Nancy was on the point of settling for the autumn with Mr. Mortimer when an actor with whom she had played in two provincial companies before Bram’s death offered her £7 a week to go out on tour with him in a repertory of Robertson’s plays—£7 a week in the country was the equivalent of £10 a week in town. Nancy flung away any hope of fame, flung away the amenity of the London stage, flung away the pleasure of seeing Letizia every day, and became once more a strolling player, wandering the next ten years up and down the length of England, in and out of Wales, over to Ireland, and across the border into Scotland. She never sang any more except at festive gatherings to celebrate some Bohemian occasion; but if she sang no more on the stage, neither did she play another adventuress. Her engagements were nearly always with number one companies for number one towns. Having once achieved £7 a week, she never acted again for less, and without stinting herself too much or denying herself a month’s rest she managed to put by £100 every year. Until Letizia was twelve she was allowed to spend the summer holidays with her mother, who was, of course, always on tour in August, so that Letizia had plenty of experience of theatrical life in her impressionable childhood. At the age of eleven she fell very much in love with a good-looking actor of forty-five, a member of the company with which her mother was touring. At first Nancy was amused by this precocious passion and had many jokes about it with Mr. Bernard Drake, the object of Letizia’s adoration. But when, notwithstanding the bracing air of Blackpool, Letizia began to grow thin and pale and hollow-eyed and altogether thoroughly love-sick, Nancy became anxious about her health and begged Drake not to encourage her little daughter by any kind of “let’s pretend.” The next week the company was playing at Douglas, and Letizia was no better in spite of all sorts of amusements and thrills that included a personal introduction by Mr. Drake to several freaks then being shown at one of the halls by the sea for which Douglas was famous in those days. “What _is_ the matter, Letizia? Aren’t you enjoying your time with me?” They were sitting among the heather beyond the town, looking at the calm sea and the curve of the long _marina_. “Oh, yes, I’m enjoying myself terribly,” said Letizia in woebegone accents. “Only, in another month I shall have to go back to school.” “But the holidays aren’t half over yet,” her mother pointed out. “No, not yet,” Letizia sighed. “But they _will_ be over.” “Would you like to invite Mrs. Pottage to come and stay with us next week—no, next week is Llandudno and Rhyl—the week after at Hastings?” “No, thank you, mother. She’ll only laugh all the time at everything.” “Letizia, do not be so ridiculous. It’s only during the last fortnight that you’ve not been laughing at everything all the time yourself.” “I don’t think I shall ever laugh again,” Letizia groaned.