‘We have different plays each night, and have beautiful “cuts.” Some nights, when the reserved seats are mostly empty, we have only singing and dancing. My sister does a lot of steps then; and when she comes off the stage she is well-nigh dead, she is so hot and tired. Mother is tired every day; for she coughs nearly all night. We are mostly all tired,’ the child continued, ‘for ’tis twelve o’clock, and often one, before we get to bed any night. Then there is a rehearsal every day at twelve o’clock. Mother never gets up till ’tis time to go to it.—Our tent was partly blown down last night, lady, for it blew very hard, and it was much damaged. Every strip of canvas costs six shillings, and it takes a great many to make a tent. Mother and the company are mending it now, while I am here.’ ‘How long will you remain in our village?’ ‘Maybe a week longer, or maybe two,’ answered the child; ‘it all depends on the “take” we have. We were six weeks in Pound’s Place; but we’ve only made enough these two nights here to pay the company, and had nothing for ourselves. We are often hungry, Jim and me.’ ‘Do you like being an actress, and wearing all those bright dresses, and singing for people who applaud and praise you?’ ‘O no, lady; I hate the life,’ she replied; ‘and the audience are cross often, if they don’t like the piece and what we do; and then I get frightened. Then father sings a comic song, and they all mostly like that.’ ‘How do you manage to take the tent, its fittings, and your wardrobe about from place to place?’ ‘We have a big wagon as holds everything, and the horse and the donkey they draw it. Then father hires a car for us, and another for the company, and we travel from village to village that way. We go to the towns in winter. Our theatre is well known; and in some places we make six pounds, and maybe seven or eight, in one night. Other times we might only take—as we’ve done here—ten shillings. We never go in debt,’ she added. ‘Mother sells our wardrobe when we are very poor, and then she asks kind ladies to help us by giving us their old clothes. Anything does for the stage so long as it’s bright. Once mother got a dress from a lady all over silver stars, and she wore it when she is the Queen. I doesn’t mean she is a real queen, but one in the play. But that’s worn out now,’ she added sadly. ‘I must be going now,’ Mary said, getting up; ‘and I’m very thankful entirely, lady. Maybe you would send the servants to-morrow night to the theatre, for Jim is having his benefit. We don’t have any real ladies come, or I’d be real glad to see you,’ she concluded ingenuously.