“I had much rather share diggings with you than with any of the others,” said Ralph, heartily. “If I’m not in your way, that is? You are the only man who has shown me the least kindness.” Dudley made an inarticulate exclamation. He was more touched than he would have cared to own. “You are thankful for small mercies,” he said, “and gratitude is a rare thing in the profession. But I like you, lad, and am glad to have you as a chum. You shall not have cause to be ashamed of me.” And so throughout the strange vicissitudes of the Scotch tour these two oddly-contrasting characters bore each other company, and for some time Myra Kay kept aloof from them both. CHAPTER XII “_All these anxieties will be good for you. They all go to the making of a man--calling out that God-dependence in him which is the only true self-dependence, the only true strength_.”--Letters of Charles Kingsley. |During the first month Theophilus Skoot’s Company prospered as well as could be expected. A week at Glasgow and a week at Edinburgh, with full houses, cheered every one; but after that, as they went northward, the days of dearth began. It was now past the middle of March, and the old proverb, “As the light lengthens The cold strengthens,” was fulfilling itself in very bitter fashion. Perhaps people were disinclined to turn out of their comfortable homes on such bleak evenings; at any rate, the week at Stirling proved a dead failure, and Perth was wrestling with the influenza demon, and had little leisure to bestow on strolling players. It was here that one evening Ralph, for the first time, learnt what it is to work without a salary. He was sitting on a basket, waiting for his cue, with “Pendennis” to cheer him into forgetfulness of fatigue and cold, when Dudley returned to the dressing-room, with an odd look lurking about the corners of his mouth. “The ghost walks,” he said, in sepulchral tones. “What do you mean?” said Ralph, laughing. “It’s all very well to laugh. You won’t be able to do that long. There’s no treasury to-morrow, my boy. ‘The manager regrets,’ etc., etc.” “No treasury!” echoed Ralph, blankly. “I’m not surprised,” said Dudley; “I was always doubtful whether Skoot would hold out long. But we may have better luck at Dundee.” “And if not, how are we to live?” asked Ralph, recollecting how small a sum he had to fall back upon. “Why, my dear boy, we must live like the birds of the air, who eat other folk’s property, and then fly away.” Ralph looked gloomy. “Well, after all,” he said, “the debts will virtually be Skoot’s, not ours. And, as you say, other places may not be so bad as Perth has been.”