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[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] j .."TROTTY,"…

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[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] j "TROTTY," I BT A. J. DARYL, Author of "Merry.go-RouTid," "On Tour," fte. [ALL' RIGHTS RESERVED.] She was only a. little wee mite of a thing when she first came to the theatre; an atom of humanity rolled round in a bundle and laid on an old rug # in the corn-er of one the ladies' dressing-rooms. Polly Langley rushed up in her impulsive manner and looked inquisitively at the new object; its face was covered over, but one little hand was caught through the meshes of a woollen shawl and doubled into a. pink ball. Welt, I never!" she said, with a laugh, if it isn't a baby! I wonder who its ma is." It belongs to me," answered a slim,' sad-look- ing woman, who was arranging some costumes on the other side of the rcom. Oh, yes. I remember now; you are the new dreeser, aren't you, Mrs. Mrs. Brown," put in the dresser, quietly, aa a faint flush passed over her face, leaving it almost paler than before. A few more girls came in one by one, and they all cast curious glances at the new arrival and. the mysterious bundle in the corner. Polly Langley's honest, wide-open eyes took in every detail of the woman's refined face, with its closely pressed mouth, the fair curly hair, and the white hands with the thick wedding ring. I believe this is a. lady, Lily," she whispered, as she passed one of her companions. Lily nodded, and said rather irrelevantly, What fun!" The new dresser's fingers were quick and neat, arranging flowers aid ribbons with careful taste, and even the second-class ladies of a third-class provincial company appreciated her quiet move- meets and ladylike manners. They strolled .out into the theatre as their toilettes were completed, and the woman they left behind knelt down on the floor. Very gently she uncurled the baby fingers and laid her cheek upon the iny hand. "Baby, ray darli:ig," she whispered, "we are aJone in the world, you and T. with no one to care for us. Alone, qùit,\ quite alone!" It comforted her to talk to her. child, although it could not know and did not understand, but slept on peacefully. It did not awake 01 move the whole evening, and was so quiet that Polly laughingly asserted it was not a baby at all, it was only a dormouse! But the "time came by degrees for the dormouse- baby to waken ints life. As the weeks went on the "blue eyes oper.ed and watched the flickering lights and the moving figures of the girls as they donned their finery. Of course, they played with her as if she had been a doll, and gave her their trinkets for toys, but Polly said ingenuously she was not to have tip gold ones in case they made her mouth sore. She was the blue-eyed baby's most devoted slave, anl she it was who first nicknamed her Trotty." Mrs. Brown's .idvent had created a lot of curiosity and not a little jealousy amongst the community at the theatre, and there were many contradictory accounts concerning her antecedents. Some said she was a widow, some that her husband had deserted her. and just a few less charitable than the rest, said it was as well to name the child Trotty, because as like as not—poor little brat—she hadn't any other. The months that had transformed the inanimate bundle into the pet of the theatre had left their mark on Mrs. Brown's pale face the cheeks were thinner, and here and there the lines that only sorrow brings.' Whatever its cause may have been, she spoke no word and gave no sign, and no one cared to ask. This world has sympathy enough for pink- nmined eyes. and listening ears for every wailing grief; our human nature comforts what it sees, but God help those that bear a dry-eyed sorrow! Trotty alone could bring a smile en her mother's face, and indeed the child seemed to carry smiles wherever she went. She was hail-fellow-well-met with everyone at the theatre, from the manager to the call boy, and they each had a word or nod for her as they went by. The only person who did not appreciate Trotty was Mrs. Farley, and she said to her way of think- ing she was a skinny little thing as there was no call to make no fuss over." Mrs. Farley waa the woman who. to use her own vernacular, "did the chairing" for the theatre. She did not consider she had been born to that poeition. As a girl she had aspired to a Terpsichorian career, but a certain lumpiness of figure and awkwardness of movement rendered her hopes fruitless, and she was condemned, if she danced at all, to danoe in the back row of the ballet. Once, and once only. was she elevated to a more prominent place, and that was when on the strength of a fine muscular pair wof arms she was selected to impersonate Britannia in the pantomime. i suppose we each of us have our own individual moon that we cry for. long for, and hanker after; and sometimes—very seldom-get. Mrs. Farley was more fortunate than most folk, for her moon ttpabled right into her arms the day she was chosen for Bri tannin and found she was to be wheeled in a chariot up the centre of the stage, and stand for at least a minute and a. half in the full glare of the footlights. Her moon shone for two whole month?, and then waned for ever. At the end of the pantomime she was sent once more to the back of the ballet, and in sheer disgust she married carrotty-haired Farley, ooe of the stage carpenters, and got out of it for ever. The cares of a. numerous family and a not too sober husband combined to grind her down; so when the latter died quietly one day with his head in the gutter she took up the chairing" business, and seemed to the manner born. Anyway, she showed the usual abhorrence to a. skirt and body tha.t had the slightest relationship to each other; brushed her hair on the top without undoing the knot at the back, and wore a clean apron over a. dirty one, or a. dirty one over a. clean one with strict impar- tiality, in a. way that is peculiar to the genus "char." She walked too, with a sort of want of balance that was only adjusted when she had a pail in one hand and a. broom in the other. The latter ahe rather affected; it may ha.ve been because the inverted broom top reminded her of the trident ehe had wielded so successfully in her palmy days. The reason Mrs. Farley did not see any beauty in Trottv was manifest to anyone who knew her own little snub-nosed, bandy-legged child that was about the same age. and was always tenderly alluded to bv her mother as my Liz. one was suppwet.. to be a verv fine child in her own family eircle, and if mere flesh were taken into consideration, "I^ATrrotly ™ about five yean.old «h.t "the boss" chose a pantomime in which a child fairy ™ aSd L; th. h«art-bun;u.g, to whose would be the lucky one selected. Forquite a. fortnight Mrs. Farley brought her Liz with her to the theatre regularly, taking every of crossing the manager's path with the chrid drag- ging after her, in the hopes he would be struck with its beautv; but the truth was Liz was too fane tor the put: and she was passed over in favour of the much-despised Trotty.. r The blue eyes were shining like stars on Boxing I,- Night, when Mrs. Brown decked out her darling Jn a dainty dress of white .nd silver, with butterfly wings on the dimpled shoulders, and a shining crown on the golden cults. Just in fun Polly Langley fastened a string of pearls round the little throat and declared no fairy who ever sat on a toadstool was ever half so pretty.. Trotty evidently had a keen sense of her own im- portance and the responsibility that rested upon her. With quite a grave face she walked backwards and forwards in the dressing-room, and had it not been for an accident all would have been well. As it hap- pened by some chance her necklace broke; the pearls rolled away on the floor. and Trotty forgot all about the responsibilities, and began to cry like the baby she was. In rain her mother and Polly tried to pacify her Her necklace was gone and she was broken-hearted. It seemed probable that a very miserable fairy would make her appearance, when Mrs. Brown suddenly unfastened her dress at the throat and taking a. chain from her own neck put it round Trotty's. It was just a slender cord of gold holding a diamond star. „ U Oh. Mrs. Brown, how beautiful. Is it really real?" cried Pollv, in an ecstacy of admiration. Don't ask me anything about it," she answered. nervously. I can't tell you, Polly. I can't." Real or not, the light of Trotty's star sparkled and flashed across the theatre. It even attracted the attention of a dark young fellow who was siting in the stalls. He leant forward and watched it through his opera glass. "Gazebee, who is that child?' he asked, abruptly. Good gracious, Fairfax, I don't know,' his com- panion replied. How am I to know who the kid M? 111 ask Polly, if you like. She'll know." Gazebee spoke with a drawl. His brain did not move very quickly, and his tongue was obliged to lag in order to keep it company. "Are you going behind afterwards?" asked Fair- fax. Why, yes, of course. I've got a supper on, you know." "I'll come with you," said the friend. "Not to the supper. I didn't mean that," he added, im- patiently, in answer to a look on Gazebee's face. I suppose you want to talk to Polly," the latter surmised, in his deliberate fashion. No, I don't. 1 want to see the child." Fairfax was fortunate, for Polly had Trotty with her when they met behind the scenes. Gazebee was Polly's principal admirer at that time, and the two a,t once embarked in an animated conversation, while Trotty stared at the dark young man with her iti. nooent blue eyes, and he stared ">t her. What is your he said, at Length. Trotty." Trotty vhat?" "Only Trotty," she asserted, solemnly. ♦ Who JOB this?" Fairfax anxiously, jb to lifted up the atar that huULflB MOK. If Trotty had been older, she would 11a,e noticed that his hand WM trembling like that of an old man, and that he turned it over to read a date on the back. n Mammy did give it to me. And who is vour mammy, little one? "Mrs. Brown!" Trotty said with dignity, as if she had in.part*>- ne useful information at last. Miss Langley, Fairfax said, interrupting the interesting conversation unceremoniously, who is Mrs. Brown ?" One of our dressen. Why do you want to know?" I,- i *1 want to speak to her on an important subject. Can I see hPT to-night?" No. she has gone away." answered Polly, tedmg a fib without any compunction. She did not know what the dark younsr man wanted, and was not going to betray her friend to him. Where does she live?" Fairfax asked, "I should be so much obliged if you would tell me." "I really dont know," Polly replied, telling a second fib in the srme interests. As bad luck would have it Mrs. Farley overheard the oouersation. n grv «« rhe was she had not been able to keep away from the theatre during Trotty's performance; ahe came to scoff, and con- tinued to scoff all through it. She knew perfectly well Polly had refused the address on purpose, and out of pure contrariety she made up her mind to thwart her. If it's Mr. Brown's address you're wanting, sir, she lives at No.* 3, Treverton Street, round the corner to the right, and as you leave the theatre." "Thank you," said Fairfax, and Mrs. Farley said afterwards she made for sure he was mad," for he dropped half a sovereign in her hand. No. 3, Treverton Street was a poor little house; I one of a. double row of poor little houses that all put together made up a poor little street. Half I the windows had no olinds, and somehow looked like eyes without eyelashes, and some that were broken and Stuffed with rags looked like eyes that ¡' had been put out altogether. The inhabitants could be seen going backwards and forwards on their various errands, and they were suitable ten- ants for such god-forsaken castles. With broken boots, and in ragged gowns they shambled along, most of them carrying cracked jugs in their hands on their daily pilgrimage to the "Travellers' Rest," at the corner. Poor travellers! Poor, wretched, I weary, travellers! How many of them would not have been glad to lay down their packs and rest, even if their heads were pillowed on the churchyard even if their heads were pillowed on the churchyard sod 1 a Gerald Fairfax came along in the bright mom- ing sunshine, and somehow his eyes grew sad at the sight of the squalid knots of children that were congregated on the pavement. One here and there reminded him of their prototypes in the well-to-do world, but most were inin, white, and sickly, with a prematurely old loom, on their pinched faces. They stepped their play to stare at him as he went by, doubtless wondering with their dull ) little brains what a gentleman could have to do in I Trevertoa Street.. •" Mrs. Brown? Yes, she s m, said a slatternly girl, who opened the door at No. 3. That s her room" and nodding in the direction of the back parlour, she rolled her red sodden hands in her apron, and disappeared in the lower regions. Come in," and Fairfax opened the door. A sudden light flashed into his face, and he came forward with outstretched arms. Mabel! Have I found you at last?" he cried. Just for a second she hesitated, then the face grew hard and set. Why have you eo—°?" she asked, in a. cold voice. "Could you not leave me in this place? I should never have troubled you again." Do you think that I could -est until I found you? Oh. Mabel, Mabel, why did you go away?" Why? You ask me why?" I know I was a bad husband. I know I treated you like a brute, but, Mabel, I loved you all the time." And yet you struck me," she said, almost beneath her breath. His face flushed even under the dark skin. I did not know what I was doing." "No." (There was a whole world of expression in that one word). When you went away it sobered me for ever. You shall never complain of that again. Come back; let us begin a new life together. Let us begin again As we did at the altar steps. Mabel, come back: I promise I will make you happy." I will not. What is the use of making promises? You will only break them as you have done before." There was a reproachful look in his eyes, but bhe would not meet it. "Why did you follow me?" she asked; "why could you not leave me alone?" "I did not know that you were here. I came because a little girl at the theatre waa wearing—' he stopped as a sudden thought came into his nund. "My God! Mabel, was that my child?" Stem and white he asked the question, and her eyes fell before the fire in his. She did not answer, but pointed to the shabby sofa where Trotty—poor, tired, little Trotty-was lying asleep. One or two half-stifled sobs broke the silence as he knelt beside his baby, stroking the golden curls and kissing the rosy face for the « first time. His wife looked steadily out of the window far away over the house tops. The re- sources of her little fortress are nearly exhausted. and she knew if she faced the enemy she must capitulate. A bright streak of sunshine creeping between the neighbouring chimney pots lighted her hair into a. golden glory, and smoothed the lines of sorrow from her face. To Fairfax's eyes she looked just like the girl he had loved and who loved him—once. A memory haunted him as he watched her; the memory of an old orchard; of an April sky laced wi, white blossomed boughs; and a world—his world and hers—that had seemed near akin to heaven. With that memory in his heart he put his arms round her and drew her to him, as he had done in the old time. Mabel, kies me before I go—for Trotty's sake.* Ther, were tears in his voice, and tears in his eyes, too, and they broke tue barrier down. The next time Trotty went to the theatre she sat in front in all the glory of velvet and lace, and Mrs. Farley's snub-nosed, bandy-legged Liz had a chance after ill. [The End..

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