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She thought the whole company wonderful, the leading lady especially gifted. She learned with awe that Rodney had known Wallace Bannister, the leading man, more or less intimately for years. An aunt of his lived in Pittsville and the two had met as boys and later had been classmates for the brief period Bannister had remained at the Leland Stanford University.
Ben, and, sitting on two barrels behind the old railway station, ate countless cherries and apricots. Again and again they went to Pittsville. Sally was in their confidence and feasted them in the little flat or went with them on their innocent expeditions. From their third meeting, it was cheerfully taken for granted that Wallace and Martie belonged to each other.
Why, Mama and I walked down to Bonestell's." "Yes, we did, Pa! Yes, we did!" quavered Mrs. Monroe. "Oh, Pa, WHAT IS IT?" "And then what did you do?" he pursued blackly, turning to his wife. "Why why, Martie said she was going to go over to Pittsville and back, just for the ride just to stay on the trolley, Pa!" explained his wife.
And she missed Sally more every day. Sally and Joe had gone to Pittsville immediately after their wedding; Joe having received a dazzling offer of forty dollars a month for two summer months from the express company there. But when Sally had been married six weeks, Martie heard her voice one day when the younger sister was passing the Hawkes's house.
They talked frankly, in their three cheap rooms at the "Pittsville White House," before Wallace's girl. Jesse was pompous; Lloyd boyishly fretful; Mabel, patient, sympathetic, discouraged, and sanguine by turns. Martie was enraptured by the babies: Bernadette, a crimped heavy little brunette of five, and Leroy delicious at three months in limp little flannel wrappers.
"JUST ONE MOMENT." And, panting, he turned again to Martie. "Yes, and who else did you see in Pittsville?" he whispered, his voice failing. Martie, breathing fast, her bright eyes fixed upon him with a sort of fascination, did not answer. "I'll tell you who you saw," said Malcolm at white heat. "I'll tell you!
And after dinner, the night being fresh and sweet, and the meal early concluded because Malcolm was delayed in Pittsville and did not return for dinner, the three Monroes pinned on their hats, powdered their noses, and buttoned on their winter coats. Any excitement added to her present ecstatic mood was enough to give Martie the bloom of a wild rose, and Sally had her own reasons for radiance.
They drove up past the Poor House to the Cemetery, and into the Cemetery itself, where black-clad forms were moving slowly among the graves. The day was cold, with a bleak wind blowing; the headstones looked bare and forlorn. At half-past three, driving down the Pittsville road, back toward Monroe, Rodney said: "Why don't you come and have tea at our house, Martie?"
But it was more FUN! And in the evenings they walked around Pittsville, and went to the ten-cent theatre, or bought candy and divided it. COULDN'T Martie come some time to dinner? "Pa," said Martie simply. Sally's bright face clouded. She sent a kiss to Ma and darling Lyd. She and Joe would come back to Monroe in September, and then she would come see Pa and make him forgive her.
Sixty bones per week; pretty neat, what? We begin rehearsing in July, open August eighth, and if it's a go, go on indefinitely. The Cluetts and I are in this the rest of the company's gone flooey. Meanwhile, I have three weeks to wait, and I'm staying with my aunt in Pittsville studying like mad." "And what are you doing in Monroe?" Martie said contentedly, as they wandered along.
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