It was late Sunday evening when I received it and I hunted up the manager at the hotel.
"I'm going," I told him.
"Well, of course, your contract——"
"I'm going anyway ... and I know the lines." He was as considerate, I suppose, as could be expected.
"I can give you three days," he calculated.
"Four," I stipulated.
"Well, four," he grudged. That would allow two days for the funeral.
CHAPTER III
As it turned out I was more than a month in Taylorville and so saved myself from the Coleman players for a more kindly destiny, though at the time it did not appear so. It grew out of my realizing, in Effie's first clasp of me, something more than our common loss, more than family, something that I felt myself answer to before we could have any talk together that did not relate to the funeral and the manner of my mother's death.