In which Sabrina makes a visit to her parents in Emporia, returns after but a brief stay and chronicles some of the events that transpired while in the city of her birth. CHAPTER FIVE "Kill the prodigal, the calf has returned!" cried Sabrina the Show Girl, as her taxicab drew up to where we were standing. "Thought you were in Emporia!" we exclaimed in surprise. "I was. I came; I saw; I conquered. Or whatever whoever said it, did. Jump in and I'll tell you all about it. Fine business. I had more exciting events than ever appeared before under one canvas. But never again. You know when I started about ten days ago? Trouble? Why, I had more trouble than a manager with nine stars and one good dressing room. And I had to leave Estelle, my maid, here at that. I tried to get a stateroom, but nothing doing, so me for a berth with the common herd. Train going along fine, about 3 in the morning me pounding my fair young ear in lower six, when all of a sudden. Biff! Mr. Engine slaps a cow in the back and the whole works deserts the track and the caboose I'm in slides over the bank, turns over on her side and dies, lower six at the bottom. I get handed the following--one suitcase, two pairs of shoes and a fat hardware salesman from upper five. Not forgetting my womanly rights I turn loose a rebel yell and start to climb out of the opposite window with the kind assistance of the arm of the berth, the face of the fat salesman and a broken window, appearing as the Pink Pajama Girl on the side of the car that was at that time understudying the roof. "When I got out I turned loose a couple more whoops on the clear morning air just to let them know that I was still on the job, and took a casual survey of the disaster. Naturally our car was the goat and the only one that had gone wrong. The fat salesman does the appearing act next, dragging his suitcase; waived formality and asked me if I would have a drink. Me for the drink, and then I got him to climb back down and rescue the rest of my apparel, and I dressed standing up there on the side of the car, much to the edification of the train crew that were not busily engaged in assuring the other dames in the car that they were not dead. By and by along comes another train, and they load us all in and we get to Chicago only about four hours late. Me being that fatigued I rushed right up to the Sherman House, but there wasn't a room vacant on the top floor, so I knew I would not feel at home there, so I go capering over to the Annex.