Part 22 (2/2)

”Me, too. But if you're going to be poor like me, soon you'll have to go out in the world, scared or not.”

”I suppose.”

I lace up my weskit and slide in my pennywhistle and my s.h.i.+v.

”What will you do if you're put out in the world, Sister?” I ask.

”I suppose I'll be made a governess to someone else's children ... unless a match can be made for me.”

”Not much fun, that. More fun to make your way on your own. It can be done. Even as a girl, alone. Come, we can rig you out with bits and pieces of clothing from downstairs and you'll look just like me. The wild and contrary Valentine Sisters, out on the prowl!”

”But I'll be missed at prayers tonight.”

”Hmm ... all right. You can't go out tonight, that's certain. But we'll do it tomorrow afternoon, for we do a Sat.u.r.day afternoon show, as well as the nighttime one.”

Ready now, I turn and go to the window.

”Please be careful, Jacky.”

”I will, Sister. Turn off the lamp when you leave.”

She says that she will, and I hook my leg through the open window and fit my foot on the first rung.

Much later when I return, smelling I'm sure of spilt ale and tobacco smoke and with much jingle in my purse, Amy is there in her nightclothes, sprawled across my bed with a book on her chest and the lamp long since gone out.

I open my seabag and add my handful of coins to my h.o.a.rd and then get into my night togs. I rouse Amy enough to get her under the covers and on her side. She murmurs, ”Thank goodness,” and then falls back into sleep.

Dear Amy, I thinks, crawling in beside her and pulling the blanket up over both of us, you need not have worried. The crowds were cheerful and well behaved and generous with their applause and their money.

We've added a closing number to our act and it went over wonderfully. It's called ”The Parting Gla.s.s,” and it's a slow song, almost a lament. Gully plays the straight melody and sings over it.

”Oh, all the money that ever I had

I spent it in good company.

And all the harm I've ever done,

Alas, it was to none hut me.”

I play a breathy countermelody over it all on my whistle to add a wistful touch, and after we do the final verse...

”And all I've done for want of wit

To memory now I can't recall.

So fill for me the parting gla.s.s,

Good night and joy be with you all.”

Gully bows low and I do a deep curtsy and we are off. A perfect way to end the set and the evening.

”Always leave 'em wanting more, Moneymaker,” says Gully, putting the Lady Lenore gently back in her velvet-lined bed. He had even cleaned up a bit and stayed almost sober the whole night and insisted on walking me home after our set. I said he didn't have to and was even a little suspicious and made sure my s.h.i.+v was handy, but he was a gentleman and it was good walking and talking with him and not having to stay in the shadows.

He left me at the foot of my ladder, chuckling at my arrangement. ”Och, you're a rare 'un, you are, Moneymaker,” he whispered, and disappeared in the dark.

I put my hands behind my head and look off into the dark, too keyed up to sleep just yet, and I think back on another funny thing that happened tonight. These two gents come up to me after I was steppin' off the stage at the end of a set and they bow all polite and I'm watchin' 'em real careful for any false moves but they don't invite me upstairs or anything like that. Instead they hand me a small white card that says Fennel & Bean

Thespians

Theatricals & Revues

I looked at the card and then blankly up at them.

”Actors, Miss. I am Mr. Fennel and this is Mr. Bean”-a sweeping bow. ”We are always looking for talented young actresses. Are we not, Mr. Bean?”

”Yes, we are, Mr. Fennel,” says Mr. Bean.

”But I'm not...”

”Oh, yes, you are. And we notice that you are not at all shy in performance,” says Mr. Fennel.

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