three. This
Bohemian life pleased him. He loved youth, gaiety and good fellowship. He
was fond of a laugh, took Lily on his knee after dinner, played with her,
praised her home-made cakes, her tough chops, and then began talking bike
to Lily ... who hated bikes, and who got something different from a hat
flung at her, when she missed a trick.

No matter, hard as it was, she preferred touring to staying in London. The
work was the same, but, at least, it was a change. She was spoiled by
every one, down to that landlady who cried when she left.... After all
there were many worse off than she, everlastingly set about by "profs,"
confined to their rooms all day to practise their balancing; she had had a
taste of it in New York; no, thank you! She preferred having good times
with the girls, practical jokes, boxing-matches even, scrimmages,
pillow-fights. In the boarding-houses, they flirted with the boys; they
kept pet pigeons, white mice, a lizard; they exchanged secrets, stories of
every country, professionals all! Sometimes, they consoled one another;
promised to send kisses--x x x--on post-cards. And then there were new
faces, always; a week in each town, no longer; a real life of adventure
from one end of England to the other. Now it wasn't like that in London;
she felt less free there. Ma was particular and hard to please; there were
no pillow-fights, no romps; Ma hated those ways. The stage, yes, she put
up with that because it was Lily's profession; but one came in contact
with all sorts there; and that little devil of a Lily was wicked enough
already! It took all the home influence to thwart the bad examples which
she received outside; and it was Ma's business to see to it.

The house in Rathbone Place had been smartened up. There was a dining-room
which was used only for meals and which never had a bed put into it at
night. There were things on what-nots: little photograph-frames, loose
photographs, lucky charms, china cups; all shining and bright, thanks to
the adjunction of a lady's maid, as Pa called Maud, in his funny way. At
first, after the accident, it was terrible. Her natural awkwardness was
made worse by a glass eye; she could not tell one side from the other,
spilt the tea on the cloth, broke the crockery. Maud did the heavy work,
washed and scrubbed all day long. When the girls were in London, she went
with them to the theater, as dresser. Maud stood in the wings and admired
the New Zealanders whirling