Dorothy looked about but could see no one who seemed to be an actor or actress. She had learned in a measure to know the type. Fairly sick and disheartened she turned away. How could she give up now, when she felt that Tavia must be almost within hearing of her voice? How loudly her heart cried out! Surely some kind fate would bear that cry to Tavia’s ear and bring her to her friend Dorothy—for now Dorothy felt that she could hardly go many steps farther in her weary search.
She heard a train steam into the station and go on without making a stop.
“Oh,” thought Dorothy, “if we could only get a train back again soon! But I can not give her up! I must—must find her wherever she is!”
Exhausted and discouraged, she sank down by the roadside at a grassy spot where the street turned into a country park. She felt that she must cry—she would feel better when she had cried—out there alone—away from the cruel persons—away from the seemingly cruel fate that was so relentlessly urging her on beyond her strength—beyond the actual power of human endurance. Was there ever so wretched a girl as was Dorothy Dale at that moment? Yes, she would indulge in a good cry—she knew it would relieve her nerves—and then she could go on.
The rough boys, playing nearby saw the girl sitting beside the road and, whether out of kindness or curiosity they hastened over to the place and stood looking down at Dorothy in respectful silence.
“Did they do anyt’ing to youse?” asked a little fellow with a ring of vengeance in his small, shrill voice. “Dem hotel guys is too fresh, an’ me fader is goin’—he’s goin’ t’ do somet’ing to dem if dey don’t look out.”
“Dat’s right,” spoke up another. “His fader is de sheriff an’ he’s goin’ t’ ’rest ’em, if dey don’t pay der own bills, fer all der talk of holdin’ de show trunks.”
Dorothy raised her head. Surely these boys were trying to comfort her in their own rough but earnest way. Perhaps they could help her look for Tavia.
“Do any of you know where the girls of this company are now?” she asked of the boys collectively. “I am searching for a girl with brown hair—”
She stopped abruptly, realizing how useless it would be to give these boys a description of Tavia.