Free Jubilee Trail by Gwen Bristow Page A

closed the book, thinking it was Oliver coming back. But she heard a swish of silken skirts, and as she looked around she caught her breath. The person coming into the room was the silver-blond actress from the Flower Garden.
    The actress was alone. Her clothes were showy and expensive—a plaid silk dress and a mantle of squirrel fur, and a fashionable dark blue bonnet with a plume.
    Garnet felt the ripples running up her spine again. The fabulous creature was passing right by her own table; Garnet could have reached out and touched her if she had not been too well-bred to do so. And evidently the actress was going to sit down and eat her supper here, for the waiter was coming forward to meet her. He was bowing in pleased welcome. She must be a favored customer. Garnet hoped Oliver would be a long time coming back.
    “Good evening, Cicero,” the girl was saying to the waiter. They appeared to be very good friends. “What have you got for me tonight?”
    Her enunciation was very distinct, and she had a trained stage-voice, clear as music. The waiter rubbed his hands.
    “Something mighty fine, ma’am, mighty fine. They call it étuvée de viandes, it’s got chicken in it, and ham and beef, and lots of vegetables and bay leaf and seasonings, oh, it’s mighty fine.”
    “It sounds like it. Lord, I’m hungry. Bring me the stew, lots of it, and some rice with cream gravy, and a big pitcher of milk. And some biscuits and strawberry jam.”
    “Yes ma’am, I sure will. And what about some oysters first, while they’re steaming up the stew in the kitchen?”
    She gave an undignified but appreciative whistle, and kissed her fingertips in the air. “Yes, of course, oysters. With horseradish. You’re a wonder, Cicero, I don’t know how I lived so long without you.” Then she began to speak more seriously. “Tell me, Cicero, how’s Larry been today?”
    He shook his head. “Still right poorly, ma’am. He gets stronger, I think, but it takes a long time.”
    “Yes, I know it does,” she said with sympathy. “Here.” Taking a bill out of her purse she slipped it into his hand. “Get him something real pretty to play with. That’ll make him feel better.”
    “Thank you, ma’am, thank you. He sure will appreciate it, ma’am. You’re mighty nice to us.”
    “Oh, shut up. Go crack those oysters before I starve to death.”
    “Yes ma’am,” Cicero agreed. “Now you sit right over here, ma’am, side table away from the draft.”
    He drew out the chair for her before going off to crack the oysters.
    The actress sat down and proceeded to make herself comfortable. She threw back her shawl, took off her bonnet, and put up her hands to loosen her hair. She had on dark blue kid gloves that matched her bonnet.
    Garnet felt ashamed of herself for staring. She tried to pretend she was interested in her book. Turning the pages, she looked at the pictured faces with their fantastic names: Veronica, Esmeralda, Melisande, Mignonette, Florinda.
    Somebody opened a door in front of her. This door, which was opposite her own table, led directly from the street. Two men came in from outside. The door banged behind them, and they called, “Hey, waiter!”
    Garnet started in alarm. The men were well dressed, but they were unsteady on their feet. They looked around, demanding of the air, “Where’s the waiter? Can’t a man get a drink?”
    As the waiter had gone out, the room was empty but for Garnet and the actress and the two strange men. The actress sat at a side table and they did not see her, but Garnet was directly in front of them and they saw her at once. One of them pointed at her, exclaiming joyously, “Hi there, sweetheart!” They started toward her.
    She sprang up in fright. But before she could push back her chair they had reached her. One of them caught her wrist and gave her what he thought was an inviting smile as he exclaimed,
    “Good evening, pretty thing! What you doing all by yourself?”
    “All by