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Thirty minutes later I was standing beside her as she handed me a basket full of eggs. The sun was just then coming up. "Gonna be another hot one too,... she reminded me as we stood there looking at it, as it just then crested the horizon. "Let's see to the horses," she told me then. "And then after that, I'll have you haul back some of that fresh hay while I head into town." You sure you don't want me to get that wire for you?" I asked once again, thinking about her back, though I also took a. It was a role in which I wasn’t altogether comfortable. Mrs Baxter usually dealt with our resident red-headed ‘volcano.’ Fifty years old and unshakable, she’d dressed countless ‘Scarlets’ and didn’t bat an eyelid at the constant tantrums. But Mrs Baxter wasn’t there. Hearing of problems at home, she’d upped and left, leaving me to take her place. For my part, I was no newcomer to the theatre; I’d been a dresser for the ladies chorus for years, but they were pussy-cats compared to Miss Scarlet.. More

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