The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1901-03-03


breath, was engaged for the ballet for
the next season. After which l was
conscious of a new feeling, which /
would have found it very hard to explain
lheh. 1t was not importance. it was not
vanity; it was pleasant feeling; it lifted
the head and gave one patience to bear
eaImly many things that had been very
hard to bear I know now it was the
self7respect that comes to every one who
Is a bread-winner.
Directly after breakfast next day /
was off to get my mothers dress
Went quite alone, and my head was well
IN the cir, for this was indeed an impor-
tant occasion l looked long and felt
graVely at the edges OF the goods. l
did not know what for, but I had seen
other people do it; and when my lavender
lowered muslin was cut off, done up and
paid for, / found quite a large hole in
my six dollars, for it was wartime, and
anything made of cotton cost a dread
ful price. But, good heaven! how happy
l was, and how proud, that I should get
a dress for my mother instead of her
getting one for me! Undoubtedly, had
there been fire just then, would have
risked my life to save that lowered
muslin gown.
That Awful Summer Vacation.
During that first season L learned to
stand alone, to take care of myself and
my small belongings without admoni-
ton from any one. One of my notions
was that since an immortal soul had to
dwell in my body it became my bounden
duty to bestow upon it regular and
painstaking care in honor of its tenant.
The idea may seem extravaganza, vet
it served me well, since it did for me
what a mothers watchful supervision
oth
are being formed.
l had learned to make up nv face
properly, to dress my hair in various
ways, and was beginning to know some
thlng about correct costuming, but as
the season was drawing to it's close my
heart qual1ed, and l was sick with fear.
for l was facing for the first time that
terror that affection of the actors life,
tile summer vacation.
People little dream what a period of
misery that is to many stage folks See
ing them well dressed laughing and
talking lightly with the acquaintance
they meet on the street, one little sus-
poets that the gnawing pain of hunger
may be busy with their stomachs-that
woman fainting because of the eX-
trene heat, you know" was really caus-
ed by want of food. That the fresh hand
kerchlefS are of their own washing That
the garments are guarded with almost
inconceivable care, and are only worn
ON the street-some older articles answer
ing in their lodgings-and that is not
vanity, but business, for manager is
not attracted by seedy or shabby look
Ing applicant for an engagement.
Oh, the weary, weary miles the poor
souls walk, with not a penny in their
pockets! They are compelled to say.
Roll on, sweet chariot" to even the
street car as it appears before their
longing eyes.
Some people, mostly men, under these
circumstances, will stand and look at
the viands spread out temptingly in the
restaurant windows: others, myself
among the number, will avoid such places
as one would avoid pestilence.
We were back in Cleveland for the
last of the season, and / used to count
over and over again my tiny savings,
and set them in little piles. The wash,
the board-and, dear heaveni there were
six long, long weeks of vacation, and
had only little pile of board money to
set against the whole six | had six little
piles of wash money, and one other little
pile, the raison detre. of which / will
explain by and by, if l am not too much
ashamed of the early folly.
Now / was staying at that acme of
board house, where, by the way social
lines were drawn with sharp distinction,
the upper class coldly recognizing the
middle class, but ignoring the very ex-
istence of the lower class, refugees from
ignoble fortune
Mrs. Bradshaw, by right of dignity and
regular payments of the best room in
the house, was the star boarder and 1t
was undoubtedly her friendship which
raised me socially from the third and
lowest class to which my small payments
would have relegated me.
The Torture Chamber.
Standing in my tiny, closet-like room,
by lifting myself on my toes, l could
touch the ceiling. There was not space
for bureau, but the yellow washstand
stood quite firmly, with the assistance
of a brick, which made up for the alb
sence of part of its off hind leg There
was kitchen chair that may have been
of pine, but my aching back proclaimed
It lignum- vitae. A mere silver of bed
stretched itself sullenly in the corner,
where its Stats, showing their outlines
through the meager bed clothing, sug-
gested the ribs of an attenuated cab
horse. From that bed early rising be-
came pleasure, instead of a mere duty.
Above the washstand In narrow, once
Neneefed, Dut now merely glue covered
frame, hung small looking glass, that
size considered, could / believe, do more
damage to the human countenance than
could any other mirror in the world. II
had a sort of dimple in its middle, which
had the effect of scattering ones fea-
lures into the four corners of the glass
loosely; a nose and an eye brow here,
mouth yonder and eyes altogether now
here.
1t was very disconcerting. Blanche
said it made her feel quite seasick, or
words to that erect. This dreadful little
apartment lay snug against the roof. In
the winter the snow drifted prettily, but
uncomfortably, here and there. In the
summer the heat was appalling Those
d-timers, who knew the house well,
called No Is the torture chamber" and
many a time during the fiercest heat
Mrs. Bradshaw would literally drive me
from the small, fiery furnace to her own
room, where at least there was air to
breathe, Cor No. 10 had hut half win
dow. And, yet, miserable as this place
was, 1t was refuge and shelter.
The house was well known: It was
ugly, as cheap things are apt to be, but
it was respectable and safe. and
trembled at the thought of losing my
right 90 enter there.
In the past my mother had been en-
ployed by the landlady as seamstress
and as housekeeper. besides which she
had once nursed the lonely old woman
through a severe sickness, and as l had
been permitted to live with my mother,
Mrs. Miller, of course, knew me we'll;