Ben nodded his head vigorously, "Yes, please stop."

Arabella promptly stopped; she was very pleased that just a few lines had been enough to convince Mr. Simons what an asset she would be to his stage.

Before he could get in another word, Clara appeared and took control of the situation...

Then she turned to Arabella, "Are you here to order something, dear? If not kindly do not disturb the customers. Speaking of which, Mr. Simon, I have your breakfast started and hopefully I can bring it out real soon."

Ben smiled, "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh!" exclaimed Arabella, remembering her actual mission "Well, see, last night Jemima told me that the lady who Mrs Pike hired to help you out might not be well enough to come in..." she looked around then cupped her hands to say in a whisper so loud it could have been heard for blocks around "WOMEN'S TROUBLES!" she then continued in her normal voice "... and she said if'n she didn't turn up, I should come in and see if you need help. She'd ha' come herself, but she needs to clean Mr. Falmer Browne's gutters out." There, it was as clear as mud, or as clear as Mudd could make it.

"Anyhow, while I was on my way in, Mr Simons here stopped me and asked me to audition fer his top secret theatre what he's openin'." she further elucidated.

He turned to Arabella with a disappointed look on his face, "My dear, when someone tells someone something that is supposed to be in confidence, they expect it to stay that way. Now that you have let the cat out of the bag by auditioning here and now, people will know what I am planning. I'm afraid, I'll have to cancel the auditions for local talent and send for some out of town professionals."

Arabella listened carefully to this: careful in that she was careful to hear only the parts she wanted to hear.

"That's a good idea, boss." she agreed "'Part from me and Caroline Mundee, there ain't no other talent round here. I'll come and find you tomorrow and we can plan who to hire. See, it's the big Combination Companies you need to... oh!" she sniffed the air "... I'd better go turn that bacon over!" she yelped as she started to dart into the back kitchen, pulling her bonnet off and disentangling herself from her shawl.

Just then the door opened and a new customer walked in, calling for "Ham, Eggs and Tomatoes! but hold the tomatoes! And coffee. Plenty of coffee! Oh, er, please." before slumping into a chair with a sigh of "What a night!". It was Lorenzo Crabbe, sporting a bandage around his left ear.

At least Arabella stopped.............doing whatever it was she had been doing? Clara was actually uncertain of what that had been and did not wish to ask. Turned out the girl claimed she did have a specific reason for being here at the diner (needless to say it did not involve spending any money of course).

"Oh!" exclaimed Arabella, "Well, see, last night Jemima told me that the lady who Mrs Pike hired to help you out might not be well enough to come in..." she looked around then cupped her hands to say in a whisper so loud it could have been heard for blocks around "WOMEN'S TROUBLES!" she then continued in her normal voice "... and she said if'n she didn't turn up, I should come in and see if you need help. She'd ha' come herself, but she needs to clean Mr. Falmer Browne's gutters out."

Gracious! She often had to wonder if Arabella did this sort of thing on purpose?

"Shhh! Unfit topic for a public eatery," Clara frowned.

"Also Emeline did not inform me of any woman coming here to help me out. I believe you or your source of information are incorrect. I will be fine," Clara remarked.

Then Arabella proceeded to reveal some grand secret Mr. Simons had apparently divulged to her (what on earth was he thinking???) Needless to say he was not pleased. So the man was going be investing in what sounded like a theatre, like one of those east coast ones? And auditions too? Clara frankly did not care, she had never been to a theatre in her life and she had lived just fine without it, thank you.

She then turned to go back in the kitchen when once more the front door opened and there was another customer. Goodness, the morning had the look of it being a busy one. Hard on her but good for the profits.

"I'd better go turn that bacon over!" Arabella yelped as she started to dart into the back kitchen, pulling her bonnet off and disentangling herself from her shawl.

Clara looked wide eyed, the kitchen was a sacred place to her and Emeline, people did not simply waltz in there!

"No! Arabella, I will do it! That bacon is not burning, I just put it into the pan a minute ago. You are not to mess around in there!"

Before she could charge into the kitchen to make sure her decision was enforced, she turned to force a harried smile at the latest customer.

"Good day, sir! Have a seat. Ham and eggs coming up. And coffee too."

With that seen to, Clara rushed off to the kitchen like it was a race, which in a way it was.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

Her quick action didn't give the other girl time enough to do much of anything, Ara had the spatula in hand to turn the bacon slices but Clara moved right up to her and literally took the utensil out of her hand with one quick and firm swoop.

"Ara! One never does anything in another's kitchen without explicit verbal permission from the cook. I will handle this. This is my job, what I do every day," she lectured even as she began flipping over the sizzling pork slices of goodness.

"Please, Ara, do not make my job any more stressful, " she pleaded.

A look of confusion appeared on Ben's face. The Mudd girl was now calling him "boss". He struggled to remember if he had said anything to indicate that he had hired her but he knew that he hadn't. If Arabella thought that she was working for him that meant she'd be showing up at any time and at any place. That thought made him feel a bit sick in the stomach and he wasn't so sure that breakfast would be a good thing right now. This needed to be nipped in the bud before it got any worse.

Sadly, he didn't have much of chance to tell Arabella that she had made a mistake because as she soon as she finished her latest speech she went running off into the kitchen. Poor Clara, now had the problem of dealing with her.

It was about this time when Crabbe walked in the diner and yelled out his order. Ben looked over at the man and noticed the bandage. Crabbe and him had a relationship that was more akin to one of business acquaintances and not one of friendship. They were both conmen in their own ways. However, the difference was that Ben only conned those who deserved it or had done him (or someone he cared about) wrong in some way, whereas Crabbe was more likely to con someone just for the heck of it, especially if it had any monetary rewards.

Getting up out of his chair, Ben went over and took a seat opposite Crabbe, "Let me guess...you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar."

"Ara! One never does anything in another's kitchen without explicit verbal permission from the cook. I will handle this. This is my job, what I do every day," she lectured even as she began flipping over the sizzling pork slices of goodness.

Arabella shook her head a little and rested her butt on the big table in there. "Well, you don't do it all on your own every day" she said simply. Sure, Arabella was known around town as a blathermouthed flibberdygibbet, and Clara as 'that nice sensible Redmond girl' but sometimes the latter was perhaps a little too stiff and unyielding in her ways. That didn't stop Arabella loving her, and wanting to help her, though.

"Please, Ara, do not make my job any more stressful, " she pleaded.

"Oh Clara Anne Lutz, I know you think I'm just a noodle-headed idjit, and (sigh) you're probably right: but even Mammy Cookie thinks I'm useful in the kitchen, she tells me what to do and I do it and, guess what? I do it all right. So when you're good and ready you just bark out some orders to me and I'll obey like a good little kitchen maid."

She hoped that was enough, that it gave Clara the control over the situation she needed to allow the slight Virginian girl to be of some use to her.

"Well, you don't do it all on your own every day" Ara retorted.

"I never claimed I did, Emeline and I worked as partners," Clara pointed out as she flipped the bacon slices onto their other sides.

"Please, Ara, do not make my job any more stressful, " was her plea.

"Oh Clara Anne Lutz, I know you think I'm just a noodle-headed idjit, and (sigh) you're probably right: but even Mammy Cookie thinks I'm useful in the kitchen, she tells me what to do and I do it and, guess what? I do it all right. So when you're good and ready you just bark out some orders to me and I'll obey like a good little kitchen maid," Ara claimed with a huge dose of seeming sincerity. Of course that did not mean she would follow thru, that was the issue.

Clara gave in, against her better judgement, she could use the help.

"Very well, I need some eggs then, the basket is over there......crack'em open in that frying pan ...the one to the right and fry them up. If the customer makes no special request we always simply prepare them sunny side up. Use four eggs since I have two people wanting some," she directed in a calm clear tone of voice.

"Very well, I need some eggs then, the basket is over there......crack'em open in that frying pan ...the one to the right and fry them up. If the customer makes no special request we always simply prepare them sunny side up. Use four eggs since I have two people wanting some," she directed in a calm clear tone of voice.

Arabella stopped herself cracking a smile at Clara's somewhat pedantic over-instruction ('Four eggs sunnyside' would have been enough detail on what was needed, but that was Clara!) She gave a little curtsy and stuck to cracking eggs instead.

"Four eggs, simple!" she smiled, getting the four into the frying pan without breaking the yolks and waiting until Clara wasn't looking before fishing out the one little bit of shell that went in by accident.

"Say, how's Jacob liking his job with the telegraph company?" she asked chattily "Jemima says that Hector says that their Pa says that he's the best express delivery rider they ever had! 'Don't know the meanin' of danger!' he said, 'get's through hell or high water' he said 'be it Indians or outlaws, he can dodge or fight his way out o'...' Say, you all right Clara Anne? You lookin' a little squirrel there. Mornin' sickness I suppose?" she asked, for to her eye Clara looked a little pale.

Arabella got to it as requested allowing Clara to begin on the toast.

"Say, how's Jacob liking his job with the telegraph company?" she asked chattily "Jemima says that Hector says that their Pa says that he's the best express delivery rider they ever had! 'Don't know the meanin' of danger!' he said, 'get's through hell or high water' he said 'be it Indians or outlaws, he can dodge or fight his way out o'...' Say, you all right Clara Anne? You lookin' a little squirrel there. Mornin' sickness I suppose?" she asked, for to her eye Clara looked a little pale.

None of that was what Clara wanted to hear, it already was a bone of contention between her and her beloved husband, she made no bones about her not being happy with him putting himself at risk like that. Yes, it was needed money but if Jacob went and died on them, where would Clara and the babe be in the future then?

"I do not have morning sickness I will have you know," it was a white lie but it was always wise to admit as little as possible to Arabella lest the whole town know about it.

"Oh and for your edification, I have absolutely zero interest in what Hector says about any topic. Kindly change the subject," Clara asserted.

"How is your new friend, ummm, Miranda?" Clara fully knew it was Miriam but she figured that would get Arabella going as she would be eager to correct her.

On 9/7/2021 at 2:46 AM, Lorenzo Crabbe said:

"Say, did I hear Muddy say you were opening a theatre round here? For these yokels?!" he snorted, jerking a thumb at the Weaver's as representatives of the local fauna, before sitting back in his chair and surveying Ben like he was some sort of lunatic on display at a circus.

Ben sighed. Arabella was a lot louder than he thought she was. There was no use denying since it would be probably around town before the end of the day. "Yes, I am and I don't consider them yokels."

It was best to start curry favour now or he'd have no-one to fill seats even if he got good acts.

"You remember the Helena Theatre?" he reminded Simons of the somewhat unimaginatively named playhouse in the Territory's capital city. "Even they had trouble getting full houses every night, with a populous and, I guess, sorta sophisticated potential audience to work with. Course, the answer's pretty clear, but I'm not sure that there's many men willin' to sink to dabblin' with such things..."

"I remember but there were times they had people lining up to get in. It all depends on who and what's playing."

"Ben, I'm afraid that to make a go of this thing, you're going to have to present... Light Opera!" he let the full grimness of this assertation sink in, but then warmed to the subject: "See, the womenfolk like to go to that, cause they think it's respectable and socially superior, and the fellers like to go cause of all the girls in tights, showin' off their nice shapely legs."

Mr Weaver was leaning sideways a little, cocking an ear at the mention of these delightful fancies.

Glancing over at the Weavers, Ben smiled. Weaver was too busy leaning over to notice the scowl on his wife's face. No doubt she would have a lot to say to him when they left.

He turned his attention back to Crabbe, "If Light Opera is what it takes to fill seats, then so be it. As I said, it all depends on who you get to and what shows you put on."