“Hum! How should I know?” he asked with a sneer. “In jail, maybe, for not paying their board bills.”
For a moment Dorothy felt that she must cry out and tell him that the matter was very vital to her—that she must find a young and friendless girl who was a member of the company; but she realized what sort of a man he was and her better judgment asserted itself.
“But are there any members of the company in this city?” she persisted bravely, trying to keep up her courage, so as to get a clue as to the whereabouts of Tavia.
“In this city?” he repeated with the same distracting drawl. “Well, no. They managed to get out of here before the sheriff could attach their baggage and the scenery, which he was ready to do. They certainly were as poor a company as we ever had in this theatre. It was awful. Oh, no, they didn’t dare stay here.”
“Then where did they go?”
“Rockdale was their next booked place, but maybe they didn’t dare go there, for fear some word had been sent on ahead,” the ticket seller sneered.
“How can I get to Rockdale?” asked the girl, trying to keep back her tears.
“Get there on a train, of course,” and the man turned back to the paper he had been reading when Dorothy came in. Perhaps he was angry because she had not purchased a ticket to the current attraction.
“If you would be—be kind enough to direct me,” pleaded Dorothy. “I am a stranger here, and I must find a—a young girl who is with that company.”
Something in her voice and manner seemed to touch the rather indifferent man, for he straightened up in his tall chair and looked squarely and more kindly at Dorothy.