“ELLEN, don’t you wish something would happen?”
Ellen and I were walking up and down the street near the English church.
“Life is so very dull and monotonous,” I went on. “My! I would be glad if something real bad happened—some sort of tragedy. Even that is better than this deadness.”
Ellen looked at me, and seemed to hesitate.
“Yes, it’s awful to be so poor as we are,” she answered, “but what I would like is not so much money as fame, and, of course, love. That usually goes with fame.”
Ellen’s fiancé was going to be famous some day. He was in New York, and had written a wonderful play. As soon as it was accepted, he and Ellen were to be married.
“Well, I tell you what I’d like above everything else on earth,” said I sweepingly. “I would love to be a great actress, and break everybody’s heart. It must be perfectly thrilling to be notorious, and we certainly are miserable girls!”
We were chewing away with great relish the contents of a bag of candy.
“Anyhow,” said Ellen, “you seem to be enjoying that candy,” and we both giggled.
Two men were coming out of the side door of the church. Attracted by our laughter, they came over directly to us. One of them we knew well. He was Jimmy McAlpin, the son of a fine old Scotch, very rich, lady, who had always taken an especial interest in our family. Jimmy, though he took up the collection in church, had been, so I heard the neighbors whisper to mama, once very dissipated. He had known us since we were little girls, and always teased us a lot. He would come up behind me on the street and pull my long plait of hair, saying: