Green Fancy | Page 6

he read aloud. He eyed the newcomer
once more. "And automobile?"
"No. I'm walking."
"Didn't I hear you just come up in a car?"
"A fellow gave me a lift from the cross-roads."
"I see. My name is Jones, Putnam Jones. I run this place. My father an'
grandfather run it before me. Glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes. We used to
have a hostler here named Barnes. What's your idea fer footin' it this
time o' the year?"
"I do something like this every spring. A month or six weeks of it puts
me in fine shape for a vacation later on," supplied Mr. Barnes
whimsically.
Mr. Jones allowed a grin to steal over his seamed face. He re-inserted
the corn-cob pipe and took a couple of pulls at it.
"I never been to New York, but it must be a heavenly place for a
vacation, if a feller c'n judge by what some of my present boarders have
to say about it. It's a sort of play-actor's paradise, ain't it?"
"It is paradise to every actor who happens to be on the road, Mr.
Jones," said Barnes, slipping his big pack from his shoulders and letting
it slide to the floor.

"Hear that feller in the tap-room talkin'? Well, he is one of the leading
actors in New York,--in the world, for that matter. He's been talkin'
about Broadway for nearly a week now, steady."
"May I enquire what he is doing up here in the wilds?"
"At present he ain't doing anything except talk. Last week he was
treadin' the boards, as he puts it himself. Busted. Up the flue. Showed
last Saturday night in Hornville, eighteen mile north of here, and
immediately after the performance him and his whole troupe started to
walk back to New York, a good four hunderd mile. They started out the
back way of the opery house and nobody missed 'em till next mornin'
except the sheriff, and he didn't miss 'em till they'd got over the county
line into our bailiwick. Four of 'em are still stoppin' here just because I
ain't got the heart to turn 'em out ner the spare money to buy 'em tickets
to New York. Here comes one of 'em now. Mr. Dillingford, will you
show this gentleman to room eleven, and carry his baggage up fer him?
And maybe he'll want a pitcher of warm water to wash and shave in."
He turned to the new guest and smiled apologetically.
"We're a little short o' help just now, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Dillingford
has kindly consented to--"
"My God!" gasped Mr. Dillingford, staring at the register. "Some one
from little old New York? My word, sir, you--Won't you have a--er--
little something to drink with me before you--"
"He wants something to eat," interrupted Mr. Jones sharply. "Tell Mr.
Bacon to step up to his room and take the order."
"All right, old chap,--nothing easier," said Mr. Dillingford genially.
"Just climb up the elevator, Mr. Barnes. We do this to get up an
appetite. When did you leave New York?"
Taking up a lighted kerosene lamp and the heavy pack, Mr. Clarence
Dillingford led the way up the stairs. He was a chubby individual of
indefinite age. At a glance you would have said he was under twenty-
one; a second look would have convinced you that he was nearer forty-

one. He was quite shabby, but chin and cheek were as clean as that of a
freshly scrubbed boy. He may not have changed his collar for days but
he lived up to the traditions of his profession by shaving twice every
twenty-four hours.
Depositing Barnes' pack on a chair in the little bedroom at the end of
the hall upstairs, he favoured the guest with a perfectly unabashed grin.
"I'm not doing this to oblige old man Jones, you know. I won't attempt
to deceive you. I'm working out a daily bread-bill. Chuck three times a
day and a bed to sleep in, that's what I'm doing it for, so don't get it into
your head that I applied for the job. Let me take a look at you. I want to
get a good square peep at a man who has the means to go somewhere
else and yet is boob enough to come to this gosh-awful place of his
own free will and accord. Darn it, you LOOK intelligent. I don't get
you at all. What's the matter? Are you a fugitive from justice?"
Barnes laughed aloud. There was no withstanding the fellow's sprightly
impudence.
"I happen to enjoy walking," said he.
"If I enjoyed it as much as you do, I'd be limping into Harlem by this
time," said Mr. Dillingford sadly. "But, you see, I'm an actor. I'm too
proud