Perdita Read Online Free Page B

decent-looking woman to guard her. She tried to slink down behind the woman when she spotted me, but she knew it was futile, and finally sat up and waved instead.
     

Chapter Three
     
    The show had not yet begun. I slid onto the chair beside her and got a hard hold of her arm. “Get your pelisse. We are leaving this hole, at once.”
    “Must we?” she asked. “Can’t we stay and see the performance at least? It is just about to begin.”
    Between a desire to see it, fatigue, the lack of anywhere to go when we left and plain dereliction of duty, I allowed myself to be talked into remaining for a while, which of course turned into the whole performance. The production owed everything but its title to John Gay’s Beggar’s Opera. It was so close a copy of the work that Mr. Daugherty ought to have been imprisoned as a plagiarist for daring to attach his name to it as author, and changing the title to The Warder’s Daughter. Mr. Daugherty played Captain Macheath, under the title of Colonel Maciver. Our leading lady of the ostrich plumes played Lucy, and a rather pretty blonde was Polly. It was an extremely entertaining performance. I doubt there was a troupe in London who could have done better. Mr. Daugherty looked very handsome in his officer’s uniform, sporting every manner of ribbon and medal.
    The rivals for his affection put on an excellent cat fight, while the fellow who played the fence was masterful, a walking weasel. We were fairly well concealed in our dark corner, so that we suffered no stares or rudeness from the male audience.
    It was no polite play that was put on. The ribaldry was so high at times I had to blush, and try to distract Perdita’s attention. Maciver took such freedoms with the women onstage I actually feared the police would come in and arrest him for putting on an obscene performance. When the two girls were fighting, too, it was arranged so that their dresses were half over their heads, and half down to their waists. Really quite shocking, but all done in a spirit of fun, offending no one but myself, and I was only offended from a sense of duty.
    When the curtain came down at intermission, I took the opportunity to quiz Perdita as to what she had been doing all day. She had skipped out of the George the night before as soon as she heard me snore. I do not snore actually, but groan in my sleep sometimes when I am troubled. She nipped over to the Red Lion and joined Tuck’s outfit. She had got a letter from Daugherty in her pocket, left off at the inn before his departure, inviting her. It is almost incredible she had accomplished so much during a brief talk at a window, but I have learned to believe the incredible from her. When she showed them the letter, she was taken aboard with no trouble.
    "He has a deal of gall, asking you to join him!”
    “I told him I was an actress,” she confessed. “But a very high class tragic actress.”
    “Fool! What was the point asking you to join this farcical play then?”
    “He said he would write a great tragedy for me. Something like Macbeth, as I already know the lines.”
    “Yes, and call it Macheath, as he changed Gay’s character’s name.”
    “Meanwhile he said I could sing or dance. They have songs after the ballad opera. He is very nice, and he is not married to Phoebe either, though she is jealous as a green cow of him. Phoebe is the leading lady."
    “I don’t suppose you happened to take our money when you left the inn?”
    “Good gracious no! I could not leave you stranded and penniless! I forgot all about the money,” she added, to defeat her claim. “I expect we will have to stay overnight at Marlborough, and hire a carriage back to Chippenham tomorrow to await Aunt Maude.”
    “The money is gone. Stolen from the inn, every sou of it. I have two shillings to my name. Do you think Daugherty might lend us a few pounds?”
    "They are very short of funds. He says the play made Gay rich, and Daugherty poor. I don’t know what