Even in her staggering weariness, her voice was not drab; it was filled with that twilight passion which had captured Elmer more than her beauty. . . . "Never did see a lady just like her," he reflected, as he plowed back to his hotel. "Face kinda thin. Usually I like 'em plumper. And yet—golly! I could fall for her as I never have for anybody in my life. . . . So this darn' Englishman didn't like my clothes! Looked as if he thought they were too sporty. Well, he can stick 'em in his ear! Anybody got any objection to my clothes?"
The slumbering universe did not answer, and he was almost content. And at eight next morning—Sautersville had an excellent clothing shop, conducted by Messrs. Erbsen and Goldfarb—and at eight Elmer was there, purchasing a chaste double-breasted brown suit and three rich but sober ties. By hounding Mr. Goldfarb he had the alterations done by half-past nine, and at ten he was grandly snooping about the revival tent. . . . He should have gone on to the next town this morning.
Sharon did not appear till eleven, to lecture the personal workers, but meanwhile Elmer had thrust himself into acquaintanceship with Art Nichols, a gaunt Yankee, once a barber, who played the cornet and the French horn in the three-piece orchestra which Sharon carried with her.
"Yes, pretty good game, this is," droned Nichols. "Better'n barberin' and better'n one-night stands—oh, I'm a real trouper, too; play characters in tent-shows—I was out three seasons with Tom shows. This is easier. No street parades, and I guess prob'ly we do a lot of good, saving souls and so on. Only these religious folks do seem to scrap amongst themselves more'n the professionals."
"Where do you go from here?"
"We close in five days, then we grab the collection and pull out of here and make a jump to Lincoln, Nebraska; open there in three days. Regular troupers' jump, too—don't even get a Pullman—leave here on the day-coach at eleven p. m. and get into Lincoln at one."
"Sunday night you leave, eh? That's funny. I'll be on that train. Going to Lincoln myself."
"Well, you can come hear us there. I always do 'Jerusalem the Golden' on the cornet, first meeting. Knocks 'em cold. They say it's all this gab that gets 'em going and drags in the
