“I will get off at Rochester,” she told herself, “and then I’ll inquire for the Criterion Theatre.” She looked at the slip of paper which she carried so carefully in the little brown leather wrist bag. “Then,” she went on, “if the company has left Rochester I will go to Rockdale. But if it should get dark!” she cried in a low wail of terror. “If it should get dark and I should be all alone in a strange city!”
Then came the thought of the folks at home and how they would worry if night came on and she did not reach them. Was ever a girl so situated?
All sorts of dangers flashed before her mind, and now, though too late, she realized sharply how unfit a young girl is to cope with a big, strange world, how little the world cares for a girl’s tender feelings, and how cold and heartless it is when she tries to make her way through the city streets alone, yet crowded on every side by a throng of other human beings.
“But Tavia had to go through it,” concluded Dorothy, “and I must not be less brave than was she.”
The train was somewhat delayed on the run from Buffalo to Rochester, so it was almost noon when Dorothy reached the latter city.
On a slip of paper she had the directions of the theatre she wished to visit, and at the ticket station learned where the building was located. Then off she started, with never a look at the shop windows filled with wonderful displays of all kinds. She soon found the amusement resort, and stepping into the lobby, approached the ticket window and asked timidly:
“Can you tell me where the ‘Lady Rossmore’s Secret’ company is playing to-night?”
The man looked at her sharply. Then he smiled so ironically that Dorothy’s heart gave a painful thump, and a great lump came into her throat.
“‘Lady Rossmore’s Secret’ company,” he repeated, with the most prolonged and distracting drawl. “I guess there isn’t any. It’s down and out. Didn’t play to a house here last night big enough to pay the gas bills.”
“But the members of the company?” asked Dorothy with a choke in her voice.