Suddenly the tension was gone. Grandma wiped her tears with a corner of her apron and began laughing at the thought of her lifting the ponies. "Now be off with you. I can't stand out here all day. I got a pile of work to do."
But as the truck swung out of the drive, she didn't go into the house. Her eyes followed it to the road, as she continued wrapping and unwrapping her arms in her apron. Then suddenly she took off the apron and waved good-bye.
Paul turned and waved back. He could see Grandma growing smaller and farther away, standing in front of the sign that said "Misty's Meadow." And even while he was feeling sorry for her, having to do up the dishes and go to the Ladies' Auxiliary and all, his mind raced ahead to Richmond. In sudden panic he wondered, Would there be anyone at the theater at all? Maybe the day was too nice, and children would be shooting marbles and flying kites and playing baseball, and they had seen the movie anyway.
[Chapter 24]
STORMY'S DEBUT
In Richmond, a hundred and twenty miles away, children of all ages were waking up, springing out of bed, aware that this morning held a delicious sense of adventure and wonder. They dressed more quickly than usual and fretted at grown-ups who dilly-dallied over breakfast. They wanted to be sure of getting to the theater on time.
A few of the children could boast of having seen real actors making personal appearances, and some had even seen animal actors like Trigger and Lassie. But no one ever had seen the live heroes of a story that had really and truly happened. It was almost too exciting to think about.
The employees of the Byrd Theater, too, felt an enthusiasm they could not define. By nine o'clock the manager arrived, just out of the barber chair. He was followed closely by the projectionist, who disappeared into his cubicle under the ceiling. Then came the cashier, the popcorn-maker, and the ticket-taker, followed by the musicians with their cellos and piccolos and kettledrums.