One turn was an eccentric fellow with a grotesque make¬up, a deadwhite face and a very red nose, and his costume was that of a ragged tramp. He made little jokes, fell over himself, and then climbed on to the back of a chair, made more little jokes and played the accordion, Rose thought him quite funny at first, but very soon changed her mind about him. She was sitting near enough to see his real face, peering anxiously through that mask. It was old, weary, des¬olate. And from where she sat, she could see into the wings and standing there, never taking her eyes off the performer, was an elderly woman, holding a dressing gown in one hand and a small medicine glass in the other. And then Rose wanted him to stop clowning for them, wanted the curtain to come down, so that he could put on that dressing gown, drink his medicine or whatever it is, and go away with the elderly woman, and rest and not worry any more.