on the stage, and in the little dressing rooms that looked out on the river, and on deck, and in the box office, the company and crew of the Cotton Blossom Floating Palace Theatre lounged and waited, played pinochle and waited, sewed and napped and read and wondered and waited.
"You can't mean it, Nola darling. Flopping up and down these muddy wretched rivers in this heat! You could be out at the Bay with Andy. Orin London with Ken and me—Ken, dear, isn't it any better?—or even in New York, in the lovely airy apartment, it's cooler than"
Magnolia sat forward.
"Listen, Kim. I love it. The rivers. And the people. And the show boat. And the life. I don't know why. It's bred in me, I suppose. Yes, I do know why. Your grandpa died when you were too little to remember him, really. Or you'd know why. Now, if you two are set on going back on the night train, you'll have to listen to me for a minute. I went over things with the lawyer and the banker in Thebes when we took Mama back there. Your grandmother left a fortune. I don't mean a few thousand dollars. She left half a million, made out of this boat in the last twenty-five years. I'm giving it to you, Kim, and Ken.”
Refusal, of course. Protest. Consideration. Acquiescence. Agreement. Acceptance. Ken was sitting up now, pallidly. Kim was lyric. "Half a million! Mother! Ken! It means the plays I want, and Ken to produce them. It means that I can establish a real American theatre in New York. I can do the plays
