A Peep Behind the Scenes | Page 3

isn't what I was brought
up to. I was brought up to a very different kind of life from _this_,' she
said, with a very deep-drawn sigh. 'It's a weary time I have of it--a
weary time.'
'Are you always on the move, ma'am?' asked the old man.
'All the summer-time,' said the woman. 'We get into lodgings for a little
time in the winter; and then we let ourselves out to some of the small
town theatres; but all the rest of the year we're going from feast to feast
and from fair to fair--no rest nor comfort, not a bit!'
'Poor thing! poor thing!' said the old man; and then a choking sensation
appeared to have seized him, for he cleared his throat vigorously many

times, but seemed unable to say more.
The child had climbed on one of the boxes, and brought down a square
red pincushion from the shelf which ran round the top of the caravan.
From this she took two pins, and fastened the picture on the wooden
wall, so that her mother could see it as she was lying in bed.
'It does look pretty there,' said the little girl; 'mammie, you can look at
it nicely now.'
'Yes, ma'am,' said the old man, as he prepared to take his leave; 'and as
you look at it, think of that Good Shepherd who is seeking you. He
wants to find you, and take you up in His arms, and carry you home;
and He won't mind the wounds it has cost Him, if you'll only let Him
do it.
'Good-day, ma'am,' said the old man; 'I shall, maybe, never see you
again; but I would like the Good Shepherd to say those words of you.'
He went carefully down the steps of the caravan, and Rosalie stood at
the window, watching him picking his way to the other shows, to which
he was carrying the same message of peace. She looked out from
between the muslin curtains until he had quite disappeared to a distant
part of the field, and then she turned to her mother and said eagerly--
'It's a very pretty picture, isn't it, mammie dear?'
But no answer came from the bed. Rosalie thought her mother was
asleep, and crept on tiptoe to her side, fearful of waking her. But she
found her mother's face buried in the pillow, on which large tears were
falling.
And when the little girl sat down by her side, and tried to comfort her
by stroking her hand very gently, and saying, 'Mammie dear, mammie
dear, don't cry! What's the matter, mammie dear?' her mother only wept
the more.
At length her sobs brought on such a violent fit of coughing that

Rosalie was much alarmed, and fetched her a mug of water, which was
standing on the shelf near the door. By degrees her mother grew calmer,
the sobs became less frequent, and, to the little girl's joy, she fell asleep.
Rosalie sat beside her without moving, lest she should awake her, and
kept gazing at her picture till she knew every line of it. And the first
thing her mother heard when she awoke from sleep was Rosalie's voice
saying softly--
'"Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep which was lost. There is
joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that
repenteth."'

CHAPTER II
THE LITTLE THEATRE
It was the next evening; the fair was once more in its glory, and
crowded with an admiring throng. The great shows were again
illuminated, and three rows of brilliant stars shone forth from the little
theatre belonging to Rosalie's father. He had been out all day, strolling
about the town, and had only returned in time to make preparation for
the evening's entertainment.
'Norah,' said her husband, as he put his head in at the door of the
caravan, 'surely you mean to come and take your part to-night?'
'I can't, Augustus, and you would know it, if you stayed long enough
with me; I've been coughing nearly the whole day.'
'Well, I wish you would get better soon; it's very awkward to have to
fill your part up every time. Conrad has to take it, and every one can
see he's not used to it, he's so clumsy and slow.'
'I'll come as soon as ever I can,' said the poor wife, with a sigh.
'It's to be hoped you will,' said her husband. 'Women are always
fancying they are ill. They lie still thinking about it, and nursing

themselves up, long after a man would have been at his work again. It's
half laziness, that's what it is!' said Augustus fiercely.
'If you felt as ill as I do, Augustus,' said his wife, 'I'm sure you wouldn't