Whatever their predilections, they were strollers upon compulsion.
Indeed, strolling was only feasible during summer weather.

Audiences could hardly be moved from their firesides in winter, barns were too full of grain to be available for theatrical purposes, and the players were then glad to secure such regular employment as they could, however slender might be the scale of their remuneration.

There is a story told of a veteran and a tyro actor walking in the fields early in the year, when, suddenly, the elder ran from the path, stopped abruptly, and planting his foot firmly upon the green-sward, exclaimed with ecstasy: "Three, by heaven! _That_ for managers!" and snapped his fingers.

His companion asked an explanation of this strange conduct.
"You'll know before you have strutted in three more barns," said the "old hand." "In winter, managers are the most impudent fellows living, because they know we don't like to travel, don't like to leave our nests, fear the cold, and all that.

But when I can put my foot upon three daisies--summer's near, and managers may whistle for me!" The life was not dignified, perhaps, but it had certain picturesque qualities.