you, Miss Tarantelle,' she said—like that; wouldn't look at me! I was so sorry for her. Poor little woman, what a life!"
Rosalind shuddered. After a pause, she said:—
"You're well out of it, dear."
"Except for the money. I expect I'll go back to it as soon as I can. I had a contract for a year—they wanted the option of renewing for another year."
"They were to have the option?"
"Yes—all on their side; I didn't think it was good enough to sign that. So I said I'd like to, but I was going to be married at the end of the summer."
"You weren't really?"
"Not much! No marriage for me—not in the Profession anyhow!—but lots of them think a contract doesn't bind you any more if you marry. Lil Rayburn put me up to that dodge. She lent me her song when the Tarantelles wanted me—it was a great concession: her big success! Whenever she doesn't want to sign an option and is afraid to refuse point-blank, she looks bashful and says she's going to be married at the end of the summer. She has been going to be married 'at the end of the summer' for the last nine years!" They turned to the fire, and lit cigarettes—Rosalind's; she had remembered to put a hundred in her trunk.
"'What is the use of loving a girl
If the girl don't love you?'"
hummed Tattie. The song was just published. "They are fine cigarettes!