A Pasteboard Crown: A Story of the New York StageMorris, Clara
General
A Pasteboard Crown: A Story of the New York Stage
Morris, Clara
Actresses -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Theater -- Fiction
"Then," despairingly cried Dorothy, "I will run for it myself! I can go
very quickly, mamma, and perhaps Mr. Bulkley will be so good as to keep
you company till I return!"
"Dorothy," cried Mrs. Lawton, "are you so utterly heartless that you can
deliberately lengthen out this period of suffering, simply to gratify
some whim of your own? O--o--o--h!" she groaned, dismally.
While Mr. Bulkley remonstrated: "Really, now, my dear little girl, while
we have no right to--er--er, to expect logic from a lovely creature like
yourself--you'll pardon me, Miss Dorrie, but you really don't show your
usual good sense in this instance! It is quite absurd, your idea of
walking when you can reach the village and return in less than a third
of the time by driving, and--and you know the poor lady's comfort should
be our first thought, so toss on your hat and let us start at once!"
With a lump big and hard in her throat the girl turned and left the
room, and half way up the stairs she was almost sure that she heard a
low laugh from the room she had left. "Oh," she thought, "if only papa
was back from his long walk, or if my Syb were here! How I wish Leslie
had arrived before this dreadful old man, who quite wears himself out
pretending to be a young man! Oh, dear! oh, dear! if Leslie should
happen to see me out with Mr. Bulkley--on the very day he was to call!
Oh, mamma, mamma! you are not playing fair!" and she dried two big tears
from her eyes before pulling down her veil, and then, all ungloved, she
ran down, and scrambling unassisted--to Mr. Bulkley's annoyance--into
the trap, sat there clutching the empty bottle, whose various labels
told plainly of visits to more than one chemist's shop, and so
overheard, though imperfectly, the groom making some suggestion about
the horse, "the chin-strap (mumble, mumble), curb, pretty severe
(mumble, mumble), tender mouth."
Mr. Bulkley's domineering tones answered: "Let it alone, I tell you! I
know what I'm about! I don't want my arms pulled out! Stay here till I
come back!" And, without the comforting presence of even a groom, they
started toward Yonkers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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