Theatrical and Circus Life: or, Secrets of the Stage, Green-Room and Sawdust ArenaJennings, John J. (John Joseph)
History
Theatrical and Circus Life: or, Secrets of the Stage, Green-Room and Sawdust Arena
Jennings, John J. (John Joseph)
Circus; Theater -- United States
"You had considerable of the juicy under your vest, last night," the
first girl remarks; and then there is a laugh, and Charley says he
feels in a good humor for tackling more wine at that particular moment,
and the quartette move off to a hack-stand, jump into an open carriage
and with lots of laughter the party are driven away to some suburban
garden with wine-room attachment, or to some urban restaurant where
wine may flow as freely as morality may fade away with the speeding
hours, and the pleasure may last just as long as the restauranteur
thinks he is being well paid for the privileges of his establishment.
Another girl comes through the stage-door. She is probably twenty-four
years of age, is tall, handsome, and most attractive in her manners.
There is the least suspicion of the matron in her appearance, that
dignity of carriage that characterizes women after marriage being
clearly defined in her motions. She knows somebody has been waiting for
her,--a young fellow as tall, handsome, and attractive as herself. He
sees her at once as she comes out, and goes to meet her. Her footsteps
are bent in his direction also. As they come together she lays her hand
upon his extended arm, and says:--
"No, Fred, I cannot go to-night. Sister is sick at the hotel, and the
baby has no one to take care of her. I must go home to my child."
"Pshaw!" says Fred, "I had everything arranged for an elegant drive and
a rattling supper."
"I'm so sorry, Fred;" the woman pleads, "but I can't go to-night. You
will have to excuse me this once. You know it was daylight when we
parted this morning."
"I know," her friend insisted; "but what's the use in worrying about
the baby. She's probably asleep now and won't need your care. Come, go
along."
"No, I cannot. I will not to-night." But Fred continues to plead,
asking the pleasure of her presence at a supper, just for a half hour
and no more. Unable to resist the warmth of his appeals, she at last
consents, and it is safe to say, that once the evening's entertainment
begins, morning breaks upon the sleepy babe and sick sister at the
hotel before Fred and his companion are ready to part.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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