But
for four seasons she's been doing amazing fine work with old Tom. She
seems to like it, and she's as daring as the very old Nick. Don't know
wot fear is, I might say. She's so fairy-like and so purty that the
crowds just naterally love 'er to death. She's going to be a wonnerful
'ansome woman, David, that gal is, take it from me. 'Ere she is!"
"She's like a rose," said David, following the slim, scarlet creature
with his eyes.
"And a rose she is, my heartie," said Joey. "When I was a lad at 'ome,
there was a chap named Thackeray writing wonderful clever tales. I
remembers one of them particular. It was called 'The Rose and the
Ring.' I never see Christine in them togs without thinking of the name
of that book--The Rose and the Ring, d' ye get my idea? Mr. Thackeray
was a well-known writer when I was a boy. That was thirty year ago. I
daresay he's dead and forgotten now."
David smiled. "He'll never die, Mr. Noakes. He's more alive now than
ever. 'The Rose and the Ring.' Why not 'The Rose _in_ the Ring'?"
"Hi! Hi!" cried Joey approvingly, "Right you are."
During the entire act of Little Starbright and Monsieur Dupont David
gazed entranced.
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