"Did you mind it much?" Joe asked.
"Did I? Say, young man, it's a good thing I had a lower berth. I rolled out, and if I had fallen on anybody—well, there might have been a worse wreck! Fortunately no one was under me when I tumbled," and Mrs. Talfo chuckled.
"And you weren't hurt?" asked Joe.
The fat lady laughed. Her sides shook "like a bowlful of jelly," as the nursery rhyme used to state.
"It takes more than a fall to hurt me," said Mrs. Talfo. "I'm too well padded. But we're going to get in very late," she went on with a look at her watch. "The performers should be at breakfast at this time, to be ready for the street parade."
"We may have to omit the parade," said Joe.
"I wouldn't care," declared the fat lady with a sigh. "It does jolt me something terrible to ride over cobble streets, and they never will let me stay out."
"You're quite an attraction," said Joe, with a smile.
"Oh, yes, it's all right to talk about it," sighed Mrs. Talfo, "but I guess there aren't many of you who would want to tip the scales at five hundred and eighty pounds—advertised weight, of course," she added, with a smile. "It's no joke—especially in hot weather."
The performers made merry over the accident now, and speculated as to what might happen to the show. Their train carried a goodly number of the "artists," as they were called on the bills, and without them a successful and complete show could not be given.