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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Daughter of Anderson Crow"

He stood in the doorway until she was out of sight
and remained there for nearly an hour awaiting her return. The men of
Tinkletown took but one look at the pretty young woman, but that one
look was continuous and unbroken.
"If this jay town can turn up enough money to-night to keep us from
stranding, I'll take off my hat to it for ever more," said Jackie Blake.
"Boothby says the house is sold out," said
Miss Marmaduke, a shade of anxiety in her dark eyes. "Oh, how I wish we
were at home again."
"I'd rather starve in New York than feast in the high hills," said he
wistfully. The idols to whom Tinkletown was paying homage were but
human, after all. For two months the Boothby Company had been buffeted
from pillar to post, struggling hard to keep its head above water,
always expecting the crash. The "all-stars" were no more than striving
young Thespians, who were kept playing throughout the heated term with
this uncertain enterprise, solely because necessity was in command of
their destinies. It was not for them to enjoy a summer in ease and
indolence.
"Never mind, dear," said she, turning her green parasol so that it
obstructed the intense but complimentary gaze of no less than a dozen
men; "our luck will change. We won't be barn-storming for ever."
"We've one thing to be thankful for, little woman," said Jackie, his
face brightening.


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