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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Polly of the Circus
+
+Author: Margaret Mayo
+
+Posting Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #859]
+Release Date: March, 1997
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLLY OF THE CIRCUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Keller
+
+
+
+
+
+POLLY OF THE CIRCUS
+
+By Margaret Mayo
+
+
+To My “_KLEINE MUTTER_”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+The band of the “Great American Circus” was playing noisily. The
+performance was in full swing.
+
+Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing tent sat a young,
+wistful-faced girl, chin in hand, unheeding the chatter of the women
+about her or the picturesque disarray of the surrounding objects. Her
+eyes had been so long accustomed to the glitter and tinsel of circus
+fineries that she saw nothing unusual in a picture that might have held
+a painter spellbound.
+
+Circling the inside of the tent and forming a double line down the
+centre were partially unpacked trunks belching forth impudent masses
+of satins, laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, and paste jewels.
+The scent of moist earth mingled oddly with the perfumed odours of the
+garments heaped on the grass. Here and there high circles of lights
+threw a strong, steady glare upon the half-clad figure of a robust
+acrobat, or the thin, drooping shoulders of a less stalwart sister.
+Temporary ropes stretched from one pole to another, were laden with
+bright-coloured stockings, gaudy, spangled gowns, or dusty street
+clothes, discarded by the performers before slipping into their circus
+attire. There were no nails or hooks, so hats and veils were pinned to
+the canvas walls.
+
+The furniture was limited to one camp chair in front of each trunk,
+the till of which served as a tray for the paints, powders and other
+essentials of “make-up.”
+
+A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, so that the performers
+might wash the delicately shaded tights, handkerchiefs and other small
+articles not to be entrusted to the slow, careless process of the
+village laundry. Some of these had been washed to-night and hung to dry
+on the lines between the dusty street garments.
+
+Women whose “turns” came late sat about half-clothed reading, crocheting
+or sewing, while others added pencilled eyebrows, powder or rouge to
+their already exaggerated “make-ups.” Here and there a child was putting
+her sawdust baby to sleep in the till of her trunk, before beginning
+her part in the evening's entertainment. Young and old went about their
+duties with a systematic, business-like air, and even the little knot
+of excited women near Polly--it seemed that one of the men had upset a
+circus tradition--kept a sharp lookout for their “turns.”
+
+“What do you think about it, Polly?” asked a handsome brunette, as she
+surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer.
+
+“About what?” asked Polly vacantly.
+
+“Leave Poll alone; she's in one of her trances!” called a motherly,
+good-natured woman whose trunk stood next to Polly's, and whose business
+was to support a son and three daughters upon stalwart shoulders, both
+figuratively and literally.
+
+“Well, _I_ ain't in any trance,” answered the dark girl, “and _I_ think
+it's pretty tough for him to take up with a rank outsider, and expect
+us to warm up to her as though he'd married one of our own folks.” She
+tossed her head, the pride of class distinction welling high in her
+ample bosom.
+
+“He ain't asking us to warm up to her,” contradicted Mademoiselle
+Eloise, a pale, light-haired sprite, who had arrived late and was making
+undignified efforts to get out of her clothes by way of her head. She
+was Polly's understudy and next in line for the star place in the bill.
+
+“Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of Death' stunt, ain't he?”
+ continued the brunette. “'Course that ain't a regular circus act,”
+ she added, somewhat mollified, “and so far she's had to dress with
+the 'freaks,' but the next thing we know, he'll be ringin' her in on a
+regular stunt and be puttin' her in to dress with US.”
+
+“No danger of that,” sneered the blonde; “Barker is too old a stager to
+mix up his sheep and his goats.”
+
+Polly had again lost the thread of the conversation. Her mind had
+gone roving to the night when the frightened girl about whom they
+were talking had made her first appearance in the circus lot, clinging
+timidly to the hand of the man who had just made her his wife. Her eyes
+had met Polly's, with a look of appeal that had gone straight to the
+child's simple heart.
+
+A few nights later the newcomer had allowed herself to be strapped into
+the cumbersome “Leap of Death” machine which hurled itself through space
+at each performance, and flung itself down with force enough to break
+the neck of any unskilled rider. Courage and steady nerve were the
+requisites for the job, so the manager had said; but any physician would
+have told him that only a trained acrobat could long endure the nervous
+strain, the muscular tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal.
+
+What matter? The few dollars earned in this way would mean a great deal
+to the mother, whom the girl's marriage had left desolate.
+
+Polly had looked on hungrily the night that the mother had taken the
+daughter in her arms to say farewell in the little country town where
+the circus had played before her marriage. She could remember no woman's
+arms about HER, for it was fourteen years since tender hands had carried
+her mother from the performers' tent into the moonlit lot to die. The
+baby was so used to seeing “Mumsie” throw herself wearily on the ground
+after coming out of the “big top” exhausted, that she crept to the
+woman's side as usual that night, and gazed laughingly into the
+sightless eyes, gurgling and prattling and stroking the unresponsive
+face. There were tears from those who watched, but no word was spoken.
+
+Clown Toby and the big “boss canvas-man” Jim had always taken turns
+amusing and guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in the ring. So
+Toby now carried the babe to another side of the lot, and Jim bore the
+lifeless body of the mother to the distant ticket-wagon, now closed for
+the night, and laid it upon the seller's cot.
+
+“It's allus like this in the end,” he murmured, as he drew a piece of
+canvas over the white face and turned away to give orders to the men who
+were beginning to load the “props” used earlier in the performance.
+
+When the show moved on that night it was Jim's strong arms that lifted
+the mite of a Polly close to his stalwart heart, and climbed with her to
+the high seat on the head wagon. Uncle Toby was entrusted with the brown
+satchel in which the mother had always carried Polly's scanty wardrobe.
+It seemed to these two men that the eyes of the woman were fixed
+steadily upon them.
+
+Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-natured fellow, at first
+mumbled something about the kid being “excess baggage,” but his
+objections were only half-hearted, for like the others, he was already
+under the hypnotic spell of the baby's round, confiding eyes, and he
+eventually contented himself with an occasional reprimand to Toby, who
+was now sometimes late on his cues. Polly wondered, at these times,
+why the old man's stories were so suddenly cut short just as she was so
+“comfy” in the soft grass at his feet. The boys who used to “look sharp”
+ because of their boss at loading time, now learned that they might
+loiter so long as “Muvver Jim” was “hikin' it round for the kid.” It was
+Polly who had dubbed big Jim “Muvver,” and the sobriquet had stuck to
+him in spite of his six feet two, and shoulders that an athlete might
+have envied. Little by little, Toby grew more stooped and small lines
+of anxiety crept into the brownish circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips
+that had once shut so firmly became tender and tremulous, but neither of
+the men would willingly have gone back to the old emptiness.
+
+It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly first managed to climb
+up on the pole of an unhitched wagon and from there to the back of
+a friendly, Shetland pony. Jim and Toby had been “neglectin' her
+eddication” they declared, and from that time on, the blood of Polly's
+ancestors was given full encouragement.
+
+Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of adding the kid to the daily
+parade. She made her first appearance in the streets upon something very
+like a Newfoundland dog, guarded from the rear by Jim, and from the fore
+by a white-faced clown who was thought to be all the funnier because he
+twisted his neck so much.
+
+From the street parade to Polly's first appearance in the “big top,”
+ had seemed a short while to Jim and Toby. They were proud to see her
+circling the ring in bright colours and to hear the cheers of the
+people, but a sense of loss was upon them.
+
+“I always said she'd do it,” cried Barker, who now took upon himself the
+credit of Polly's triumph.
+
+And what a triumph it was!
+
+Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done on the
+“concert boards.” She swayed gracefully with the music. Her tiny sandals
+twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and then upon the other.
+
+Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim left the
+loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he hovered near the
+entrance, anxious and breathless. The performers crowded around the girl
+with outstretched hands and congratulations, as she came out of the ring
+to cheers and applause.
+
+But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his clumsy
+fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too small for them
+and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and Toby was remembering
+the little shoes that had once needed to be laced in the cold, dark
+mornings, and the strings that were always snapping.
+
+Something had gone.
+
+They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for everything
+we lose we gain something; they were simple souls, these two, they could
+only feel.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to the
+chatter about the “Leap of Death” girl, Jim waited in the lot outside,
+opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had bought for her
+that day. He was as blind to the picturesque outdoor life as she to her
+indoor surroundings, for he, too, had been with the circus since his
+earliest recollection.
+
+The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of tents
+and wagons. The great, red property vans were waiting to be loaded with
+the costumes and tackle which were constantly being brought from the
+“big top,” where the evening performance was now going on. The gay
+striped curtains at the rear of the tent were looped back to give air
+to the panting musicians, who sat just inside. Through the opening,
+a glimpse of the audience might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and
+shifting uneasily. Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing
+“top,” with the women performers stowed away in one end, the “ring
+horses” in the centre, and the men performers in the other end.
+
+A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing tent,
+to shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the back lot for a
+glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring.
+
+Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and
+floated in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the other
+side to make haste to get their places, forget their cares, and be
+children again.
+
+Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red fire shot
+into the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut “butchers,” the
+popcorn boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the exhortations of the
+side-show “spieler,” whose flying banners bore the painted reproductions
+of his “freaks.” Here and there stood unhitched chariots, half filled
+trunks, trapeze tackle, paper hoops, stake pullers or other “properties”
+ necessary to the show.
+
+Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and lanterns gave
+light for the loading of the wagons.
+
+There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the
+dressing tent to the “big top,” as gaily decked men, women and animals
+came or went.
+
+Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn to be
+dressed as lions or bears. The wise old goose, with his modest grey
+mate, pecked at the green grass or turned his head from side to side,
+watching the singing clown, who rolled up the painted carcass and long
+neck of the imitation giraffe from which two property men had just
+slipped, their legs still encased in stripes.
+
+Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in the
+hope of some day getting into the performers' ring. Property men stole a
+minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they waited for more tackle
+to load in the wagons. Children of the performers were swinging on the
+tent ropes, chattering monkeys sat astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting
+their entrance to the ring. The shrieks of the hyenas in the distant
+animal tent, the roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the
+elephants mingled with the incessant clamour of the band. And back of
+all this, pointing upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire,
+white and majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit hills, that
+encircled the whole lurid picture. Jim's eyes turned absently toward the
+church as he sat fumbling with the lock of the little brown satchel.
+
+He had gone from store to store in the various towns where they had
+played looking for something to inspire wonder in the heart of a miss,
+newly arrived at her sixteenth year. Only the desperation of a last
+moment had forced him to decide upon the imitation alligator bag, which
+he now held in his hand.
+
+It looked small and mean to him as the moment of presentation
+approached, and he was glad that the saleswoman in the little country
+store had suggested the addition of ribbons and laces, which he now drew
+from the pocket of his corduroys. He placed his red and blue treasures
+very carefully in the bottom of the satchel, and remembered with regret
+the strand of coral beads which he had so nearly bought to go with them.
+
+He opened the large property trunk by his side, and took from it
+a laundry box, which held a little tan coat, that was to be Toby's
+contribution to the birthday surprise. He was big-hearted enough to be
+glad that Toby's gift seemed finer and more useful than his.
+
+It was only when the “Leap of Death” act preceding Polly's turn was
+announced, that the big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on the satchel
+and coat, and hid them away in the big property trunk. She would be out
+in a minute, and these wonders were not to be revealed to her until the
+close of the night's performance.
+
+Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon it, feeling like a
+criminal because he was hiding something from Polly.
+
+His consciousness of guilt was increased as he recalled how often she
+had forbidden Toby and himself to rush into reckless extravagances for
+her sake, and how she had been more nearly angry than he had ever seen
+her, when they had put their month's salaries together to buy her the
+spangled dress for her first appearance. It had taken a great many
+apologies and promises as to their future behaviour to calm her, and now
+they had again disobeyed her. It would be a great relief when to-night's
+ordeal was over.
+
+Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from the dressing tent and
+stopped to gaze at the nearby church steeple. The incongruity of the
+slang, that soon came from her delicately formed lips, was lost upon him
+as she turned her eyes toward him.
+
+“Say, Jim,” she said, with a Western drawl, “them's a funny lot of guys
+what goes to them church places, ain't they?”
+
+“Most everybody has got some kind of a bug,” Jim assented; “I guess they
+don't do much harm.”
+
+“'Member the time you took me into one of them places to get me out a
+the rain, the Sunday our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch WE butted
+into wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers no cause for worry with that show
+a' theirn, would they, Jim?” She looked at him with withering disgust.
+“Say, wasn't that the punkiest stunt that fellow in black was doin' on
+the platform? You said Joe was only ten minutes gettin' the tire onto
+our wheel, but say, you take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another
+ten minutes as long as that one, I'd be too old to go on a-ridin'.”
+
+Jim “'lowed” some church shows might be better than “that un,” but Polly
+said he could have her end of the bet, and summed up by declaring it no
+wonder that the yaps in these towns was daffy about circuses, if they
+didn't have nothin' better an' church shows to go to.
+
+One of the grooms was entering the lot with Polly's horse. She stooped
+to tighten one of her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw her sway
+slightly and put one hand to her head. He looked at her sharply,
+remembering her faintness in the parade that morning.
+
+“You ain't feeling right,” he said uneasily.
+
+“You just bet I am,” Polly answered with an independent toss of her
+head. “This is the night we're goin' to make them rubes in there sit up,
+ain't it, Bingo?” she added, placing one arm affectionately about the
+neck of the big, white horse that stood waiting near the entrance.
+
+“You bin ridin' too reckless lately,” said Jim, sternly, as he followed
+her. “I don't like it. There ain't no need of your puttin' in all them
+extra stunts. Your act is good enough without 'em. Nobody else ever done
+'em, an' nobody'd miss 'em if you left 'em out.”
+
+Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice. The music was swelling
+for her entrance.
+
+“You ain't my MOTHER, Jim, you're my GRANDmother,” she taunted; and,
+with a crack of her whip she was away on Bingo's back.
+
+“It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into her,” Jim mumbled as he
+turned away, still seeing the flash in the departing girl's eyes.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+Polly and Bingo always made the audience “sit up” when they swept into
+the ring. She was so young, so gaily clad, so light and joyous in all
+her poses. She seemed scarcely to touch the back of the white horse, as
+they dashed round the ring in the glare of the tent lights. The other
+performers went through their work mechanically while Polly rode, for
+they knew the audience was watching her only.
+
+As for Polly, her work had never lost its first interest. Jim may have
+been right when he said that the spirit of the dead mother had got into
+her; but it must have been an unsatisfied spirit, unable to fulfil its
+ambition in the body that once held it, for it sometimes played strange
+pranks with Polly. To-night, her eyes shone and her lips were parted in
+anticipation, as she leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers of
+the wheel of silken ribbons held by Barker in the centre of the ring,
+and by Toby and the “tumblers” on the edge of the bank.
+
+With each change of her act, the audience cheered and frantically
+applauded. The band played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the end of
+her turn was coming. The “tumblers” arranged themselves around the ring
+with paper hoops; Bingo was fairly racing. She went through the first
+hoop with a crash of tearing paper and cheers from the audience.
+
+“Heigh, Bingo!” she shouted, as she bent her knees to make ready for the
+final leap.
+
+Bingo's neck was stretched. He had never gone so fast before. Barker
+looked uneasy. Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed tricks. Jim
+watched anxiously from the entrance.
+
+The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken. The attendant turned his
+eyes to glance at the oncoming girl; the hoop shifted slightly in his
+clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from Bingo's back, trusting to
+her first calculation. Her forehead struck the edge of the hoop. She
+clutched wildly at the air. Bingo galloped on, and she fell to the
+ground, striking her head against the iron-bound stake at the edge of
+the ring.
+
+Everything stopped. There was a gasp of horror; the musicians dropped
+their instruments; Bingo halted and looked back uneasily; she lay
+unconscious and seemingly lifeless.
+
+A great cry went up in the tent. Panic-stricken, men, women and children
+began to clamber down from their seats, while others nearest the ground
+attempted to jump into the ring. Barker, still grasping his long whip,
+rushed to the girl's side, and shouted wildly to Toby:
+
+“Say something, you. Get 'em back!”
+
+Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, his features worked
+convulsively, but he could not speak. His grief was so grotesque, that
+the few who saw him laughed hysterically. He could not even go to Polly,
+his feet seemed pinned to the earth.
+
+Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the audience. He lifted the
+limp form tenderly, and kneeling in the ring held her bruised head in
+his hands.
+
+“Can't you get a doctor!” he shouted desperately to Barker.
+
+“Here's the doctor!” some one called; and a stranger came toward them.
+He bent over the seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on the tiny wrist,
+his ear to the heart.
+
+“Well, sir?” Jim faltered, for he had caught the puzzled look in the
+doctor's eyes as his deft hand pressed the cruelly wounded head.
+
+“I can't tell just yet,” said the doctor. “She must be taken away.”
+
+“Where can we take her?” asked Jim, a look of terror in his great,
+troubled eyes.
+
+“The parsonage is the nearest house,” said the doctor. “I am sure the
+pastor will be glad to have her there until we can find out how badly
+she is hurt.”
+
+In an instant Barker was back in the centre of the ring. He announced
+that Polly's injuries were slight, called the attention of the audience
+to the wonderful concert to take place, and bade them make ready for the
+thrilling chariot race which would end the show.
+
+Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden and staggered out of
+the tent, while the band played furiously and the people fell back
+into their seats. The Roman chariots thundered and clattered around the
+outside of the ring, the audience cheered the winner of the race, and
+for the moment Polly was forgotten.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+THE blare of the circus band had been a sore temptation to Mandy Jones
+all afternoon and evening. Again and again it had dragged her from
+her work to the study window, from which she could see the wonders so
+tantalisingly near. Mandy was housekeeper for the Rev. John Douglas,
+but the unwashed supper dishes did not trouble her, as she watched the
+lumbering elephants, the restless lions, the long-necked giraffes and
+the striped zebras, that came and went in the nearby circus lot. And
+yet, in spite of her own curiosity, she could not forgive her vagrant
+“worse half,” Hasty, who had been lured from duty early in the day. She
+had once dubbed him Hasty, in a spirit of derision, and the name had
+clung to him. The sarcasm seemed doubly appropriate to-night, for he had
+been away since ten that morning, and it was now past nine.
+
+The young pastor for a time had enjoyed Mandy's tirades against her
+husband, but when she began calling shrilly out of the window to chance
+acquaintances for news of him, he slipped quietly into the next room to
+finish to-morrow's sermon. Mandy renewed her operations at the window
+with increased vigour when the pastor had gone. She was barely saved
+from pitching head foremost into the lot, by the timely arrival of
+Deacon Strong's daughter, who managed, with difficulty, to connect the
+excited woman's feet with the floor.
+
+“Foh de Lor' sake!” Mandy gasped, as she stood panting for breath and
+blinking at the pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; “I was suah most gone
+dat time.” Then followed another outburst against the delinquent Hasty.
+
+But the deacon's daughter did not hear; her eyes were already wandering
+anxiously to the lights and the tinsel of the little world beyond the
+window.
+
+This was not the first time to-day that Mandy had found herself talking
+to space. There had been a steady stream of callers at the parsonage
+since eleven that morning, but she had long ago confided to the pastor
+that she suspected their reasons.
+
+“Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors,” she said, “and a-askin'
+why you don' stop de circus from a-showin' nex' to de church and den
+a-cranin' afar necks out de winder, till I can't get no housework done.”
+
+“That's only human nature,” Douglas had answered with a laugh; but
+Mandy had declared that she knew another name for it, and had mumbled
+something about “hypocritters,” as she seized her broom and began to
+sweep imaginary tracks from in front of the door.
+
+Many times she had made up her mind to let the next caller know just
+what she thought of “hypocritters,” but her determination was usually
+weakened by her still greater desire to excite increased wonder in the
+faces of her visitors.
+
+Divided between these two inclinations, she gazed at Julia now; the
+shining eyes of the deacon's daughter conquered, and she launched forth
+into an eager description of how she had just seen a “wondeful striped
+anamule” with a “pow'ful long neck walk right out of the tent,” and how
+he had “come apart afore her very eyes,” and two men had slipped “right
+out a' his insides.” Mandy was so carried away by her own eloquence and
+so busy showing Julia the sights beyond the window, that she did not
+hear Miss Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who entered, followed by
+the Widow Willoughby dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the hand.
+
+The women were protesting because their choir practice of “What
+Shall the Harvest Be?” had been interrupted by the unrequested
+acompaniment{sic} of the “hoochie coochie” from the nearby circus band.
+
+“It's scandalous!” Miss Perkins snapped. “Scandalous! And SOMEBODY ought
+to stop it.” She glanced about with an unmistakable air of grievance at
+the closed doors, feeling that the pastor was undoubtedly behind one of
+them, when he ought to be out taking action against the things that her
+soul abominated.
+
+“Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that _I_ could,” piped the widow, with
+a meek, martyred air. She was always martyred. She considered it an
+appropriate attitude for a widow. “He can't blame ME if the choir is out
+of key to-morrow.” “Mercy me!” interrupted the spinster, “if there isn't
+Julia Strong a-leaning right out of that window a-looking at the circus,
+and her pa a deacon of the church, and this the house of the pastor.
+It's shocking! I must go to her.”
+
+“Ma, let me see, too,” begged Willie, as he tugged at his mother's
+skirts.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby hesitated. Miss Perkins was certainly taking a long
+while for her argument with Julia. The glow from the red powder outside
+the window was positively alarming.
+
+“Dear me!” she said, “I wonder if there can be a fire.” And with this
+pretext for investigation, she, too, joined the little group at the
+window.
+
+A few moments later when Douglas entered for a fresh supply of paper,
+the backs of the company were toward him. He crossed to the study table
+without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to himself at the eager way
+in which they were hanging out of the window.
+
+Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and boyish in
+manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit. He had seemed too young
+to the deacons when he was appointed to their church, and his keen
+enjoyment of outdoor games and other healthful sports robbed him of a
+certain dignity in their eyes. Some of the women of the congregation had
+been inclined to side with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that
+the pastor found so many other interests when he might have been sitting
+in dark, stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had
+been either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had
+gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction of
+right, that had only left them floundering. He intended to quit the room
+now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset a chair as he turned
+from the table. This brought a chorus of exclamations from the women,
+who chattering rushed quickly toward him.
+
+“What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?” simpered the widow. “He
+dragged me quite to the window.”
+
+Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five-foot-six widow and then at
+the helpless, red-haired urchin by her side, but he made no comment
+beyond offering a chair to each of the women.
+
+“Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued,” declared Miss
+Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair, adjusted her skirts
+for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the parson, who had dutifully
+seated himself near the table.
+
+“I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody,” whimpered the widow,
+with an injured air; “but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What Shall the
+Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT.” She jerked her hand in
+the direction of the window. The band was again playing the “hoochie
+coochie.”
+
+“Never mind about the choir practice,” said Douglas, with a smile. “It
+is SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its music. As for that
+music out there, it is NOT without its compensations. Why, the small
+boys would rather hear that band than the finest church organ in the
+world.”
+
+“And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you preach,
+most likely,” snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult to injury for
+him to try to CONSOLE her.
+
+“Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if they'd only
+tell the truth about it,” said Douglas, laughing.
+
+“What!” exclaimed Miss Perkins.
+
+“Why not?” asked Douglas. “I am sure I don't know what they do inside
+the tents, but the parade looked very promising.”
+
+“The PARADE!” the two women echoed in one breath. “Did YOU see the
+parade?”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” said Douglas, enthusiastically. “But it didn't compare
+with the one I saw at the age of eight.” He turned his head to one side
+and looked into space with a reminiscent smile. The widow's red-haired
+boy crept close to him.
+
+“The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice,” he continued, dreamily,
+“the elephants huge as mountains, the great calliope wafted my soul to
+the very skies, and I followed that parade right into the circus lot.”
+
+“Did you seed inside de tent?” Willie asked, eagerly.
+
+“I didn't have enough money for that,” Douglas answered, frankly.
+He turned to the small boy and pinched his ear. There was sad
+disappointment in the youngster's face, but he brightened again, when
+the parson confessed that he “peeped.”
+
+“A parson peeping!” cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins.
+
+“I was not a parson then,” corrected Douglas, good-naturedly.
+
+“You were GOING to be,” persisted the spinster.
+
+“I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact.”
+
+The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion. He was looking very
+sheepish.
+
+“Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!” said Mandy.
+
+“Hasty, where have you been all day?” demanded Douglas, severely.
+
+Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time. “Did yo' say whar's I
+been, sah?”
+
+“Dat's what he done ast yo',” Mandy prompted, threateningly.
+
+“I bin 'ceived, Mars John,” declared Hasty, solemnly. Mandy snorted
+incredulously. Douglas waited.
+
+“A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis mawnin' dat ef I carry water
+fo' de el'phants, he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin', an' I make a
+'greement wid him. Mars John, did yo' ebber seed an' el'phant drink?” he
+asked, rolling his eyes. John shook his head.
+
+“Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once
+an--swish--water gone.”
+
+Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly.
+
+“Well, sah,” continued Hasty, “I tote water fo' dem el'phants all day
+long, an' when I cum roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't let me in.
+An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey pulls me out by de laigs an'
+beats me.” He looked from one to the other expecting sympathy.
+
+“Serves you right,” was Mandy's unfeeling reply. “If yo's so anxious to
+be a-totin' water, jes' yo' come along outside and tote some fo' Mandy.”
+
+“I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy,” protested Hasty. “I'se hurted in
+mah arm.”
+
+“What hurt yo'?”
+
+“Tiger.”
+
+“A tiger?” exclaimed the women in unison.
+
+“Done chawed it mos' off,” he declared, solemnly. “Deacon Elverson, he
+seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad.”
+
+“Deacon Elverson?” cried the spinster. “Was Deacon Elverson at the
+circus?”
+
+“He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me,” Hasty answered,
+innocently.
+
+“You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen,” said Douglas to Mandy, with
+a dry smile; “he's talking too much for a wounded man.”
+
+Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, advising him with fine scorn
+“to get de tiger to chew off his laigs, so's he wouldn't have to walk no
+mo'.”
+
+The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly. Elverson's
+behaviour was beyond their power of expression. Miss Perkins turned
+to the pastor, as though he were somehow to blame for the deacon's
+backsliding, but before she could find words to argue the point, the
+timid little deacon appeared in the doorway, utterly unconscious of the
+hostile reception that Hasty had prepared for him. He glanced nervously
+from one set face to the other, then coughed behind his hat.
+
+“We're all very much interested in the circus,” said Douglas. “Can't you
+tell us about it?”
+
+“I just went into the lot to look for my son,” stammered the deacon. “I
+feared Peter had strayed.”
+
+“Why, deacon,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “I just stopped by your house and
+saw Mrs. Elverson putting Peter to bed.”
+
+The deacon was saved from further embarrassment by an exclamation from
+Julia, who had stayed at the window. “Oh, look; something has happened!”
+ she cried. “There's a crowd. They are coming this way.”
+
+Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and saw an excited mob
+collecting before the entrance to the main tent. He had time to discover
+no more before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with excitement and
+rolling her large, white-rimmed eyeballs.
+
+“Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!” she cried.
+“Dr. Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?”
+
+“Of course,” said Douglas, hurrying outside.
+
+There were horrified exclamations from the women, who were aghast at the
+idea of a circus rider in the parsonage. In their helpless indignation,
+they turned upon the little deacon, feeling intuitively that he was
+enjoying the drama. Elverson was retreating toward the door when he was
+suddenly thrust aside by Douglas.
+
+In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of humanity, her
+slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder. The silk stocking was torn
+from one bruised ankle; her hair fell across her face, veiling it from
+the unfriendly glances of the women. Douglas passed out of sight up the
+stairway without looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor.
+
+Mandy reached the front door in time to push back a crowd of intruders.
+She had barely closed the door when it was thrust open by Jim.
+
+“Where is she?” he demanded.
+
+“Go 'way f'um here!” cried Mandy, as her eyes unconsciously sought the
+stairs.
+
+Jim followed the direction of her glance, and cleared the steps at a
+bound. Mandy pursued him, muttering angrily. Deacon Elverson, too, was
+about to follow, when a grim reminder from Miss Perkins brought him
+around and he made for the door instead. He started back on opening it,
+for standing on the threshold was a clown in his grotesque “make-up”;
+his white clothes were partially concealed by a large, travelling
+ulster, held together by one button. In one hand he carried a small
+leather satchel; in the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was
+thrown across his arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his mother's
+skirt were the only greetings received by the trembling old man in the
+doorway.
+
+He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other, waiting
+for a word of invitation to enter; but none came.
+
+“Excuse me,” he said; “I just brought some of her little things. She'd
+better put on her coat when she goes out. It's gettin' kinder chilly.”
+
+He looked again into the blank faces; still no one spoke. He stepped
+forward, trembling with anxiety. A sudden fear clutched at his heart,
+the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red painted lips began to
+quiver.
+
+“It ain't--It ain't that, is it?” he faltered, unable to utter the word
+that filled him with horror.
+
+Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the old
+man's voice. “I guess you will find the person you are looking for
+upstairs,” she answered tartly; and flounced out of the house, calling
+to Julia and the others to follow her, and declaring that she would soon
+let folks know how the parson had brought a “circus ridin' girl” into
+the parsonage.
+
+The painted clown stood alone, looking from one wall to the other, then
+he crossed the room and placed the alligator satchel and the little coat
+and hat on the study table. He was careful not to wrinkle the coat,
+for this was Polly's birthday gift. Jim and he had planned to have
+sandwiches and soda pop on the top of the big wagon when they offered
+their treasures tonight; but now the wagons would soon be leaving--and
+where was Polly? He turned to ask this question as Mandy came down the
+stairs.
+
+“Well, if dar ain't anudder one,” she cried.
+
+“Never mind, Mandy,” said Douglas, who was just behind her, carrying a
+small water pitcher, and searching for a bottle of brandy which had been
+placed in the medicine chest for emergencies.
+
+“You can take these upstairs,” he told her, when he had filled the
+pitcher with water and found the liquor. Mandy looked threateningly at
+Toby, then reluctantly went on her way.
+
+Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly. His was the first greeting
+that Toby had received, and he at last found voice to ask whether Polly
+was badly hurt.
+
+“The doctor hasn't told us yet,” said Douglas, kindly.
+
+“I'm her Uncle Toby--not her REAL uncle,” the old man explained, “but
+that's what she calls me. I couldn't come out right away, because I'm on
+in the concert. Could I see her now, please?”
+
+“Here's the doctor,” said Douglas, as Hartley came down the stairs,
+followed by Jim. “Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?”
+
+“Yes, rather bad,” said the doctor, adding quickly, as he saw the
+suffering in Toby's face, “but don't be alarmed. She's going to get
+well.”
+
+“How long will it be before we can have her back--before she can ride
+again?” asked Jim gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his brown, worn
+hat in his hands.
+
+“Probably several months,” said the doctor. “No bones are broken, but
+the ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received a bad blow on the
+head. It will be some time before she recovers consciousness.” “What are
+we goin' to do, Jim?” asked Toby, helplessly.
+
+“You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here,” said Douglas,
+seeing desperation written on their faces.
+
+“Here?” They looked at him incredulously.--And this was a parson!
+
+“Where are her parents?” the doctor asked, looking at Jim and Toby.
+
+“She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me,” replied Jim. “We've took
+care of her ever since she was a baby.”
+
+“Oh, I see,” said the doctor. “Well, one of you'd better stay here until
+she can be moved.”
+
+“That's the trouble; we can't,” said Toby, hanging his head. “You see,
+sir, circus folks is like soldiers. No matter what happens, the show has
+to go on, and we got to be in our places.”
+
+“Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here,” said the doctor. “It is a
+fortunate thing that Mr. Douglas can manage this. Our town hospital
+burned down a few months ago, and we've been rather puzzled as to what
+to do with such cases.” He took his leave with a cheery “Good night,”
+ and a promise to look in upon the little patient later. Jim shuffled
+awkwardly toward the pastor.
+
+“It's mighty good of you to do this,” he mumbled, “but she ain't goin'
+to be no charity patient. Me and Toby is goin' to look after her keep.”
+
+“Her wants will be very few,” Douglas answered, kindly. “You needn't
+trouble much about that.”
+
+“I mean it,” said Jim, savagely. He met Douglas's glance of surprise
+with a determined look, for he feared that his chance of being useful to
+Polly might be slipping out of his life.
+
+“You mustn't mind Jim,” the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. “You
+see pain gets some folks different from others; and it always kinder
+makes him savage.”
+
+“Oh, that's all right,” Douglas answered, quickly. His own life had
+been so lonely, that he could understand the selfish yearning in the big
+man's heart. “You must do what you think best about these things; Mandy
+and I will look after the rest.”
+
+Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen straight
+into his heart and discovered his petty weakness. He was about to turn
+toward the door when it was thrown open by Barker.
+
+“Where is she?” shouted the manager, looking from one to the other.
+
+“She can't come,” said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew the storm
+of opposition with which Barker would meet the announcement.
+
+“Can't come?” shrieked Barker. “Of course she'll come. I can't get along
+without her. She's GOT to come.” He looked at Jim, who remained silent
+and firm. “WHY ain't she comin'?” he asked, feeling himself already
+defeated.
+
+“She's hurt bad,” was Jim's laconic reply.
+
+“The devil she is!” said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation.
+“Is that right?”
+
+“She won't be able to travel for some time,” said Douglas.
+
+“Mr. Barker is our manager,” Toby explained, as he edged his way to the
+pastor's side.
+
+“Some time!” Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for
+their misfortune. “Well, you just bet she will,” he declared menacingly.
+
+“See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that,” said Jim, facing
+the manager. “He's darned square even if he is a parson.” Barker turned
+away. He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was irritated and upset at
+losing the star feature of his bill.
+
+“Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?” he muttered to himself, as his eye
+again travelled to the boss canvas-man. “You get out a' here, Jim,” he
+shouted, “an' start them wagons. The show's got to go on, Poll or no
+Poll.”
+
+He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a grudging
+thanks to the pastor. “It's all fired good of you to take her in,” he
+said, “but it's tough to lose her. Good night!” He banged the door and
+clattered down the steps.
+
+Jim waited. He was trying to find words in which to tell his gratitude.
+None came; and he turned to go with a short “good-bye!”
+
+“Good night, Jim,” said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the big
+fellow's hand.
+
+“Much obliged,” Jim answered gruffly. It was his only polite phrase, and
+he had taught Polly to say it. Douglas waited until Jim had passed down
+the steps, then turned to Toby, who still lingered near the table.
+
+“You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without sayin'
+'good-bye,' won't you, sir?” Toby pleaded.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” Douglas promised.
+
+“I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel.” He picked up
+the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's birthday gift. “Me
+an' Jim will be sendin' her more soon.”
+
+“You're going to miss her, I'm afraid,” Douglas said, feeling an
+irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence.
+
+“Lord bless you, yes, sir,” Toby answered, turning upon him eagerly.
+“Me an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about everythin' to that
+little one. She wan't much bigger'n a handful of peanuts when we begun
+a-worryin' about her.”
+
+“Well, Mandy will do the worrying now,” Douglas laughed. “She's been
+dying for a chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she even tried it
+on me.”
+
+“I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look kinder
+queer at me,” said Toby, “and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe they might
+feel the same about her.”
+
+“Oh, they're all right,” Douglas assured him; “they'll be her friends in
+no time.”
+
+“She's fit for 'em, sir,” Toby pleaded. “She's good, clean into the
+middle of her heart.”
+
+“I'm sure of it,” Douglas answered.
+
+“I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people, sir,
+and I jes' wanted ye to know that there ain't finer families, or better
+mothers or fathers or grandfathers or grandmothers anywhere than we got
+among us. Why, that girl's mother rode the horses afore her, and her
+mother afore that, and her grandmother and grandfather afore that,
+an' there ain't nobody what's cared more for their good name and their
+children's good name an' her people has. You see, sir, circus folks
+is all like that; they's jes' like one big family; they tends to their
+business and takes good care o' theirselves--they has to--or they
+couldn't do their work. It's 'cause I'm leavin' her with you that I'm
+sayin' all this,” the old man apologised.
+
+“I'm glad you told me, Toby,” Douglas answered, kindly. “I've never
+known much about circus folks.”
+
+“I guess I'd better be goin',” Toby faltered, as his eyes roved hungrily
+toward the stairway.
+
+“I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how she
+is.”
+
+“Indeed I will,” Douglas assured him, heartily.
+
+“You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so,” he added.
+
+“I'll tell her,” Douglas promised earnestly.
+
+“Good night!” The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable to find
+further pretext for staying.
+
+“Good night, Toby.” Douglas extended his hand toward the bent figure
+that was about to shuffle past him. The withered hand of the white-faced
+clown rested in the strong grasp of the pastor, and his pale, little
+eyes sought the face of the stalwart man before him; a numb desolation
+was growing in his heart; the object for which he had gone on day by day
+was being left behind and he must stumble forth into the night alone.
+
+“It's hard to leave her,” he mumbled; “but the show has got to go on.”
+
+The door shut out the bent, old figure. Douglas stood for some time
+where Toby had left him, still thinking of his prophetic words. His
+revery was broken by the sounds of the departing wagons, the low
+muttered curses of the drivers, the shrieking and roaring of the
+animals, as the circus train moved up the distant hill. “The show has
+got to go on,” he repeated as he crossed to his study table and seated
+himself for work in the dim light of the old-fashioned lamp. He put out
+one hand to draw the sheets of his interrupted sermon toward him, but
+instead it fell upon a small sailor hat. He twisted the hat absently in
+his fingers, not yet realising the new order of things that was coming
+into his life. Mandy tiptoed softly down the stairs. She placed one
+pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her large eyes skyward. “Dat
+sure am an angel chile straight from Hebben,” she whispered. “She done
+got a face jes' like a little flower.”
+
+“Straight from heaven,” Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly to the
+table and picked up the satchel and coat.
+
+“You can leave the lamp, Mandy--I must finish to-morrow's sermon.”
+
+She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as she saw
+the imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's face.
+
+“Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired,” she said.
+
+“No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy!”
+
+She closed the door behind her, and Douglas was alone. He gazed absently
+at the pages of his unfinished sermon as he tapped his idle pen on the
+desk. “The show has got to go on,” he repeated, and far up the hillside
+with the slow-moving wagons, Jim and Toby looked with unseeing eyes into
+the dim, star-lit distance, and echoed the thought: “The show has got to
+go on.”
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+THE church bells were ringing their first warning for the morning
+service when Mandy peeped into the spare bedroom for the second time,
+and glanced cautiously at the wisp of hair that bespoke a feminine
+head somewhere between the covers and the little white pillow on the
+four-poster bed. There was no sound from the sleeper, so Mandy ventured
+across the room on tiptoe and raised the shades. The drooping boughs of
+Autumn foliage lay shimmering against the window panes, and through them
+might be seen the grey outline of the church. Mandy glanced again toward
+the bed to make sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened
+the invalid, then crossed to a small, rickety chair, laden with the
+discarded finery of the little circus rider.
+
+“Lawdy sakes!” she cried, holding up a spangled dress, admiringly.
+“Ain't dat beautiful!” She drew near the mirror, attempting to see the
+reflection of the tinsel and chiffon against her very ample background
+of gingham and avoirdupois. “You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat on,
+Honey,” she chuckled to herself. “Wouldn't dem deacons holler if dey
+done see dat?”
+
+The picture of the deacons' astonishment at such a spectacle so grew
+upon Mandy, that she was obliged to cover her generous mouth to shut in
+her convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the little girl in the bed.
+She crossed to the old-fashioned bureau which for many months had stood
+unused against the wall. The drawer creaked as she opened it to lay away
+the gay, spangled gown.
+
+“It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on dem tings agin,” she
+said, with a doubtful shake of her large, round head.
+
+Then she went back to the chair and picked up Polly's sandals, and
+examined the bead-work with a great deal of interest. “Lawdy, lawdy!”
+ she cried, as she compared the size of the sandals to that of her
+own rough, worn shoes. She was again upon the point of exploding with
+laughter, as the church bell added a few, final and more emphatic clangs
+to its warning.
+
+She turned with a start, motioning a vain warning out of the window
+for the bell to be silent, but the little sleeper was already stirring
+uneasily on her pillow. One soft arm was thrown languidly over her head.
+The large, blue eyes opened and closed dreamily as she murmured the
+words of the clown song that Jim and Toby had taught her years ago:
+
+     “Ting ling,
+     That's what the bells sing----”
+
+Mandy reached the side of the bed as the girl's eyes opened a second
+time and met hers with a blank stare of astonishment. A tiny frown came
+into the small, white forehead.
+
+“What's the matter?” she asked faintly, trying to find something
+familiar in the black face before her.
+
+“Hush, child, hush,” Mandy whispered; “jes' you lie puffickly still.
+Dat's only de furs' bell a-ringin'.”
+
+“First bell?” the girl repeated, as her eyes travelled quickly about the
+strange walls and the unfamiliar fittings of the room. “This ain't the
+show!” she cried, suddenly.
+
+“Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show,” Mandy answered; and she laughed
+reassuringly.
+
+“Then where am I?” Polly asked, half breathless with bewilderment.
+
+“Nebber you mind 'bout dat,” was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply.
+
+“But I DO mind,” protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a sitting
+position. “Where's the bunch?”
+
+“De wat?” asked Mandy in surprise.
+
+“The bunch--Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!”
+
+“Lor' bless you!” Mandy exclaimed. “Dey's done gone 'long wid de circus,
+hours ago.”
+
+“Gone! Show gone!” Polly cried in amazement. “Then what am I doing
+here?”
+
+“Hole on dar, honey! hole on!” Mandy cautioned. “Don't you 'cite
+yo'se'f.”
+
+“Let me alone!” Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place a shawl
+around her. “I got to get out a-here.”
+
+“You'se got plenty o' time for dat,” Mandy answered, “yes' yo' wait
+awhile.”
+
+“I can't wait, and I won't!” Polly shrieked, almost beside herself with
+anxiety. “I got to get to the next burg--Wakefield, ain't it? What time
+is it? Let me alone! Let me go!” she cried, struggling desperately.
+
+The door opened softly and the young pastor stood looking down at the
+picture of the frail, white-faced child, and her black, determined
+captor.
+
+“Here, here! What's all this about?” he asked, in a firm tone, though
+evidently amused.
+
+“Who are you?” returned the girl, as she shoved herself quickly back
+against the pillows and drew the covers close under her chin, looking at
+him oddly over their top.
+
+“She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful,” Mandy explained, as she tried
+to regain enough breath for a new encounter.
+
+“Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly,” he said, with mock
+seriousness.
+
+“How do you know I'm Polly?” the little rebel asked, her eyes gleaming
+large and desperate above the friendly covers.
+
+“If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell you,”
+ he said, as he crossed to the bed.
+
+“I won't be quiet, not for nobody,” Polly objected, with a bold
+disregard of double negatives. “I got to get a move. If you ain't goin'
+to help me, you needn't butt in.”
+
+“I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet,” Douglas replied. He was
+beginning to perceive that there were tasks before him other than the
+shaping of Polly's character.
+
+“What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?” she asked, as she shot a
+glance of suspicion from the pastor to Mandy. “What am I up against?”
+
+“Don't yuh be scared, honey,” Mandy reassured her. “You's jes' as safe
+here as you done been in de circus.”
+
+“Safer, we hope,” Douglas added, with a smile.
+
+“Are you two bug?” Polly questioned, as she turned her head from one
+side to the other and studied them with a new idea. “Well, you can't get
+none the best of me. I can get away all right, and I will, too.”
+
+She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but fell back
+with a cry of pain.
+
+“Dar, dar,” Mandy murmured, putting the pillow under the poor, cramped
+neck, and smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's forehead. “Yuh done
+hurt yo'sef for suah dis time.”
+
+The pastor had taken a step toward the bed. His look of amusement had
+changed to one of pity.
+
+“You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad fall, and you can't get
+away just yet, nor see your friends until you are better.”
+
+“It's only a scratch,” Polly whimpered. “I can do my work; I got
+to.” One more feeble effort and she succumbed, with a faint “Jimminy
+Crickets!”
+
+“Uncle Toby told me that you were a very good little girl,” Douglas
+said, as he drew up a chair and sat down by her side, confident by the
+expression on her face that at last he was master of the situation. “Do
+you think he would like you to behave like this?”
+
+“I sure am on the blink,” she sighed, as she settled back wearily upon
+the pillow.
+
+“You'll be all right soon,” Douglas answered, cheerily. “Mandy and I
+will help the time to go.”
+
+“I recollect now,” Polly faltered, without hearing him. “It was the last
+hoop. Jim seemed to have a hunch I was goin' to be in for trouble when
+I went into the ring. Bingo must a felt it, too. He kept a-pullin' and
+a-jerkin' from the start. I got myself together to make the last jump
+an'--I can't remember no more.” Her head drooped and her eyes closed.
+
+“I wouldn't try just now if I were you,” Douglas answered tenderly.
+
+“It's my WHEEL, ain't it?” Polly questioned, after a pause.
+
+“Yoah what, chile?” Mandy exclaimed, as she turned from the table, where
+she had been rolling up the unused bandages left from the doctor's call
+the night before.
+
+“I say it's my creeper, my paddle,” Polly explained, trying to locate
+a few of her many pains. “Gee, but that hurts!” She tried to bend her
+ankle. “Is it punctured?”
+
+“Only sprained,” Douglas answered, striving to control his amusement at
+the expression on Mandy's puzzled face. “Better not talk any more about
+it.”
+
+“Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?” she asked, turning
+her head to one side and studying him quizzically.
+
+“I don't think there is,” he replied good-naturedly.
+
+“How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?” she asked, as she studied the
+walls of the unfamiliar room.
+
+“We brought you here.”
+
+“It's a swell place,” she conceded grudgingly.
+
+“We are comfortable,” he admitted, as a tell-tale smile again hovered
+about his lips. He was thinking of the changes that he must presently
+make in Miss Polly's vocabulary.
+
+“Is this the 'big top?' she asked.
+
+“The--what?” he stammered.
+
+“The main tent,” she explained.
+
+“Well, no; not exactly. It's going to be your room now, Miss Polly.”
+
+“My room! Gee! Think a' that!” she gasped, as the possibility of her
+actually having a room all of her own took hold of her mind. “Much
+obliged,” she said with a nod, feeling that something was expected of
+her. She knew no other phrase of gratitude than the one “Muvver” Jim and
+Toby had taught her to say to the manager when she received from him the
+first stick of red and white striped candy.
+
+“You're very welcome,” Douglas answered with a ring of genuine feeling
+in his voice.
+
+“Awful quiet, ain't it?” she ventured, after a pause. “Guess that's what
+woke me up.”
+
+Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the thought of quiet as a disturber,
+and added that he feared it might at first be rather dull for her, but
+that Jim and Toby would send her news of the circus, and that she could
+write to them as soon as she was better.
+
+“I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write much,”
+ Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
+
+“I will write for you,” the pastor volunteered, understanding her
+plight.
+
+“You will?” For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in her
+eyes.
+
+“Every day,” Douglas promised solemnly.
+
+“And you will show me how?”
+
+“Indeed I will.”
+
+“How long am I in for?” she asked.
+
+“The doctor can tell better about that when he comes.”
+
+“The doctor! So--it's as bad as that, eh?”
+
+“Oh, that need not frighten you,” Douglas answered consolingly.
+
+“I ain't frightened,” she bridled quickly; “I ain't never scared of
+nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm a-kickin'.”
+
+“Oh, they will get along all right,” he said reassuringly.
+
+“Get along?” Polly flashed with sudden resentment. “Get along WITHOUT
+MY ACT!” It was apparent from her look of astonishment that Douglas had
+completely lost whatever ground he had heretofore gained in her respect.
+“Say, have you seen that show?” She waited for his answer with pity and
+contempt.
+
+“No,” admitted John, weakly.
+
+“Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like
+that. I'm the whole thing in that push,” she said with an air of
+self-complacency; “and with me down and out, that show will be on the
+bum for fair.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” was all Douglas could say, confused by the sudden
+volley of unfamiliar words.
+
+“You're kiddin' me,” she said, turning her head to one side as was her
+wont when assailed by suspicion; “you MUST a seen me ride?”
+
+“No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus,” Douglas told her
+half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon him.
+
+“What!” cried Polly, incredulously.
+
+“Lordy no, chile; he ain't nebber seed none ob dem tings,” Mandy
+interrupted, as she tried to arrange a few short-stemmed posies in a
+variegated bouquet.
+
+“Well, what do you think of that!” Polly gasped. “You're the first rube
+I ever saw that hadn't.” She was looking at him as though he were a
+curiosity.
+
+“So I'm a rube!” Douglas shook his head with a sad, little smile and
+good-naturedly agreed that he had sometimes feared as much.
+
+“That's what we always calls a guy like you,” she explained ingenuously,
+and added hopefully: “Well, you MUST a' seen our parade--all the pikers
+see that--IT don't cost nothin'.”
+
+“I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the charge of being a piker,”
+ Douglas admitted half-sheepishly, “for I did see the parade.”
+
+“Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion cage,” she
+began excitedly. “You remember?”
+
+“It's a little confused in my mind--” he caught her look of amazement,
+“just AT PRESENT,” he stammered, feeling her wrath again about to
+descend upon him.
+
+“Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand,” she explained.
+
+“Sheet!” Mandy shrieked from her corner.
+
+“Yes--the billboards--the pictures,” Polly said, growing impatient at
+their persistent stupidity.
+
+“She sure am a funny talkin' thing!” mumbled Mandy to herself, as she
+clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window.
+
+“You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?” Polly asked with a
+lingering suspicion in her voice.
+
+“Dead sure”; and Douglas smiled to himself as he lapsed into her
+vernacular.
+
+There was a moment's pause. Polly realised for the first time that she
+must actually readjust herself to a new order of things. Her eyes
+again roved about the room. It was a cheerful place in which to be
+imprisoned--even Polly could not deny that. The broad window at the back
+with its white and pink chintz curtains on the inside, and its frame of
+ivy on the outside, spoke of singing birds and sunshine all day long.
+Everything from the white ceiling to the sweet-smelling matting that
+covered the floor was spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed rocker near
+the curved window-seat with its pretty pillows told of days when
+a convalescent might look in comfort at the garden beneath; the
+counterpane, with its old-fashioned rose pattern, the little white
+tidies on the back of each chair, and Mandy crooning beside the window,
+all helped to make a homelike picture.
+
+She wondered what Jim and Toby would say if they could see her now,
+sitting like a queen in the midst of her soft coverlets, with no need to
+raise even a finger to wait upon herself.
+
+“Ain't it the limit?” she sighed, and with that Jim and Toby seemed to
+drift farther away. She began to see their life apart from hers. She
+could picture Jim with his head in his hands. She could hear his sharp
+orders to the men. He was always short with the others when anything
+went wrong with her.
+
+“I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps,” she murmured, as a cloud stole
+across the flower-like face; then the tired muscles relaxed, and she
+ceased to rebel.
+
+“Muvver Jim”? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her to a
+knowledge of his presence.
+
+“That's what I calls him,” Polly explained, “but the fellows calls him
+'Big Jim.' You might not think Jim could be a good mother just to look
+at him, but he is; only, sometimes, you can't tell him things you could
+a real mother,” she added, half sadly.
+
+“And your real mother went away when you were very young?”
+
+“No, she didn't go AWAY----”
+
+“No?” There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice.
+
+“She went out,” Polly corrected.
+
+“Out!” he echoed blankly.
+
+“Yes--finished--Lights out.”
+
+“Oh, an accident.” Douglas understood at last.
+
+“I don't like to talk about it.” Polly raised herself on her elbow and
+looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit of forbidden
+family history. It was this look in the round eyes that had made Jim so
+often declare that the kid knew everything.
+
+“Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a knowed how she wound up. She
+was the best rider of her time, everybody says so, but she cashed in by
+fallin' off a skate what didn't have no more ginger 'an a kitten. If you
+can beat that?” She gazed at him with her lips pressed tightly together,
+evidently expecting some startling expression of wonder.
+
+“And your father?” Douglas asked rather lamely, being at a loss for
+any adequate comment upon a tragedy which the child before him was too
+desolate even to understand.
+
+“Oh, DAD'S finish was all right. He got his'n in a lion's cage where
+he worked. There was nothing slow about his end.” She looked up for his
+approval.
+
+“For de Lord's sake!” Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's
+conversation grew upon her.
+
+“And now I'm down and out,” Polly concluded with a sigh.
+
+“But THIS is nothing serious,” said the pastor, trying to cheer her.
+
+“It's serious ENOUGH, with a whole show a'-dependin' on you. Maybe you
+don't know how it feels to have to knock off work.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I do,” Douglas answered quickly. “I was ill a while ago
+myself. I had to be in bed day after day, thinking of dozens of things
+that I ought to be doing.”
+
+“Was you ever floored?” Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as she
+studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed.
+
+“'Deed he was, chile,” Mandy cried, feeling that her opportunity had
+now arrived; “an' I had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. He act jes'
+like you did.”
+
+“Did he?” Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had “nothin' on
+her,” as she would have put it.
+
+“You ought to have heard him,” continued Mandy, made eloquent by Polly's
+show of interest. “'What will dose poor folks do?' he kept a-sayin'.
+'yes' yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him. 'Dem poor folks will be better
+off dan dey would be a-comin' to yoah funeral.'”
+
+“Poor folks?” Polly questioned. “Do you give money to folks? We are
+always itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em.”
+
+Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his disapproved
+methods, Mandy had continued eagerly:
+
+“An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to church and preach--” She got
+no further. A sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and Douglas to
+attention.
+
+“Preach!” Polly almost shouted. She looked at him with genuine alarm
+this time.
+
+“That will do, Mandy,” Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome drama
+gathering about his head.
+
+“Great Barnum and Bailey!” Polly exclaimed, looking at him as though he
+were the very last thing in the world she had ever expected to see. “Are
+you a skypilot?”
+
+“That's what he am, chile.” Mandy slipped the words in slyly, for she
+knew that they were against the pastor's wishes, but she was unable
+to restrain her mischievous impulse to sow the seeds of curiosity that
+would soon bear fruit in the inquisitive mind of the little invalid.
+
+“Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?” She continued
+to study the uncomfortable man at her side. “I never thought I'd be
+a-talkin' to one of you guys. What's your name?”
+
+“Douglas.” He spoke shortly.
+
+“Ain't you got no handle to it?”
+
+“If you mean my Christian name, it's John.”
+
+“Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't look like I
+s'posed they did.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're a'most as
+good lookin' as our strong man.”
+
+“I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried parson,”
+ Mandy chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's discomfort.
+
+“Looks don't play a very important part in my work,” Douglas answered
+curtly. Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly anxious to get to
+a less personal topic.
+
+“Well, they count for a whole lot with us.” She nodded her head
+decidedly. “How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?”
+
+“About a year,” Douglas answered, with something of a sigh.
+
+“A year!” she gasped. “In a burg like this? You must have an awful lot
+of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long.” She was wise in
+the ways of professional success.
+
+“Not many, I'm afraid.” He wondered, for the first time, if this might
+be the reason for his rather indifferent success.
+
+“Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?”
+
+“A rep?” he repeated in surprise.
+
+“Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em. Uncle Toby's
+got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference in the big towns
+where you have a run.”
+
+“Oh, I understand,” Douglas answered in a tone of relief. “Well, I try
+to say something new each Sunday.”
+
+“What kind of spiels do you give 'em?” she inquired with growing
+interest.
+
+“I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves and to
+forget their week-day troubles.” He had never had occasion to define his
+efforts so minutely.
+
+“Well, that's jes' the same as us,” Polly told him with an air of
+condescension; “only circuses draws more people 'an churches.”
+
+“YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment,” Douglas
+answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were many tricks in
+the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. And, after all, what
+was his preaching but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to hold
+his congregation by what he was saying, his listeners grew drowsy,
+and his sermon fell short of its desired effect. It was true that
+his position and hers had points of similarity. She was apparently
+successful; as for himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very
+hard and that sometimes a tired mother or a sad-faced child looked up at
+him with a smile that made the service seem worth while.
+
+Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was
+quick to find consolation for him.
+
+“You ain't got all the worst of it,” she said. “If we tried to play a
+dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You certainly must
+give 'em a great show,” she added, surveying him with growing interest.
+
+“It doesn't make much difference about the show--” Douglas began, but he
+was quickly interrupted.
+
+“That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus. One year ye give 'em
+the rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the next year you
+hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that the way it is with a
+church show?”
+
+“Much the same,” Douglas admitted half-amusedly, half-regretfully. “Very
+often when I work the hardest, I seem to do the least good.”
+
+“I guess our troubles is pretty much alike.” Polly nodded with a
+motherly air of condescension. “Only there ain't so much danger in your
+act.”
+
+“I'm not so sure about that,” he laughed.
+
+“Well, you take my tip,” she leaned forward as though about to impart
+a very valuable bit of information. “Don't you never go in for ridin'.
+There ain't no act on earth so hard as a ridin' act. The rest of the
+bunch has got it easy alongside of us. Take the fellows on the trapeze.
+They always get their tackle up in jes' the same place. Take the
+balancin' acts; there ain't no difference in their layouts. Take any of
+'em as depends on regular props; and they ain't got much chance a-goin'
+wrong. But say, when yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't never no
+two times alike. If your horse is feelin' good, the ground is stumbly;
+if the ground ain't on the blink the horse is wobbly. Ther's always
+somethin' wrong somewheres, and yer ain't never knowin' how it's goin'
+ter end--especially when you got to do a careful act like mine. There's
+a girl, Eloise, in our bunch, what does a SHOWY act on a horse what
+Barker calls Barbarian. She goes on in my place sometimes--and say,
+them rubes applauds her as much as me, an' her stunts is baby tricks
+alongside o' mine. It's enough to make you sick o' art.” She shook her
+head dolefully, then sat up with renewed interest.
+
+“You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, an' you got ter know
+your horse an' your ground for that. Now you get wise ter what I'm
+a-tellin' yer, and don't you NEVER go into ANYTHIN' what depends on
+ANYTHIN' else.”
+
+“Thank you, Polly, I won't.” Douglas somehow felt that he was very much
+indebted to her.
+
+“I seen a church show once,” Polly said suddenly.
+
+“You did?” Douglas asked, with new interest.
+
+“Yes,” she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further comment.
+
+“Did you like it?” he questioned, after a pause.
+
+“Couldn't make nothin' out of it--I don't care much for readin'.”
+
+“Oh, it isn't ALL reading,” he corrected.
+
+“Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He got the whole thing right out
+of a book.”
+
+“Oh, that was only his text,” laughed Douglas. “Text?”
+
+“Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his congrega----”
+
+“Easy! Easy!” she interrupted; “come again with that, will you?”
+
+“He told them the meaning of what he read.” “Well, I don't know what
+he told 'em, but it didn't mean anythin' to me. But maybe your show is
+better'n his was,” she added, trying to pacify him.
+
+Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused or grateful for Polly's
+ever-increasing sympathy. Before he could trust his twitching lips to
+answer, she had put another question to him.
+
+“Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?”
+
+“I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this morning.”
+
+“Is this Sunday?” she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and looking
+about the room as though everything had changed colour.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And YOU GOT A MATINEE?” she exclaimed, incredulously.
+
+“We have services,” he corrected, gently.
+
+“WE rest up on SUNDAYS,” she said in a tone of deep commiseration.
+
+“Oh, I see,” he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon another
+discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two professions.
+
+“What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?”
+
+“About Ruth and Naomi.”
+
+“Ruth and who?”
+
+“Naomi,” he repeated.
+
+“Naomi,” she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she listened
+to the soft cadences of the word. “I never heard that name afore. It 'ud
+look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't it?”
+
+“It's a Bible name, honey,” Mandy said, eager to get into the
+conversation. “Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it.”
+
+“I LIKE to look at PICTURES,” Polly answered tentatively. Mandy crossed
+the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel engravings.
+
+“We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt. Some of the
+folks is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't.”
+
+She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend, but just
+then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large, old-fashioned Bible, and
+Douglas helped to place the ponderous book before the invalid.
+
+“See, honey, dar dey is,” the old woman said, pointing to the picture of
+Ruth and Naomi.
+
+“Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?” Polly gasped, and her eyes shone with
+wonder. “Which one 's Ruth?”
+
+“Dis one,” said Mandy, pointing with her thumb.
+
+“Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does it say
+about 'em?”
+
+“You can read it for yourself,” Douglas answered gently. There was
+something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little mind.
+
+“Well, I ain't much on readin'--OUT LOUD,” she faltered, growing
+suddenly conscious of her deficiencies. “Read it for me, will you?”
+
+“Certainly,” and he drew his chair nearer to the bed. One strong hand
+supported the other half of the Bible, and his head was very near to
+hers as his deep, full voice pronounced the solemn words in which Ruth
+pleaded so many years before.
+
+“'Entreat me not to leave thee,'” he read, “'or to return from following
+after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I
+will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'”
+
+He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines.
+
+“Kind o' pretty, ain't it?” Polly said softly. She felt awkward and
+constrained and a little overawed.
+
+“There are far more beautiful things than that,” Douglas assured her
+enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears.
+
+“There are?” And her eyes opened wide with wonder.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” he replied, pitying more and more the starvation of mind
+and longing to bring to it floods of light and enrichment.
+
+“I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel,” and she fell to studying him
+solemnly.
+
+“You would?” he asked eagerly.
+
+“Is there any more to that story?” she asked, ignoring his question.
+
+“Yes, indeed.”
+
+“Would you read me a little more?” She was very humble now.
+
+“Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so
+to me and more also, if ought but death part me and thee.'”
+
+Their eyes met. There was a long pause. Suddenly the sharp, sweet notes
+of the church bell brought John Douglas to his feet with a start of
+surprise.
+
+“Have you got to go?” Polly asked regretfully.
+
+“Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the church. Open the window,
+Mandy!” And he passed out of the door and quickly down the stairs.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate his nephew for the
+ministry, the boy was less enthusiastic than his mother. He did not
+remonstrate, however, for it had been the custom of generations for at
+least one son of each Douglas family to preach the gospel of Calvinism,
+and his father's career as an architect and landscape gardener had not
+left him much capital.
+
+Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an artist by the few who
+understood his talents, but there is small demand for the builder of
+picturesque houses in the little business towns of the Middle West, and
+at last he passed away, leaving his son only the burden of his financial
+failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the profession in which his
+father had fared so badly. The hopeless, defeated look on the departed
+man's face had always haunted the boy, who was artist enough to feel his
+father's genius intuitively, and human enough to resent the injustice of
+his fate.
+
+Douglas's mother had suffered so much because of the impractical efforts
+of her husband, that she discouraged the early tendencies of the son
+toward drawing and mathematics and tried to direct his thoughts toward
+creeds and Bible history. When he went away for his collegiate course,
+she was less in touch with him; and he was able to steal time from his
+athletics to devote to his art. He spent his vacations in a neighbouring
+city before a drawing board in the office of a distinguished architect,
+his father's friend.
+
+Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, and he was relieved when
+at last he received his degree in theology and found himself appointed
+to a small church in the Middle West.
+
+His step was very bright the morning he first went up the path that
+led to his new home. His artistic sense was charmed by the picturesque
+approach to the church and parsonage. The view toward the tree-encircled
+spire was unobstructed, for the church had been built on the outskirts
+of the town to allow for a growth that had not materialised. He threw
+up his head and gazed at the blue hills, with their background of soft,
+slow-moving clouds. The smell of the fresh earth, the bursting of the
+buds, the forming of new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was
+very near to pain.
+
+He stopped half way up the path and considered the advantages of a new
+front to the narrow-eaved cottage, and when his foot touched the first
+step of the vine-covered porch, he was far more concerned about a new
+portico than with any thought of his first sermon.
+
+His speculations were abruptly cut short by Mandy, who bustled out
+of the door with a wide smile of welcome on her black face, and an
+unmistakable ambition to take him immediately under her motherly wing.
+She was much concerned because the church people had not met the new
+pastor at the station and brought him to the house. Upon learning that
+Douglas had purposely avoided their escort, preferring to come to his
+new home the first time alone, she made up her mind that she was going
+to like him.
+
+Mandy had long been a fixture in the parsonage. She and her worse half,
+Hasty Jones, had come to know and discuss the weaknesses of the many
+clergymen who had come and gone, the deacons, and the congregation, both
+individually and collectively. She confided to Hasty, that she “didn't
+blame de new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd.”
+
+In the study that night, when she and Hasty helped Douglas to unpack his
+many boxes of books, they were as eager as children about the drawings
+and pictures which he showed them. His mind had gone beyond the
+parsonage front now, and he described to them the advantage of adding an
+extra ten feet to the church spire.
+
+Mandy felt herself almost an artist when she and Hasty bade the pastor
+good night, for she was still quivering from the contagion of Douglas's
+enthusiasm. Here, at last, was a master who could do something besides
+find fault with her.
+
+“I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat Mars Douglas and dat
+ere Deacon Strong clinches,” she said to Hasty as they locked the
+doors and turned out the hall light. “Did yuh done see his jaw?” she
+whispered. “He look laughin' enough NOW, but jes' yuh wait till he done
+set dat'ere jaw a his'n and afar ain't nobody what's goin' ter unsot
+it.”
+
+“Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin',” said Hasty, hoping for
+Mandy's assurance to the contrary.
+
+“What?” shrieked Mandy. “Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby already
+a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' proper?”
+
+“Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere widow?” asked Hasty,
+already enjoying the explosion which he knew his defence of the widow
+was sure to excite.
+
+“I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 'bout her clean floors,”
+ answered Mandy, shortly. She turned out the last light, and tiptoed
+upstairs, trying not to disturb the pastor.
+
+John Douglas was busy already with pencil and paper, making notes of
+the plans for the church and parsonage, which he would perfect later
+on. Alas, for Douglas's day dreams! It was not many weeks before he
+understood with a heavy heart that the deacons were far too dull and
+uninspired to share his faith in beauty as an aid to man's spiritual
+uplift.
+
+“We think we've done pretty well by this church,” said Deacon Strong,
+who was the business head, the political boss, and the moral mentor
+of the small town's affairs. “Just you worry along with the preachin',
+young man, and we'll attend to the buyin' and buildin' operations.”
+
+Douglas's mind was too active to content itself wholly with the writing
+of sermons and the routine of formal, pastoral calls. He was a keen
+humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be interested in the heart
+stories and disappointments of many of the village unfortunates, some of
+whom were outside his congregation. The mentally sick, the despondent,
+who needed words of hope and courage more than dry talks on theology,
+found in him an ever ready friend and adviser, and these came to love
+and depend on him. But he was never popular with the creed-bound element
+of the church.
+
+Mandy had her wish about being on the spot the first time that the
+parson's jaw squared itself at Deacon Strong. The deacon had called
+at the parsonage to demand that Douglas put a stop to the boys playing
+baseball in the adjoining lot on Sunday. Douglas had been unable to see
+the deacon's point of view. He declared that baseball was a healthy and
+harmless form of exercise, that the air was meant to be breathed, and
+that the boys who enjoyed the game on Sunday were principally those who
+were kept indoors by work on other days. The close of the interview was
+unsatisfactory both to Douglas and the deacon.
+
+“Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up an' down de back,” Mandy
+said later, when she described their talk to Hasty. “Dat 'ere deacon
+don' know nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson.” She tossed her head
+with a feeling of superiority. She knew the way. Make him forget himself
+with a laugh. Excite his sympathy with some village underdog.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+MANDY had secretly enjoyed the commotion caused by the little
+circus-rider being left in the parsonage, at first, because of her
+inborn love of mischief, and later, because Polly had become second in
+her heart only to the pastor. She went about her work, crooning softly
+during the days of Polly's convalescence. The deep, steady voice of
+the pastor reading aloud in the pretty window overhead was company. She
+would often climb the stairs to tell them some bit of village gossip,
+and leave them laughing at a quaint comment about some inquisitive
+sister of the church, who had happened to incur her displeasure.
+
+As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly down to the sun-lit garden
+beneath the window; and Mandy fluttered about arranging the cushions
+with motherly solicitude.
+
+More days slipped by, and Polly began to creep through the little,
+soft-leaved trees at the back of the church, and to look for the deep,
+blue, sweet-scented violets. When she was able, Douglas took her with
+him to visit some of the outlying houses of the poor. Her woman's
+instinct was quick to perceive many small needs in their lives that he
+had overlooked, and to suggest simple, inexpensive joys that made them
+her devoted friends.
+
+Their evenings were divided between making plans for these unfortunates
+and reading aloud from the Bible or other books.
+
+When Polly gained courage, Douglas sometimes persuaded her to read to
+him--and the little corrections that he made at these times soon became
+noticeable in her manner of speech. She was so eager, so starved for
+knowledge, that she drank it as fast as he could give it. It was during
+their talks about grammar that Mandy generally fell asleep in her
+rocker, her unfinished sewing still in her lap.
+
+When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was always shared equally by
+Mandy and Hasty, Polly and the pastor. But at last a letter came from
+Jim only, and Douglas, who was asked to read it, faltered and stopped
+after the first few words.
+
+“It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any longer, Poll,” the letter
+began, “we ain't got Toby with us no more. He didn't have no accident,
+it wasn't that. He just seemed kinder sick and ailin' like, ever since
+the night we had to leave you behind. I used to get him warm drinks and
+things, and try to pull 'im through, but he was always a-chillin' and
+a-achin'. If it wasn't one thing the matter, it was another. I done
+all I knowed you'd a-wanted me to, an' the rest of the folks was mighty
+white to him, too. I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he was. He
+couldn't get no more laughs in the show, so Barker had to put on another
+man with him. That kinder hurt him too--I s'pose--an' showed him the
+way that things was a-goin'. It was just after that, he wrote the parson
+a-tellin' him to never let you come back. He seemed to a' got an idee in
+his head that you was happier where you was. He wouldn't let me tell ye
+'bout his feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might mebbe make you
+come back. 'She's diff'runt from us,' he was allus a-sayin'. 'I never
+'spected to keep 'er.'”
+
+Douglas stopped. Polly was waiting, her face white and drawn. He had not
+told her of Toby's letter, because with it had come a request to “say
+nothin' to the kid.”
+
+He felt that Polly was controlling herself with an effort until he
+should reach the end of Jim's letter, so he hurried on.
+
+“The parson's promise didn't get to him none too quick,” he read. “That
+seemed to be what he was waitin' for. He give up the night it come, and
+I got him a little room in a hotel after the show, and let one of the
+other fellers get the stuff out o' town, so's I could stay with him up
+to the finish. It come 'round mornin'. There wasn't much to it--he just
+seemed tired and peaceful like. 'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' he
+said, meanin' the parson. 'She knows, she allus knows,' he whispered,
+meanin' you, Poll, and then he was on his way. He'd already give me what
+was saved up for you, and I'm sendin' it along with this--” A blue money
+order for two hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from the envelope
+when Douglas opened it.
+
+“I got everythin' ready afore I went on the next day, an' I went up and
+saw the little spot on the hill where they was goin' to stow him. It
+looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said she'd put some flowers on
+to it now and then. It was YOU what made me think o' that, Poll, 'cause
+it seemed to me what you would a' done; you was always so daffy about
+flowers, you and him.
+
+“I guess this letter's too long for me to be a-sayin' much about the
+show, but the 'Leap-a-Death' girl got hern last week. She wasn't strong
+enough for the job, nohow. I done what I could for her outside the show,
+'cause I knowed how you was always a-feelin' 'bout her. I guess the
+'Leap-a-Death's' husband is goin' to jump his job soon, if he gets
+enough saved up, 'cause him and Barker can't hit it off no more. We got
+a good deal o' trouble among the animals, too. None o' the snakes is
+sheddin' like they ought to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot
+bandage around that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too fresh with Trixy's
+grub the other night, and the new giraffe's got the croup in that
+seven-foot neck o' his'n. I guess you'll think I got the pip for fair
+this time, so I'll just get onto myself now and cut this short. I'll be
+writin' you agin when we hit Morgantown.
+
+“Your old Muvver Jim.”
+
+
+Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still resting upon
+it. He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken figure in the opposite
+chair. Polly had made no sound, but her head had slipped lower and lower
+and she now sat very quietly with her face in her hands. She had been
+taught by Toby and Jim never to whimper.
+
+“What a plucky lot they are,” thought Douglas, as he considered these
+three lonely souls, each accepting whatever fate brought with no
+rebellion or even surprise. It was a strange world of stoics in which
+these children of the amusement arena fought and lost. They came and
+went like phantoms, with as little consciousness of their own best
+interests as of the great, moving powers of the world about them. They
+felt no throes of envy, no bitterness. They loved and worked and “went
+their way.”
+
+For once the pastor was powerless in the presence of grief. Both he and
+Mandy left the room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to be spared the
+outburst of tears that a sympathetic word might bring upon her. They
+allowed her to remain alone for a time, then Mandy entered softly with a
+tender good night and Douglas followed her cheerily as though nothing at
+all had happened.
+
+It was many weeks before Polly again became a companion to Douglas and
+Mandy, but they did not intrude upon her grief. They waited patiently
+for the time when youth should again assert itself, and bring back their
+laughing mate to them.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+When Polly understood that Toby was ACTUALLY GONE, it seemed to her
+that she could never laugh again. She had been too young to realise the
+inevitableness of death when it came to her mother, and now she could
+scarcely believe that Toby would never, never come back to her. She felt
+that she must be able to DRAG him back, that she could not go on without
+him. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was for all his care of
+her. She thought of the thousand little things that she might have done
+for him. She longed to recall every impatient word to him. His gentle
+reproachful eyes were always haunting her. “You must come back, Toby!”
+ she cried. “You must!”
+
+It was only when body and mind had worn themselves out with yearning,
+that a numbness at last crept over her, and out of this grew a
+gradual consciousness of things about her and a returning sense of her
+obligation to others. She tried to answer in her old, smiling way and to
+keep her mind upon what they were saying, instead of letting it wander
+away to the past.
+
+Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the colour creeping back to her
+cheeks.
+
+She joined the pastor again in his visits to the poor. The women of
+the town would often see them passing and would either whisper to
+each other, shrug their shoulders, or lift their eyebrows with smiling
+insinuations; but Polly and the pastor were too much absorbed in each
+other to take much notice of what was going on about them.
+
+They had not gone for their walk to-day, because Mandy had needed Polly
+to help make ready for the social to be held in the Sunday-school-room
+to-night.
+
+Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas shut himself up in
+the study, and she was sure that he was writing; so when the village
+children stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's new-made cookies,
+she used her customary trick to get them away. “Tag--you're it!” she
+cried, and then dashed out the back door, pursued by the laughing,
+screaming youngsters. Mandy followed the children to the porch and stood
+looking after them, as the mad, little band scurried about the back
+yard, darted in and out amongst the trees, then up the side of the
+wooded hill, just beyond the church.
+
+The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day
+the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer dresses.
+Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by comparison with the
+children about her. She wore a plain, simple gown of white, which Mandy
+had helped her to make. It had been cut ankle-length, for Polly was now
+seventeen. Her quaint, old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her
+trick of knotting her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem
+older.
+
+Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill, then
+began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty had left
+under the vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at the parsonage. A
+social always meant perturbation for Mandy. She called sharply to Hasty,
+as he came down the path which made a short cut to the village:
+
+“So's you'se back, is you?” she asked, sarcastically.
+
+“Sure, I'se back,” answered Hasty, good-naturedly, as he sank upon an
+empty box that had held some things for the social, and pretended to
+wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
+
+“Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago,” said Mandy,
+as she took the letters and papers from his hand. “Five minutes is
+plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job.”
+
+“I done been detained,” Hasty drawled.
+
+“You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on,” Mandy snapped at
+him.
+
+“Whar's Miss Polly?” Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to work.
+
+“Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you done
+fetch that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room.”
+
+“But I wants her,” Hasty insisted. “I'se been on very 'ticular business
+what she ought to know 'bout.”
+
+“Business?” she repeated. “What kind ob business?”
+
+“I got to fix de Sunday-school-room,” said Hasty, as he perceived her
+growing curiosity.
+
+“You come heah, nigger!” Mandy called, determined that none of the
+village doings should escape her. “Out wid it!”
+
+“Well, it's 'bout de circus,” Hasty answered? seating himself again
+on the box. “Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next month dey's
+comin' here.”
+
+“Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?” Mandy's eyes grew
+large with curiosity.
+
+“De very same,” and Hasty nodded mysteriously.
+
+“How you know dat?” Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him.
+
+“'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show painted on
+it. It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all de pictures what dey
+pastes up.”
+
+“And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?”
+
+“I done thought Miss Polly might want to know.”
+
+“See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions into Miss
+Polly's head. She don' care no more 'bout dem things since her Uncle
+Toby done die. She done been satisfied right whar she am. Jes' you let
+her be.”
+
+“I ain't done nothin',” Hasty protested.
+
+“Nebber do do nothin',” growled Mandy. “Go long now, and get a-work.
+Mos' four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready yet.”
+
+Hasty picked up the empty box and the step-ladder and went out through
+the gate. He had barely disappeared when a peal of laughter was heard
+from the hillside, and before Mandy could get out of the way, the
+youngsters came tumbling down the path again.
+
+“Lawsy, lawsy,” she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging the
+children. “You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey.”
+
+“Tag! you're it!” Polly cried, as she touched the widow's auburn-haired
+offspring on the sleeve. There was much wailing when Willie passed the
+tag to little Jennie, the smallest girl in the crowd.
+
+“I won't play no more,” she sobbed; “'cause I's always it.”
+
+To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old circus song that the children
+had learned to love; and the little ones huddled about her in a circle
+to hear of the wonderful “Van Amberg” who used to “walk right into the
+lion's cage and put his head in the lion's mouth.” The children were in
+a state of nerves that did credit to Polly as an entertainer, when Hasty
+broke in upon the song.
+
+“When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'.”
+
+“I have one right now.” And turning to the eager mites at her side,
+Polly told them to run along into the grove, and that she'd come pretty
+soon to teach them a new game.
+
+The youngsters went screaming and laughing on their way, and she
+breathed a sigh of relief as she threw herself down on the rustic seat
+that encircled the elm tree.
+
+“What is it, Hasty?” she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble with
+Mandy.
+
+“It's 'bout de circus,” Hasty informed her bluntly.
+
+“The circus?” She rose and crossed to him quickly.
+
+“It's in Wakefield--en' nex' month it's a-comin' here.”
+
+“Here?” Polly gasped.
+
+“I thought you'd want ter know,” said Hasty, little surprised at her
+lack of enthusiasm.
+
+“Yes, of course.” She turned away and pretended to look at the flowers.
+
+“Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus,” said Hasty,
+uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake; but
+before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the house, carrying baskets
+and food, which Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. She looked
+at the girl's troubled face and drooping shoulders in surprise.
+
+“What make you look so serious, Honey?”
+
+“Just thinking,” said Polly absently.
+
+“My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!” She was anxious to draw the
+girl out of her reverie.
+
+“Do you like it?” Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a
+moment before. “Do you think Mr. John will like it?”
+
+“Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. I done
+got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you think HE ebber
+seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve
+for all dat man know.” Polly looked disappointed. “But udder folks
+sees,” Mandy continued, comfortingly, “an' you certainly look mighty
+fine. Why, you's just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!”
+
+“Yes, I'm well now and able to work again.” There was no enthusiasm in
+her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how unwelcome the old
+life would be to her.
+
+“Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Massa
+John.”
+
+“Do you think so? Do I help him?--Do I?”
+
+“Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school what
+the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a
+lot of things what nobody else could a-learned 'im.”
+
+“You mustn't say 'learned him,'” Polly corrected; “you must say 'taught
+him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them.”
+
+“Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat.” She rolled her large eyes at her young
+instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. “She's gwine ter
+have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells” thought Mandy, and she made ready
+to protest.
+
+“See here, ain't you nebber----”
+
+She was interrupted by a quick “Have you never” from Polly.
+
+“It dun make no difference what you say,” Mandy snapped, “so long as
+folks understands you.” She always grew restive under these ordeals; but
+Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered.
+
+“Oh, yes, it does,” answered Polly. “I used to think it didn't; but
+it does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks look down on
+you.”
+
+“I's satisfied de way I be,” declared Mandy, as she plumped herself down
+on the garden bench and began to fidget with resentment.
+
+“The way I am,” Polly persisted, sweetly.
+
+“See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' keepin de
+light burnin'?”
+
+“You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens set----”
+
+“So do I,” interrupted Mandy; “I's doin' it NOW.” For a time she
+preserved an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. “If I
+had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open my mouth, I'd
+done been tongue-tied afore I was born.”
+
+“I could teach you in no time,” volunteered Polly, eagerly.
+
+“I don't want to be teached,” protested Mandy, doggedly. “Hast Jones
+says I's too smart anyhow. Men don't like women knowin' too much--it
+skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, and I ain't a-tryin' to get
+nobody else's,” Mandy wound up flatly.
+
+“But he'd like you all the better,” persisted Polly, laughing.
+
+“I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO nigger,” snapped Mandy. “I's a
+busy woman, I is.” She made for the house, then curiosity conquered her
+and she came back to Polly's side. “See here, honey, whose been l'arnin'
+you all dem nonsense?”
+
+“I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all the things he tells me, and at
+night I write them down and say them over. Do you see this, Mandy?” She
+took a small red book from her belt and put it into Mandy's black chubby
+fists.
+
+“I see some writin', if dat's what you mean,” Mandy answered,
+helplessly.
+
+“These are my don'ts,” Polly confided, as she pointed enthusiastically
+to worn pages of finely written notes.
+
+“You'se WHAT, chile?”
+
+“The things I mustn't do or say.”
+
+“An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?” Mandy looked
+incredulous.
+
+“I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me,” she said with growing
+pride.
+
+“Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for----”
+
+“Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?” Polly pointed reproachfully to the
+reminder in the little red book. It was a fortunate thing that Willie
+interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's temper was becoming
+very uncertain. The children had grown weary waiting for Polly, and
+Willie had been sent to fetch her. Polly offered to help Mandy with the
+decorations, but Willie won the day, and she was running away hand in
+hand with him when Douglas came out of the house.
+
+“Wait a minute!” he called. “My, how fine you look!” He turned Polly
+about and surveyed the new gown admiringly.
+
+“He did see it! He did see it!” cried Polly, gleefully.
+
+“Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?”
+
+“You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come,” Mandy grunted.
+
+“Come, Willie!” called the girl, and ran out laughing through the trees.
+
+“What's this?” Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward fingers,
+and began to read: “'Hens set--'” He frowned.
+
+“Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,'” interrupted Mandy, disgustedly.
+
+“Her 'don'ts'?”
+
+“She done been set--sit--settin' up nights tryin' to learn what you done
+tole her,” stuttered Mandy.
+
+“Dear little Polly,” he murmured, then closed the book and put it into
+his pocket.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby came
+through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage, carrying bunting
+for the social. She was followed by Miss Perkins with a bucket of
+pickles, which Mandy promptly placed on top of Mrs. Elverson's ice
+cream. The women explained that they had come to put the finishing
+touches to the decorations. If anything was needed to increase Mandy's
+dislike of the widow, it was this announcement.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not been
+home since the afternoon school session. Upon learning that they were
+with Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and Douglas dispatched
+Mandy for them. She saw that her implied distrust of Polly had annoyed
+him, and she was about to apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on
+the scene, also carrying baskets and parcels for the social.
+
+Strong led the way. He always led the way and always told Elverson what
+to think. They had been talking excitedly as they neared the parsonage,
+for Strong disapproved of the recent changes which the pastor had made
+in the church service. He and Douglas had clashed more than once since
+the baseball argument, and the deacon had realised more and more that
+he had met a will quite as strong as his own. His failure to bend the
+parson to his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his
+mind from his business.
+
+“Can you beat that!” he would exclaim as he turned away from some
+disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.
+
+Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in her
+direction as she came running into the garden, leading the widow's two
+children.
+
+She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the gate, then
+hurried to Mrs. Willoughby, begging that the children be allowed to
+remain a little longer. She was making up a new game, she said, and
+needed Willie and Jennie for the set.
+
+“My children do not play in promiscuous games,” said the widow, icily.
+
+“Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro”--Polly stammered. “It's a new game. You
+put two here, and two here, and----”
+
+“I don't care to know.” The widow turned away, and pretended to talk to
+Julia.
+
+“Oh!” gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff.
+
+She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle. The blood flew
+from her cheeks, then she turned to go.
+
+Douglas stepped quickly to her side. “Wait a minute,” he said. She
+paused, all eyes were turned upon them. “Is this a game that grown-ups
+can play?”
+
+“Why, yes, of course.”
+
+“Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need a little amusement just now.
+Excuse me,” he added, turning to the deacons. Then he ran with her out
+through the trees.
+
+The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast.
+
+“Well, what do you think of that?” said Mrs. Willoughby, as the flying
+skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man disappeared up the
+path.
+
+“I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me,” said Miss Perkins.
+“The idea of a full-grown parson a-runnin' off to play children's games
+with a circus ridin' girl!”
+
+“She isn't such a child,” sneered Julia.
+
+“It's ENOUGH to make folks talk,” put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a sly
+look at the deacons.
+
+“And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service,” bellowed Strong.
+
+“And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message,” piped Elverson.
+
+“The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was sick,”
+ snapped Miss Perkins. “But now she's perfectly well, and still a-hanging
+on. No wonder folks are talking.”
+
+“Who's talking?” thundered Strong.
+
+“Didn't you know?” simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself nor
+caring, so long as the suspicion grew.
+
+“Know what?” yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby floundered. Miss
+Perkins rushed into the breach.
+
+“Well, if _I_ was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know
+something about what's going on in it.”
+
+“What IS goin' on?” shrieked the now desperate deacon.
+
+The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged knowing glances, then shook
+their heads at his hopeless stupidity.
+
+Strong was not accustomed to criticism. He prided himself upon his
+acuteness, and was, above all, vain about his connection with the
+church. He looked from one woman to the other. He was seething with
+helpless rage. The little deacon at his side coughed nervously. Strong's
+pent up wrath exploded. “Why didn't YOU tell me, Elverson, that people
+was a-talkin',” he roared in the frightened man's ear.
+
+Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing definite came of the
+sounds; so Strong again turned to Miss Perkins:
+
+“What is going on?” he demanded.
+
+The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes heavenward,
+knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as this mysterious
+inference of things too terrible to mention. She was right. Strong
+uttered a desperate “Bah!” and began pacing up and down the garden with
+reckless strides.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he came to a
+halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering sweetness.
+
+“What COULD folks say?” she asked. “A minister and a young circus riding
+girl living here like this with no one to--” She found no words at this
+point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, declared that the congregation
+should have no further cause for gossip, and went out quickly in search
+of Douglas.
+
+When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the women, and
+attempted a weak apology for the pastor. “I dare say the young man was
+very lonely--very--before she came.”
+
+“Lonely?” snapped Miss Perkins. “Well, if HE was LONELY, _I_ didn't know
+it.”
+
+The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong.
+
+The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland smiles to
+the Sunday-school-room, feeling that they had accomplished enough for
+the time being.
+
+Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the pastor.
+They turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld Douglas,
+hatless, tearing down the path. Strong called to him, but Douglas
+darted quickly behind the hedge. The deacons looked at one another in
+speechless astonishment. Presently the silence was broken by the distant
+voice of Polly counting from one to one hundred. The secret was out! The
+pastor, a leader of the church, was playing hide-and-seek.
+
+“Mr. Douglas!” shouted Strong, when his breath had returned.
+
+“Hush, hush!” whispered Douglas, looking over the hedge. He peeped
+cautiously about him, then came toward the men with a sigh of relief.
+“It's all right. She has gone the other way.”
+
+“It'll be a good thing for you if she never comes back,” said Strong,
+and Douglas's quick ear caught an unpleasant meaning in his tone.
+
+“What's that?” the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice.
+
+“We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I want to
+talk to you about 'em.”
+
+“Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key.”
+
+“Never mind about the key,” shouted Strong, angrily.
+
+“But I DO mind.” Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his voice.
+
+“We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay here?”
+
+“Indeed! And why?” The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his jaw
+was becoming very square.
+
+“Because she's been here long enough.”
+
+“I don't agree with you there.”
+
+“Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not. She's got to
+go.”
+
+“Go?” echoed Douglas.
+
+“Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to that.”
+
+“And who do you mean by 'we'?”
+
+“The members of this congregation,” replied Strong, impatiently.
+
+“Am I to understand that YOU are speaking for THEM?” There was a deep
+frown between the young pastor's eyes. He was beginning to be perplexed.
+
+“Yes, and as deacon of this church.”
+
+“Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me that
+that is MY affair.”
+
+“Your affair!” shouted Strong. “When that girl is living under the
+church's roof, eating the church's bread!”
+
+“Just one moment! You don't quite understand. I am minister of this
+church, and for that position I receive, or am supposed to receive, a
+salary to live on, and this parsonage, rent free, to live in. Any
+guests that I may have here are MY guests, and NOT guests of the church.
+Remember that, please.”
+
+There was an embarrassing silence. The deacons recalled that the
+pastor's salary WAS slightly in arrears. Elverson coughed meekly. Strong
+started.
+
+“You keep out of this, Elverson!” he cried. “I'm running this affair and
+I ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's.”
+
+“I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it,” answered Douglas, turning
+away and dismissing the matter.
+
+“Your duty is to your church,” thundered Strong.
+
+“You're right about that, Deacon Strong'” answered Douglas, wheeling
+about sharply, “and my duty to the church is reason enough for my acting
+exactly as I am doing in this case.”
+
+“Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl here?”
+
+“No, there are other reasons.”
+
+“I thought so.”
+
+“You've heard her story--you MUST have heard. She was left with me by an
+old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. Before he died
+he asked me to look after her. She has no one else. I shall certainly do
+so.”
+
+“That was when she was hurt. She's well now, and able to go back where
+she came from. Do you expect us to have our young folks associatin' with
+a circus ridin' girl?”
+
+“So, that's it!” cried the pastor, with a pitying look. “You think this
+child is unfit for your homes because she was once in a circus. For
+some reason, circus to you spells crime. You call yourself a Christian,
+Deacon Strong, and yet you insist that I send a good, innocent girl
+back to a life which you say is sinful. I'm ashamed of you, Strong--I'm
+ashamed of you!”
+
+“That talk don't do no good with me,” roared Strong. He was desperate at
+being accused of an unchristian attitude.
+
+“I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus. I don't care WHERE
+you send her. Get her away from HERE, that's all.”
+
+“Not so long as she wishes to stay.”
+
+“You won't?” Strong saw that he must try a new attack. He came close to
+Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation. “If you was a friend to
+the girl, you wouldn't want the whole congregation a-pointin' fingers at
+her.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks bad--bad for
+the girl, and bad for YOU--and folks is talkin'.”
+
+“Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough to
+think that I--” Douglas stopped. He could not frame the question. “I
+don't believe it,” he concluded shortly.
+
+“You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl.”
+
+“Do YOU believe it?” He turned upon the little man at his side! “Do you
+believe it, Elverson?”
+
+Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the conversation,
+that he had become hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and the
+sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his power of speech. He was still
+gurgling and sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.
+
+“It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're going to do
+our duty by the church, and that girl must leave or----”
+
+“Or I must.” Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. “That
+threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have said,
+I should refuse to remain in this church”--the deacon stepped forward
+eagerly--“were it not that I realise more than ever before how much
+you need me, how much you ignorant, narrow-minded creatures need to
+be taught the meaning of true Christianity.” The deacon was plainly
+disappointed.
+
+“Is it possible?” gasped Elverson, weakly.
+
+“Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Strong, when he could
+trust himself to speak again.
+
+“I shall do what is best for Miss Polly,” said the pastor quietly but
+firmly.
+
+He turned away to show that the interview was at an end. Strong followed
+him. Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to be mistaken.
+“Good afternoon, deacon.”
+
+Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then at the gate, then at the
+pastor again. “I'll go,” he shouted; “but it ain't the end!” He slammed
+the gate behind him.
+
+“Quite so, quite so,” chirped Elverson, not having the slightest idea of
+what he was saying. He saw the frigid expression on the pastor's face,
+he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+Douglas dropped wearily onto the rustic bench. He sat with drooped head
+and unseeing eyes. He did not hear Polly as she scurried down the path,
+her arms filled with autumn leaves. She glanced at him, dropped the
+bright-coloured foliage, and slipped quickly to the nearest tree. “One,
+two, three for Mr. John,” she cried, as she patted the huge, brown
+trunk.
+
+“Is that you, Polly?” he asked absently.
+
+“Now, it's your turn to catch me,” she said, lingering near the tree.
+The pastor was again lost in thought. “Aren't you going to play any
+more?” There was a shade of disappointment in her voice. She came slowly
+to his side.
+
+“Sit here, Polly,” he answered gravely, pointing to a place on the
+bench. “I want to talk to you.”
+
+“Now, I've done something wrong,” she pouted. She gathered up her
+garlands and brought them to a place near his feet, ignoring the seat at
+his side. “You might just as well tell me and get it over.”
+
+“You couldn't do anything wrong,” he answered, looking down at her.
+
+“Oh, yes, I could--and I've done it--I can see it in your face. What is
+it?”
+
+“What have you there?” he asked, trying to gain time, and not knowing
+how to broach the subject that in justice to her must be discussed.
+
+“Some leaves to make garlands for the social,” Polly answered more
+cheerfully. “Would you mind holding this?” She gave him one end of a
+string of leaves.
+
+“Where are the children?”
+
+“Gone home.”
+
+“You like the children very much, don't you, Polly?” Douglas was
+striving for a path that might lead them to the subject that was
+troubling him.
+
+“Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them.” She looked at him with tender
+eyes.
+
+“You're the greatest baby of all.” A puzzled line came between his eyes
+as he studied her more closely. “And yet, you're not such a child, are
+you, Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a young lady.” He looked at
+her from a strange, unwelcome point of view. She was all of that as she
+sat at his feet, yearning and slender and fair, at the turning of her
+seventeenth year.
+
+“I wonder how you would like to go way?” Her eyes met his in terror.
+“Away to a great school,” he added quickly, flinching from the very
+first hurt that he had inflicted; “where there are a lot of other young
+ladies.”
+
+“Is it a place where you would be?” She looked up at him anxiously. She
+wondered if his “show” was about to “move on.”
+
+“I'm afraid not,” Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy heart.
+
+“I wouldn't like any place without you,” she said decidedly, and seemed
+to consider the subject dismissed.
+
+“But if it was for your GOOD,” Douglas persisted.
+
+“It could never be for my good to leave you.”
+
+“But just for a little while,” he pleaded. How was she ever to
+understand? How could he take from her the sense of security that he had
+purposely taught her to feel in his house?
+
+“Not even for a moment,” Polly answered, with a decided shake of her
+head.
+
+“But you must get ahead in your studies,” he argued.
+
+She looked at him anxiously. She was beginning to be alarmed at his
+persistence.
+
+“Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games.”
+
+“Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous.”
+
+“Pro-mis-cuous,” she repeated, haltingly. “What does that mean?”
+
+“Indiscriminate.” He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled look on
+her face. “Mixed up,” he explained, more simply.
+
+“Our game wasn't mixed up.” She was thinking of the one to which the
+widow had objected. “Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?”
+
+“It depends upon whom you catch,” he answered with a dry, whimsical
+smile.
+
+“Well, I don't catch anybody but the children.” She looked up at him
+with serious, inquiring eyes.
+
+“Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous.” She did not hear
+him. She was searching for her book.
+
+“Is this what you are looking for?” he asked, drawing the missing
+article from his pocket.
+
+“Oh!” cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. “Mandy told you.”
+
+“You've been working a long time on that.”
+
+“I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me,” she
+answered, timidly. “But I don't suppose I could.”
+
+“I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly.”
+
+“Do I?” she cried, eagerly.
+
+“I can help more if you will only let me. I can teach a bigger class in
+Sunday-school now. I got to the book of Ruth to-day.”
+
+“You did?” He pretended to be astonished. He was anxious to encourage
+her enthusiasm.
+
+“Um hum!” She answered solemnly. A dreamy look came into her eyes. “Do
+you remember the part that you read to me the first day I came?” He
+nodded. He was thinking how care-free they were that day. How impossible
+such problems as the present one would have seemed then. “I know every
+bit of what you read by heart. It's our next Sunday-school lesson.”
+
+“So it is.”
+
+“Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?” She looked
+up into his troubled face.
+
+“We'll see, we'll see,” he murmured, then tried to turn her mind
+toward other things. “Come now, let's find out whether you DO know your
+Sunday-school lesson. How does it begin?” There was no answer. She had
+turned away with trembling lips. “And Ruth said”--he took her two small
+hands and drew her face toward him, meaning to prompt her.
+
+“Entreat me not to leave thee,” she pleaded. Her eyes met his. His face
+was close to hers. The small features before him were quivering with
+emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so easily within his grasp. His
+muscles grew tense and his lips closed firmly. He was battling with an
+impulse to draw her toward him and comfort her in the shelter of his
+strong, brave arms. “They shan't!” he cried, starting toward her.
+
+Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had heard and seen the things
+revealed to each of us only once. She would never again be a child.
+
+Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench.
+
+“What was the rest of the lesson?” he asked in a firm, hard voice.
+
+“I can't say it now,” Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her white
+lids fluttered and closed.
+
+“Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, I'll help you.” Douglas spoke
+sharply. He was almost vexed with her and with himself for the weakness
+that was so near overcoming them. “And Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to
+leave thee----'”
+
+“'Or to return from following after thee.'” She was struggling to keep
+back the tears. “'For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou
+lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my'
+“--She stopped.
+
+“That's right, go on,” said Douglas, striving to control the
+unsteadiness in his own voice.
+
+“Where thou diest, will I die'”--her arms went out blindly.
+
+“Oh, you won't send me away, will you?” she sobbed. “I don't want to
+learn anything else just--except--from you.” She covered her face and
+slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet.
+
+In an instant the pastor's strong arms were about her, his stalwart body
+was supporting her. “You shan't go away. I won't let you--I won't! Do
+you hear me, Polly? I won't!”
+
+Her breath was warm against his cheek. He could feel her tears, her arms
+about him, as she clung to him helplessly, sobbing and quivering in the
+shelter of his strong embrace. “You are never going to leave me--never!”
+
+A new purpose had come into his life, the realisation of a new
+necessity, and he knew that the fight which he must henceforth make for
+this child was the same that he must make for himself.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI
+
+“I'se goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take off dat ere widow's
+finishin' touches,” said Mandy, as she came down the steps.
+
+“All right!” called Douglas. “Take these with you, perhaps they may
+help.” He gathered up the garlands which Polly had left on the ground.
+His eyes were shining, he looked younger than Mandy had ever seen him.
+
+Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and crossed to
+the elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying to control her
+newly awakened emotions. Douglas felt intuitively that she needed this
+moment for recovery, so he piled the leaves and garlands high in Mandy's
+arms, then ran into the house with the light step of a boy.
+
+“I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up,” said Mandy as she shot a
+sly glance at Polly.
+
+“That's good,” Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling and
+blushing guiltily.
+
+“Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de parsonage
+to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room, whar dey belongs.
+Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin'
+de parson as how folks could jes' eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I
+ups an' tells her as how folks could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n
+MANDY'S floor, too. Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore
+Mandy to-night.” She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the
+Sunday-school-room.
+
+Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her. She hardly knew which
+way to turn. She was happy, yet afraid. She felt like sinking upon her
+knees and begging God to be good to her, to help her. She who had once
+been so independent, so self-reliant, now felt the need of direction
+from above. She was no longer master of her own soul, something had
+gone from her, something that would never, never come again. While
+she hesitated, Hasty came through the gate looking anxiously over his
+shoulder.
+
+“Well, Hasty?” she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had something
+important on his mind.
+
+“It's de big one from de circus,” he whispered, excitedly.
+
+“The big one?”
+
+“You know--De one what brung you.”
+
+“You don't mean--?” Polly's question was answered by Jim himself who had
+followed Hasty quickly through the gate. Their arms were instantly about
+each other. Jim forgot Hasty and every one in the world except Polly,
+and neither of them noticed the horrified Miss Perkins and the Widow
+Willoughby, who had been crossing the yard on their way from the
+Sunday-school-room with Julia.
+
+“You're just as big as ever,” said Polly, when she could let go of Jim
+long enough to look at him. “You haven't changed a bit.”
+
+“You've changed enough for both of us.” He looked at the unfamiliar long
+skirts and the new way of doing her hair. “You're bigger, Poll; more
+grown up like.”
+
+“Oh, Jim!” She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the rather
+startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's buttonhole.
+
+“The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if I was a-comin' to see
+you, so as not to make you ashamed of me. Do you like 'em?” he asked,
+looking down approvingly at his new brown clothes.
+
+“Very much.” For the first time Jim noticed the unfamiliar manner of her
+speech. He began to feel self-conscious. A year ago she would have said,
+“You bet!” He looked at her awkwardly. She hurried on: “Hasty told me
+you were showing in Wakefield. I knew you'd come to see me. How's Barker
+and all the boys?” She stopped with a catch in her throat, and added
+more slowly: “I suppose everything's different, now that Toby is gone.”
+
+“He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in,” Jim answered; “but
+maybe it was just as well he didn't. You'd hardly a-knowed him toward
+the last, he got so thin an' peeked like. He wasn't the same after we
+lost you, nobody was, not even Bingo.”
+
+“Have you still got Bingo?” she asked, through her tears.
+
+“Yep, we got him,” drawled Jim, “but he ain't much good no more. None
+of the other riders can get used to his gait like you was. There ain't
+nobody with the show what can touch you ridin', there never will be.
+Say, mebbe you think Barker won't let out a yell when he sees yer comin'
+back.” Jim was jubilant now, and he let out a little yell of his own at
+the mere thought of her return. He was too excited to notice the look
+on Polly's face. “Toby had a notion before he died that you was never
+a-comin' back, but I told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, and
+when Barker sent me over here to-day to look arter the advertisin',
+he said he guessed you'd had all you wanted a' church folks. 'Jes' you
+bring her along to Wakefield,' he said, 'an' tell her that her place
+is waitin' for her,' and I will, too.” He turned upon Polly with sudden
+decision. “Why, I feel jes' like pickin' yer up in my arms and carryin'
+you right off now.”
+
+“Wait, Jim!” She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him.
+
+“I don't mean--not--to-day--mebbe”--he stammered, uncertainly, “but
+we'll be back here a-showin' next month.”
+
+“Don't look at me now,” Polly answered, as the dog-like eyes searched
+her face, “because I have to say something that is going to hurt you,
+Jim.”
+
+“You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?” The big face was wrinkled and
+care-worn with trouble.
+
+“No, Jim,” she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely hear her.
+
+“You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?” He tried to realise what
+such a decision might mean to him.
+
+“No, Jim.” She answered tenderly, for she dreaded the pain that she must
+cause the great, good-hearted fellow. “You mustn't care like that,” she
+pleaded, seeing the blank desolation that had come into his face. “It
+isn't because I don't love you just the same, and it was good of Barker
+to keep my place for me, but I can't go back.”
+
+He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve. “Why, Jim, when I
+lie in my little room up there at night”--she glanced toward the window
+above them--“and everything is peaceful and still, I think how it used
+to be in the old days, the awful noise and the rush of it all, the
+cheerless wagons, the mob in the tent, the ring with its blazing lights,
+the whirling round and round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops,
+till my head got dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the
+show, and the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble
+of the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the animals,
+and then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I riding through the
+streets in tights, Jim! Tights!” She covered her face to shut out the
+memory. “I couldn't go back to it, Jim! I just couldn't!” She turned
+away, her face still hidden in her hands. He looked at her a long while
+in silence.
+
+“I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it,” he said doggedly.
+
+“You aren't ANGRY, Jim?” She turned to him anxiously, her eyes pleading
+for his forgiveness.
+
+“Angry?” he echoed, almost bitterly. “I guess it couldn't ever come
+to that a-tween you an' me. I'll be all right.” He shrugged his great
+shoulders. “It's just kinder sudden, that's all. You see, I never
+figured on givin' yer up, and when you said you wasn't comin' back, it
+kinder seemed as though I couldn't see nothin' all my life but long,
+dusty roads, and nobody in 'em. But it's all right now, and I'll just be
+gettin' along to the wagon.”
+
+“But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas,” Polly protested, trying to
+keep him with her until she could think of some way to comfort him.
+
+“I'll look in on him comin' back,” said Jim, anxious to be alone with
+his disappointment. He was out of the gate before she could stop him.
+
+“Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you.” She watched
+him going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into his brown coat
+pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes. He did not look back, as he
+used to do, to wave a parting farewell, and she turned toward the house
+with a troubled heart. She had reached the lower step when Strong and
+Elverson approached her from the direction of the church.
+
+“Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?” demanded Strong.
+
+She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong assured
+her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop her if she wished
+to go. He saw the blank look on her face. “We ain't tryin' to pry into
+none of your private affairs,” he explained; “but my daughter saw you
+and that there feller a makin' up to each other. If you're calculatin'
+to run away with him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by
+doin' it quick.”
+
+“The parson!”
+
+“YOU can't blame the congregation for not wantin' him to keep you here.
+You got sense enough to see how it looks. HE'D see it, too, if he wasn't
+just plain, bull-headed. Well he'd better get over his stubbornness
+right now, if he don't we'll get another minister, that's all.”
+
+“Another minister? You don't mean--?” It was clear enough now. She
+recalled Douglas's troubled look of an hour ago. She remembered how he
+had asked if she couldn't go away. It was this that he meant when he
+promised not to give her up, no matter what happened. In an instant
+she was at the deacon's side pleading and terrified. “You wouldn't get
+another minister! Oh, please, Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! You
+were right about Jim, he DID come to get me and I am going back to the
+circus--only you won't send Mr. Douglas away, you won't! Say you won't!”
+ She was searching his eyes for mercy. “It wasn't HIS fault that I kept
+staying on. He didn't know how to get rid of me. He DID try, he tried
+only to-day.”
+
+“So he's comin' 'round,” sneered Strong.
+
+“Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, will you?” she hurried on
+anxiously. “You'll let him stay, no matter what he does, if I promise to
+go away and never, never come back again?”
+
+“I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him,” Strong grumbled. “He talks
+pretty rough sometimes, but he's been a good enough minister. I ain't
+forgettin' that.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, Mr. Strong, thank you. I'll get my things; it won't take
+a minute.” She was running up the steps when a sudden thought stopped
+her. She returned quickly to Strong. “We'd better not let him know just
+yet. You can tell him afterward. Tell him that I ran away--Tell him
+that----”
+
+She was interrupted by Douglas, who came from the house. “Hello, Strong,
+back again?” he asked, in some surprise. Polly remained with her eyes
+fixed upon the deacon, searching for some way of escape. The pastor
+approached; she burst into nervous laughter. “What's the joke?” Douglas
+asked.
+
+“It's only a little surprise that the deacon and I are planning.” She
+tried to control the catch in her voice. “You'll know about it soon,
+won't he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr. Strong!” She flew into the house,
+laughing hysterically.
+
+Douglas followed her to the steps with a puzzled frown. It was unlike
+Polly to give way to her moods before others. “Have you gentlemen
+changed your minds about the little girl staying on?” he asked,
+uneasily.
+
+“It's all right now,” said Strong, seating himself with a complacent
+air.
+
+“All right? How so?” questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by the
+deacon's evident satisfaction.
+
+“Because,” said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, “because your
+circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord.”
+
+“Have you been talking to that girl?” asked Douglas, sternly.
+
+“I have,” said Strong, holding his ground.
+
+“See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may forget
+that I'm a minister.” The knuckles on Douglas's large fists grew whiter.
+
+“She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said either.
+She's goin' back to the circus.”
+
+“I don't believe you.”
+
+“You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just
+a-callin' on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and a-promisin'
+that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he come back.”
+
+“You lie!” cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating deacon.
+
+“There's the fellow now,” cried Strong, as he pointed to the gate.
+“Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar.”
+
+Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching. His face lighted up with
+relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow.
+
+“How are yer, Mr. Douglas?” said Jim, awkwardly.
+
+“You've seen Polly?” asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the hand.
+
+“Yes, I've seen her.”
+
+“The deacon here has an idea that Polly is going back to the circus with
+you.” He nodded toward Strong, almost laughing at the surprise in store
+for him.
+
+“Back to the circus?” asked Jim.
+
+“Did she say anything to you about it?” He was worried by the
+bewilderment in Jim's manner.
+
+Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached the steps in time to
+catch the last few words, slipped quickly between them. She wore her
+coat and hat, and carried a small brown satchel.
+
+“Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?” she said, turning her back upon the
+pastor and motioning to Jim not to answer. Douglas gazed at her in
+astonishment.
+
+“What do you mean?” he asked in a hoarse, strained voice. He glanced at
+the coat and hat. “Where are you going?”
+
+Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim.
+
+“What made you come back? Why didn't you wait for me down the street?
+Now, you've spoiled everything.” She pretended to be very vexed with
+him. The big fellow looked puzzled. He tried to protest, but she put a
+warning finger to her lips and pressed the little brown satchel into his
+hand. “It's no use,” she went on hurriedly. “We might as well tell them
+everything now.” She turned to Douglas and pretended to laugh. “You have
+found us out.”
+
+The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead was
+deepening.
+
+“Oh, see how serious he looks,” she teased, with a toss of her head
+toward the grim-visaged pastor.
+
+“Is this some trick?” he demanded, sternly.
+
+“Don't be angry,” she pleaded. “Wish me luck.”
+
+She held out one small hand; he did not take it. She wavered, then she
+felt the eyes of the deacons upon her. Courage returned and she spoke in
+a firm, clear voice: “I am going to run away.”
+
+Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly.
+
+“Run away?” he exclaimed incredulously.
+
+“Yes, to the circus with Jim.”
+
+“You couldn't DO such a thing,” he answered, excitedly. “Why, only a
+moment ago you told me you would never leave me.”
+
+“Oh, but that was a moment ago,” she cried, in a strained, high voice.
+“That was before Jim came. You see, I didn't know HOW I felt until I saw
+Jim and heard all about my old friends, how Barker is keeping my place
+for me, and how they all want to see me. And I want to see them, and
+to hear the music and the laughter and the clown songs--Oh, the clown
+songs!” She waltzed about, humming the snatch of melody that Mandy had
+heard the morning that Polly first woke in the parsonage.
+
+        “Ting, ling.
+        That's how the bells ring,
+        Ting, ling, pretty young thing.”
+
+She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, and gazed at them with a
+brave, little smile. “Oh, it's going to be fine! Fine!”
+
+“You don't know what you're doing,” said Douglas. He seized her roughly
+by the arm. Pain was making him brutal. “I won't LET you go! Do you hear
+me? I won't--not until you've thought it over.”
+
+“I have thought it over,” Polly answered, meeting his eyes and trying
+to speak lightly. Her lips trembled. She could not bear for him to
+think her so ungrateful. She remembered his great kindness; the many
+thoughtful acts that had made the past year so precious to her.
+
+“You've been awfully good to me, Mr. John.” She tried to choke back a
+sob. “I'll never forget it--never! I'll always feel the same toward you.
+But you mustn't ask me to stay. I want to get back to them that knew me
+first--to my OWN! Circus folks aren't cut out for parsons' homes, and
+I was born in the circus. I love it--I love it!” She felt her strength
+going, and cried out wildly: “I want Bingo! I want to go round and round
+the ring! I want the lights and the music and the hoops! I want the
+shrieks of the animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at
+night! I want to ride in the big parade! I want to live and die--just
+die--as circus folks die! I want to go back! I want to go back!”
+
+She put out one trembling hand to Jim and rushed quickly through the
+gate laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling to him to follow.
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+LONELY days followed Polly's desertion of the parsonage. Mandy went
+about her duties very quietly, feeling that the little comments which
+once amused the pastor had now become an interruption to thoughts in
+which she had no part. He would sit for hours with his head in his
+hands, taking no notice of what passed before him. She tried to think of
+new dishes to tempt his appetite, and shook her head sadly as she bore
+the untasted food back to the kitchen.
+
+She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings lying open upon his study
+table. She remembered the zeal with which he had planned to remodel the
+church and parsonage, when he first came to them; how his enthusiasm had
+gradually died for lack of encouragement; and how he had at last put
+his books in a cupboard, where they grew dusty from long neglect. She
+marvelled at their reappearance now, but something in his set, far-away
+look made her afraid to inquire. Thus she went on from day to day,
+growing more impatient with Hasty and more silent with the pastor.
+
+Mandy needed humor and companionship to oil the wheels of her humdrum
+life; there was no more laughter in the house, and she began to droop.
+
+Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the complacency
+of the village was again upset by the arrival of the “Great American
+Circus.”
+
+There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for speculation was
+now at fever heat about the pastor. “Would he try to see her? had he
+forgotten her? and what had he ever found in her?” were a few of the
+many questions that the women were asking each other. Now, that the
+cause of their envy was removed, they would gladly have reinstated the
+pastor as their idol; for, like all truly feminine souls, they could
+not bear to see a man unhappy without wishing to comfort him, nor happy
+unless they were the direct cause of his state. “How dare any man be
+happy without me?” has been the cry of each woman since Eve was created
+to mate with Adam.
+
+Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of Polly's
+disappearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons or their recent
+disapproval of him. He avoided meeting them oftener than duty required;
+and Strong felt so uncomfortable and tongue-tied in his presence that
+he, too, was glad to make their talks as few as possible.
+
+Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or about his
+continued connection with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood
+was on the point of exploding from an over-accumulation of unanswered
+questions.
+
+He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor, listened
+to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his parishioners, and shut himself
+up with his books or walked alone on the hill behind the church.
+
+He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus lot for
+the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance was closing.
+It had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss Polly was not in the
+parade that morning, and to know that the pastor had made no effort
+to find out about her. For weeks both she and Hasty had hoped that the
+return of the circus might bring Polly back to them; but now it was
+nearly night and there had been no word from her. Why didn't she come
+running in to see them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the
+pastor stayed away on the hills all day?
+
+Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so finally she
+drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held her small wad of
+savings, and told Hasty “to go long to de show and find out 'bout Miss
+Polly.”
+
+She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at the
+door for the second time that afternoon.
+
+“Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked.
+
+“No, sah, he ain't,” said Mandy, very shortly. She felt that Strong
+and Elverson had been “a-tryin' to spy on de parson all day,” and she
+resented their visits more than she usually did.
+
+“What time are you expectin' him?”
+
+“I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him.”
+
+Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps. She saw from the
+window that he met Elverson in front of the church.
+
+“Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble,” she mumbled.
+
+The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had straggled
+down the street. She opened the door and stood on the porch; the house
+seemed to suffocate her. What was keeping Hasty?
+
+He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he brought
+unwelcome news.
+
+“Ain't she dar?”
+
+“She's wid 'em, all right,” said Hasty.
+
+“Yuh seed her?”
+
+“Naw, I didn't done SEED her.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“She want in de show.”
+
+“What you jes' tell me?”
+
+“She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride.”
+
+“See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?”
+
+“I don' rightly know,” said Hasty. “A great big man, what wored clothes
+like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says as how he's
+'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. An' den he says
+as how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den everybody look disappinted
+like, an' den out comes de udder gal on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I
+ain't heard no more 'bout Miss Polly.”
+
+“Why didn't you done ask somebody?”
+
+“Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz hurryin' ever'body to get
+out of de tent. I done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git ma money's
+worth?' an' den ebberbody laugh, an' he shove me 'long wid de rest of de
+folks, an' here I is.”
+
+“She's sick, dat's what _I_ says,” Mandy declared, excitedly; “an'
+somebody's got to do somethin'!”
+
+“I done all I knowed,” drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was regretting
+her twenty-five-cent investment.
+
+“Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire,” was Mandy's impatient
+reply. “I got to keep dem vittels warm fer Massa John.”
+
+She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to get hold
+of Polly. “Dat baby-faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy all wobbly 'bout
+de heart,” she declared to herself, as she crossed to the window for a
+sight of the pastor.
+
+It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the path from the
+hill. She lighted the study-lamp, rearranged the cushions, and tried to
+make the room look cheery for his entrance. He stopped in the hall and
+hung up his hat. There was momentary silence. Would he shut himself in
+his room for the night, or would he come into the study? At last the
+door opened and Mandy hastened to place a chair for him.
+
+“Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired,” she said.
+
+“Oh, no,” answered Douglas, absently.
+
+“Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here to-night. It's
+more cheerfuller.”
+
+The side-showman was already beginning his spiel in the lot below. The
+lemonade venders{sic} and the popcorn sellers were heard crying their
+wares. Douglas did not answer her. She bustled from the room, declaring
+“she was jes' goin' ter bring him a morsel.”
+
+He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot. The flare
+of the torches and the red fire came up to meet his pale, tense face.
+“How like the picture of thirteen months ago,” he thought, and old
+Toby's words came back to him--“The show has got to go on.”
+
+Above the church steeple, the moon was battling its way through the
+clouds. His eyes travelled from heaven to earth. There was a spirit
+of unreality in it all. Something made him mistrust himself, his very
+existence. He longed to have done with dreams and speculation, to feel
+something tangible, warm, and real within his grasp. “I can't go on
+like this!” he cried. “I can't!” He turned from the window and walked
+hurriedly up and down the room; indoors or out, he found no rest. He
+threw himself in the armchair near the table, and sat buried in thought.
+
+Mandy came softly into the room. She was followed by Hasty, who carried
+a tray, laden with things that ought to have tempted any man. She
+motioned for Hasty to put the tray on the table, and then began
+arranging the dishes. Hasty stole to the window, and peeped out at the
+tempting flare of red fire.
+
+When Douglas discovered the presence of his two “faithfuls” he was
+touched with momentary contrition. He knew that he often neglected to
+chat with them now, and he made an effort to say something that might
+restore the old feeling of comradeship.
+
+“Have you had a hard day with the new gravel walk?” he asked
+Hasty, remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the
+Sunday-school-room.
+
+Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either to lie or tell the truth
+about the disposition she had made of his afternoon.
+
+“Jes' you come eat yo' supper,” Mandy called to Douglas. “Don' yous
+worry your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob mine. He ain' goin' ter work
+'nuff to hurt hisself.” For an instant she had been tempted to let the
+pastor know how Hasty had gone to the circus and seen nothing of Polly;
+but her motherly instinct won the day and she urged him to eat before
+disturbing him with her own anxieties. It was no use. He only toyed with
+his food; he was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone. She gave up
+trying to tempt his appetite, and began to lead up in a roundabout way
+to the things which she wished to ask.
+
+“Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot tonight,” she said; Douglas
+did not answer. After a moment, she went on: “Hasty didn't work on no
+walk to-day.” Douglas looked at her quizzically, while Hasty, convinced
+that for reasons of her own she was going to get him into trouble, was
+making frantic motions. “He done gone to de circus,” she blurted out.
+Douglas's face became suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had touched an
+open wound.
+
+“I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John. I HAD to find out 'bout dat angel
+chile.” There was a pause. She felt that he was waiting for her to go
+on.
+
+“She didn't done ride to-day.”
+
+He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal. “And de gemmen
+in de show didn't tell nobody why--jes' speaked about de udder gal
+takin' her place.”
+
+“Why DIDN'T she ride?” cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense.
+
+“Dat's what I don' know, sah.” Mandy began to cry. It was the first time
+in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to give way to any
+such weakness. He walked up and down the room, uncertain what to do.
+
+Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about Mandy's
+shoulders.
+
+“Leab me alone, you nigga!” she exclaimed, trying to cover her tears
+with a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed from the
+room, followed by Hasty.
+
+The band was playing loudly; the din of the night performance was
+increasing. Douglas's nerves were strained to a point of breaking. He
+would not let himself go near the window. He stood by the side of the
+table, his fists clenched, and tried to beat back the impulse that was
+pulling him toward the door. Again and again he set his teeth.
+
+It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. Was she ill? Could she need
+him? Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if he went for
+her and brought her back with him? He recalled the hysterical note in
+her behaviour the day that she went away; how she had pleaded, only a
+few moments before Jim came, never to be separated from him. Had she
+really cared for Jim and for the old life? Why had she never written?
+Was she ashamed? Was she sorry for what she had done? What could it
+mean? He threw his hands above his head with a gesture of despair. A
+moment later, he passed out into the night.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+JIM was slow to-night. The big show was nearly over, yet many of the
+props used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded.
+
+He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of the wagons in the back lot,
+and the men were standing about idly, waiting for orders, when Barker
+came out of the main tent and called to him sharply:
+
+“Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to-night?”
+
+“Excuse for what?” Jim crossed slowly to Barker.
+
+“The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show top
+ain't loaded yet.”
+
+“Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! Number thirty-eight carries the
+cook tent and the blacksmith has been tinkering with it all day. Ask HIM
+what shape it's in.”
+
+“You're always stallin',” was Barker's sullen complaint. “It's the
+wagons, or the black-smiths, or anything but the truth. _I_ know what's
+the matter, all right.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked Jim, sharply.
+
+“I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin' for that
+girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.'”
+
+“What have yer got to say about her?” Jim eyed him with a threatening
+look.
+
+“I got a-plenty,” said Barker, as he turned to snap his whip at the
+small boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the rear edge
+of the “big top.” “She's been about as much good as a sick cat since she
+come back. You saw her act last night.”
+
+“Yes,” answered Jim, doggedly.
+
+“Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at ALL this afternoon--said she was
+sick. And me with all them people inside what knowed her, waitin' ter
+see 'er.”
+
+“Give her a little time,” Jim pleaded. “She ain't rode for a year.”
+
+“Time!” shouted Barker. “How much does she want? She's been back a month
+and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. There's only one thing
+for me to do.”
+
+“What's that?” asked Jim, uneasily.
+
+“I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard.”
+
+“Look here, Barker,” and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked steadily
+at the other man; “you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, but if
+I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss won't make no difference.”
+
+“You can't bluff me,” shouted Barker.
+
+“I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer,” said Jim, very quietly.
+
+“Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, that's
+all.” He hurried into the ring.
+
+Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the ground
+with thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had
+tried to rouse her; it was no use. She had looked at him blankly. “If
+she would only complain,” he said to himself. “If she would only get
+mad, anything, anything to wake her.” But she did not complain. She
+went through her daily routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes
+wondered how Jim could talk so much about her work, but before she could
+answer the question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden
+and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with folded hands
+and wide, staring eyes, gazing into the distance.
+
+The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night. He had gone on
+hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the “let-down” in
+her work, and now the blow had fallen. How could he tell her?
+
+One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent. There was a moment's
+confusion, as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each other on their
+way to and from the ring, then the lot cleared again, and Polly came
+slowly from the dressing tent. She looked very different from the little
+girl whom Jim had led away from the parson's garden in a simple, white
+frock one month before. Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with
+her glittering attire. Her hair was knotted high on her head {a}nd
+intertwined with flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed scarcely
+able to support its burden. Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice
+were ablaze with white and coloured stones.
+
+“What's on, Jim?” she asked.
+
+“The 'Leap o' Death.' You got plenty a' time.”
+
+Polly's mind went back to the girl who answered that call a year ago.
+Her spirit seemed very near to-night. The band stopped playing. Barker
+made his grandiloquent announcement about the wonderful act about to be
+seen, and her eyes wandered to the distant church steeple. The moonlight
+seemed to shun it to-night. It looked cold and grim and dark. She
+wondered whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship
+had become as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whirr of
+the great machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space with its
+girl occupant. These things were a part of the daily routine, part of
+the strange, vague dream through which she must stumble for the rest of
+her life.
+
+Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She had
+forgotten his presence.
+
+“Star gazin', Poll?” he asked at length, dreading to disturb her revery.
+
+“I guess I was, Jim.” She turned to him with a little, forced smile. He
+longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke.
+
+“How yer feelin' to-night?”
+
+“I'm all right,” she answered, cheerfully
+
+“Anythin' yer want?”
+
+“Want?” she turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so much that
+she wanted, that the mere mention of the word had opened a well of pain
+in her heart.
+
+“I mean, can I do anythin' for you?”
+
+“Oh, of course not.” She remembered how little ANY ONE could do.
+
+“What is it, Poll?” he begged; but she only turned away and shook her
+head with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. “What made yer cut
+out the show to-day? Was it because you didn't want ter ride afore folks
+what knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?”
+
+“HIM?” Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. “You don't mean
+that he was----”
+
+“Oh, no,” he answered, quickly, “of course not. Parsons don't come to
+places like this one. I was only figurin' that yer didn't want OTHER
+folks to see yer and to tell him how you was ridin'.” She did not
+answer.
+
+“Was that it, Poll?” he urged.
+
+“I don't know.” She stared into space.
+
+“Was it?”
+
+“I guess it was,” she said, after a long time.
+
+“I knowed it,” he cried. “I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer don't
+belong with us no more.”
+
+“Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, too!”
+
+“Here, too?” He looked at her in astonishment. “Yer wasn't in HIS way,
+was yer, Poll?”
+
+“Yes, Jim.” She saw his look of unbelief and continued hurriedly. “Oh,
+I tried not to be. I tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of a
+Bible about my way being his way and my people his people, but it isn't
+so, Jim. Your way is the way you are born, and your people are the
+people you are born with, and you can't change it, Jim, no matter how
+hard you try.”
+
+“YOU was changin' it,” he answered, savagely. “You was gettin' jes'
+like them people. It was me what took yer away and spoiled it all. You
+oughtn't to a come. What made yer, after yer said yer wouldn't?”
+
+She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind of the
+slow-witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult question.
+
+“Will yer answer me somethin' straight?” he asked.
+
+“Why, of course,” she said as she met his gaze.
+
+“Do you love the parson, Poll?”
+
+She started.
+
+“Is that it?”
+
+Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her lips
+apart, then looked far into the distance.
+
+“Yes, Jim, I'm afraid--that's it.” The little figure drooped, and
+she stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked at her
+helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head.
+
+“Ain't that hell?”
+
+It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a cooing
+babe, at her dead mother's side. He watched the tender, averted face.
+Things had turned out so differently from what he had planned.
+
+“And he didn't care about you--like that?” he asked, after a pause.
+
+“No, not in that way.” She was anxious to defend the pastor from even
+the thought of such a thing. “He was good and kind always, but he didn't
+care THAT WAY. He's not like that.”
+
+“I guess I'll have a talk with him,” said Jim, and he turned to go.
+
+“Talk!” she cried.
+
+He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. It was the first time
+that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was
+stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing.
+
+“If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me again.”
+
+Jim was perplexed.
+
+“I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. If you
+ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run away--really and
+truly away--and you'll never, never get me back.”
+
+He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for
+the little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, toying
+nervously with the tiny fingers.
+
+“I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was just a
+tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how.”
+
+She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on his
+great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her
+heart.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+THE “Leap of Death” implements were being carried from the ring, and Jim
+turned away to superintend their loading.
+
+Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main
+tent.
+
+Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere
+mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride
+to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of
+doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came
+from the ring.
+
+“Mr. Barker, please!”
+
+He turned upon her sharply.
+
+“Well, what is it NOW?”
+
+“I want to ask you to let me off again to-night.” She spoke in a short,
+jerky, desperate way.
+
+“What?” he shrieked. “Not go into the ring, with all them people inside
+what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?”
+
+“That's it,” she cried. “I can't! I can't!”
+
+“YER gettin' too tony!” Barker sneered. “That's the trouble with you.
+You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house.
+Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll
+be out all 'round.”
+
+“Out?”
+
+“Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do
+you?”
+
+“I am not a 'dead one,'” she answered, excitedly. “I'm the best rider
+you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself.”
+
+“That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer
+mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer.”
+
+“She wouldn't,” cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face was
+scarlet. The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with
+indignation. “I can ride as well as I EVER could, and I'll do it, too.
+I'll do it to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow?” echoed Barker. “What do you mean by that?”
+
+“I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT,” she declared, “and I
+won't.”
+
+She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her own.
+
+He looked at her with momentary indecision. She WAS a good rider--the
+best since her mother, as he had often told her. He could see this meant
+an issue. He felt she would be on her mettle to-morrow, as far as her
+work was concerned, if he left her alone to-night.
+
+“All right,” he said, sullenly. “Yer can stay off to-night. I got the
+crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money. I'll let Eloise do a turn
+on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me your old act.”
+
+“I'll show you!” she cried. “I'll show you!”
+
+“Well, see that you do.” He crossed into the ring.
+
+Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense. Jim came toward
+her from the direction of the wagons. He glanced at her uneasily.
+“What's he been a-sayin' ter you?”
+
+“He says I can't ride any more.” Her lips closed tightly. She stared
+straight ahead of her. “He says I was no good to the people that took me
+in, and I'm no use here.”
+
+“It's not so!” thundered Jim.
+
+“No; it's not!” she cried. “I'll show him, Jim! I'll show
+him--to-morrow!” She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught her
+firmly by the wrist.
+
+“Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT WAY.” Her
+eyes met his, defiantly.
+
+“What's the difference? What's the difference?” She wrenched her wrist
+quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing hysterically.
+
+“And I brung her back to it,” mumbled Jim as he turned to give orders to
+the property men.
+
+Most of the “first-half props” were loaded, and some of the men were
+asleep under the wagons. The lot was clear. Suddenly he felt some one
+approaching from the back of the enclosure. He turned and found himself
+face to face with the stern, solitary figure of the pastor, wrapped
+in his long, black cloak. The moonlight slipped through a rift in the
+clouds, and fell in a circle around them.
+
+“What made you come here?” was all Jim said.
+
+“I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she might be
+ill.”
+
+“What's that to you?”
+
+“She ISN'T ill?” Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the gruffness
+in the big fellow's voice.
+
+“She's all right,” Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily from one
+foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning gaze.
+
+“And she's happy? she's content?”
+
+“Sure.”
+
+“I'm glad,” said Douglas, dully. He tried to think of some way to
+prolong their talk. “I've never heard from her, you know.”
+
+“Us folks don't get much time to write.” Jim turned away and began
+tinkering with one of the wagons.
+
+Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and again,
+fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was doing, but
+to no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed impossible that he
+should go away so unsatisfied. He crossed to Jim and came determinedly
+to the point.
+
+“Can't I see her, Jim?”
+
+“It's agin the rules.” He did not turn.
+
+There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the lot.
+
+“Wait a minute,” called Jim, as though the words had been wrung from
+him. The pastor came back with a question in his eyes.
+
+“I lied to you.”
+
+“She's NOT well, then?”
+
+“Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being happy.”
+
+“She isn't?” There was a note of unconscious exultation in his voice.
+
+“No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU.”
+
+“Then, why did she leave me?”
+
+“I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at first. Somethin' must
+a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know about.”
+
+“We WILL know about it, Jim. Where is she?” His quick eye searched the
+lot. His voice had regained it's old command. He felt that he could
+conquer worlds.
+
+“You can't do no good that way,” answered Jim. “She don't want ter see
+you again.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even talked to
+you about her.”
+
+“You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?”
+
+“She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait around out here with me. I'll
+let you know in time.” He led the way through a narrow passage between
+the wagons.
+
+Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when Deacon Elverson's small,
+round head slipped cautiously around the corner of the dressing tent.
+The little deacon glanced exultantly about him. He was monarch of all he
+surveyed. It was very thrilling to stand here, on this forbidden ground,
+smelling the saw-dust, gazing at the big red wagons, studying the
+unprotected circus properties, and listening to the lightening tempo of
+the band.
+
+“Did you see him?” shouted Strong, who had followed closely upon
+Elverson's heels.
+
+The little deacon started. Strong was certainly a disturbing factor at
+times.
+
+“Yes, I--I saw him.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“He--he--didn't see HER.”
+
+“What DID he do?” Strong was beside himself with impatience.
+
+“He--he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way.” Elverson
+nodded toward the wagons.
+
+“I guess he ain't gone far,” sneered Strong. “He come over to this lot
+to see her, and he ain't goin' ter give up till he does it. You wait
+here; I'll take a look round.” He went quickly in the direction of the
+wagons.
+
+Elverson needed no second invitation to wait. He was congratulating
+himself upon his good fortune, when he all but collided with a flying
+apparition, vanishing in the direction of the main tent. Sophisticated
+eyes would have seen only a rather stout acrobat clad in pink tights;
+but Elverson was not sophisticated, and he teetered after the flitting
+angel, even unto the forbidden portals of the “big top.”
+
+He was peeping through the curtains which had fallen behind her, and was
+getting his first glimpse of the great, sawdust world beyond, when one
+of the clowns dashed from the dressing tent on his way to the ring.
+
+The clown was late. He saw the limp coat tails of the deacon, who was
+three-quarters in the tent. Here was a chance to make a funny entrance.
+He grabbed the unsuspecting little man from the rear. The terrified
+deacon struck out blindly in all directions, his black arms and legs
+moving like centipede, but the clown held him firmly by the back and
+thrust him, head foremost, into the tent.
+
+Strong returned almost immediately from his unsuccessful search for the
+pastor. He looked about the lot for Elverson.
+
+“Hey, there, Elverson!” he called lustily. There was no response.
+
+“Now where's he got to,” grumbled Strong. He disappeared quickly around
+the corner of the dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp lookout for
+Douglas.
+
+Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, spitting sawdust and
+much discomfited by the laughing performers who followed him. His knees
+almost gave way beneath him when Barker came out of the ring, snapping
+his long, black whip.
+
+“Get out of here, you bloke!” roared Barker. And Elverson “got.”
+
+No one had remembered to tell the groom that Polly was not to ride
+to-night. So Bingo was brought out as usual, when their “turn”
+ approached.
+
+“Take him back, Tom,” Polly called from the entrance, when she learned
+that Bingo was waiting, “and bring Barbarian. I'm not going on to-night.
+Eloise is going to ride in my place.”
+
+This was the second time to-day that Bingo had been led away without
+going into the ring. Something in his big, wondering eyes made Polly
+follow him and apologise. He was very proud, was Bingo, and very
+conscientious. He felt uneasy when he saw the other horses going to
+their work without him.
+
+“Never mind, Bingo,” she said, patting his great, arched neck, “we'll
+show 'em to-morrow.” He rubbed his satiny nose against her cheek. “We'll
+make them SIT UP again. Barker says our act's no good--that I've let
+down. But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. I've not been fair to you. I'll
+give you a chance to-morrow. You wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo!
+Never again!” She watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as
+he nipped the attendant on the arm. He was still irritated at not going
+into the ring.
+
+Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her street
+clothes. The wagons would soon be moving away. For a moment she glanced
+at the dark church steeple, then she turned to go inside the tent. A
+deep, familiar voice stopped her.
+
+“Polly!”
+
+She turned quickly. She could not answer. Douglas came toward her. He
+gazed at her in amazement. She drew her cape about her slightly clad
+figure. She seemed older to him, more unapproachable with her hair
+heaped high and sparkling with jewels. Her bodice of satin and lace
+shimmered through the opening of her cape. The moonlight lent mystery
+and indecision to her betinselled attire. The band was playing the
+andante for the balancing act.
+
+She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound came
+from them. She and the pastor looked at each other strangely, like
+spirits newly met from far-apart worlds. She, too, thought her companion
+changed. He was older, the circles beneath his eyes were deeper, the
+look in their depths more grave.
+
+“We were such close neighbours to-day, I--I rather thought you'd call,”
+ he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying--it did not matter--he
+was there with her.
+
+“When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling.”
+
+“That's why I've come to call on you.” They might have been sheppherd
+and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which their
+words came.
+
+“You're all right?” he went on. “You're happy?”
+
+“Yes, very,” she said. Her eyes were downcast.
+
+He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white face
+belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her?
+
+“Jim said you might not want to see me.”
+
+She started.
+
+“Has Jim been talking to you?”
+
+“Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you left
+that you'd never change--toward me. Have you, Poll?” He studied her,
+anxiously.
+
+“Why, no, of course not,” she said, evasively.
+
+“And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?”
+
+“Yes, of course.” She was growing more and more uneasy. She glanced
+about for a way of escape.
+
+“Why did you leave me as you did?”
+
+“I told you then.” She tried to cross toward the dressing tent.
+
+He stepped quickly in front of her.
+
+“You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy.”
+
+She was growing desperate. She felt she must get away, anywhere,
+anywhere.
+
+He seized her small wrists and forced her to look at him.
+
+“And _I_ am not happy without YOU, and I never, NEVER can be.” The
+floodgates were open, his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her eagerly.
+
+“Oh, you mustn't,” she begged. “You MUSTN'T.”
+
+“You've grown so close,” he cried. “So close!” She struggled to be free.
+He did not heed her. “You know--you must know what I mean.” He drew her
+toward him and forced her into his arms. “You're more precious to me
+than all else on this earth.”
+
+For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on her face. He felt her
+growing limp and lifeless in his arms. A doubt crossed his mind. “If
+I am wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you honestly care for all
+this,” he glanced about at the tents, “more than for any life that I can
+give you, I shan't interfere. You'll be going on your way in an hour.
+I'll say good-bye and God bless you; but if you do care for me, Polly,”
+ he was pleading now, “if you're NOT happy here--won't you come back to
+me? Won't you, Polly?”
+
+She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send him away. She stood
+irresolute. The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her.
+
+“So! You're HERE, are you?”
+
+“Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here,” answered the pastor, as he turned to
+meet the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly from behind
+the dressing tent.
+
+“As for you, miss,” continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward Polly,
+“I might have known how you'd keep your part of the bargain.”
+
+“Bargain?” echoed Douglas. “What bargain?”
+
+“Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I didn't,
+truly.” She hardly knew what she was saying.
+
+“What bargain?” demanded Douglas sternly.
+
+“She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each other
+agin,” roared Strong. “If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to keep on with
+this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so easy.”
+
+“So! That's it!” cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He recalled
+everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her tears. “It was
+you who drove that child back to this.” He glanced at Polly. The narrow
+shoulders were bent forward. The nervous little fingers were clasping
+and unclasping each other. Never before had she seemed so small and
+helpless.
+
+“Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!”
+
+“Why didn't you tell me?” he demanded.
+
+“It would have done no good,” she sobbed. “Oh, why--why won't you leave
+me alone?”
+
+“It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he to send
+you back to this?”
+
+“I had every right,” said Strong, stubbornly.
+
+“What?” cried Douglas.
+
+“It was my duty.”
+
+“Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!”
+
+“I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson.”
+
+“I'm NOT your parson any longer,” declared Douglas. He faced Strong
+squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to him,
+begging and beseeching.
+
+“Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!”
+
+“What do you mean by that?” shouted Strong.
+
+“I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow-minded congregation
+before, because I believed you needed me. But now this girl needs me
+more. She needs me to protect her from just such injustice as yours.”
+
+“You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you.”
+
+“I can do that WITHOUT your advice.”
+
+“Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl
+a-hangin' 'round your neck.”
+
+“He's right,” cried Polly. “You couldn't.” She clung to the pastor in
+terrified entreaty. “You COULDN'T get another church. They'd never,
+never forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let me go! you've GOT to!”
+
+“Listen, Polly.” He drew her toward him. “God is greater than any church
+or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE--HIS work.”
+
+“You'll soon find out about that,” thundered Strong.
+
+“So I will,” answered Douglas, with his head thrown high. “This child
+has opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader, deeper
+humanity; she and I will find the way together.”
+
+“It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that.” Strong turned to go.
+
+“I'm not looking for the easy way!” Douglas called after him, then he
+turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had slipped from his
+side to follow the deacon.
+
+“Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!” she pleaded. “You won't go away
+like that. He'll be all right if you'll only wait. I'm NOT coming back.
+I'm not--honestly. I'm going on with the show, to-night, and I'm going
+this time FOREVER.”
+
+“You are going to stay here with me,” cried Douglas.
+
+“No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, and I won't be to blame for
+your unhappiness.” She faced him firmly now. “I don't belong to your
+world, and I don't want to try any more. I'm what he called me--I'm a
+circus riding girl. I was born in the circus, and I'll never change.
+That's my work--riding, and it's yours to preach. You must do your work,
+and I'LL do MINE.”
+
+She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already waiting
+at the entrance.
+
+“Eloise!” She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound of
+Barker's voice.
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called. “Although we are obliged to announce
+that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear to-night, we offer
+you in her place an able substitute, Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black,
+untamed horse, Barbarian.”
+
+Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount.
+
+“No! No!” cried Polly.
+
+The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice.
+
+“Polly!”
+
+“Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!”
+
+“You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn.”
+
+“So much the better!” She seized the bridle from the frightened girl's
+hand.
+
+“Polly!” shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance.
+
+“I must! I will!”
+
+She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one step to
+follow her.
+
+“You'd better let her alone and get out o' here,” said Strong. His voice
+was like a firebrand to Douglas. He turned upon him, white with rage.
+
+“You drove her to this.” His fists were clenched. He drew back to
+strike.
+
+Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the uplifted arm.
+
+“Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job.” The pastor lowered his
+arm, but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's face.
+
+“Where's Poll?” asked Jim.
+
+“In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning his
+head. He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing hard.
+
+“What?” cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about and saw Eloise. He guessed
+the truth. A few quick strides brought him to the entrance curtains. He
+threw them back and looked into the ring.
+
+“My God! Why don't Barker stop her?”
+
+“What is it?” called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror at
+Jim's behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed.
+
+“She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!”
+
+Douglas crossed to his side and looked.
+
+Polly was springing onto the back of Barbarian. He was a poorly trained
+horse, used by the other girl for more showy, but less dangerous feats
+than Polly's.
+
+“She's goin' through her regular turn with him, she's tryin' ter break
+her neck,” said Jim. “She wants ter do it. It's your fault!” he cried,
+turning upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes. He was half insane, he cared
+little whom he wounded.
+
+“Why can't we stop her?” cried Douglas, unable to endure the strain. He
+took one step inside the entrance.
+
+“No, no; not that!” Jim dragged him back roughly. “If she sees you now,
+it will be the end.” They watched in silence. “She's over the first
+part,” Jim whispered, at last.
+
+Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he watched the scene inside
+the ring. Eloise stood at the pastor's side, horror-stricken at Polly's
+reckless behaviour. She knew Barbarian. It was easy to guess the end.
+
+“She's comin' to the hoops,” Jim whispered, hoarsely.
+
+“Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him,” the other girl
+said.
+
+Polly made the first leap toward the hoops. The horse was not at fault;
+it was Polly. She plunged wildly, the audience started. She caught her
+footing with an effort. One, two, three hoops were passed. She threw
+herself across the back of the horse and hung, head downward, as he
+galloped around the ring. The band was playing loudly, the people were
+cheering. She rose to meet the last two hoops.
+
+“She's swayin',” Jim shrieked in agony. “She's goin' to fall.” He covered
+his face with his hands.
+
+Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side. She mounted and fell again.
+She rose and staggered in pursuit.
+
+“I can't bear it,” groaned Douglas. He rushed into the ring, unconscious
+of the thousands of eyes bent upon his black, ministerial garb, and
+caught the slip of a girl in his arms just as she was about to sink
+fainting beneath the horse's hoofs.
+
+Barker brought the performance to a halt with a crack of his whip. The
+audience stood on tiptoe. White-faced clowns and gaily attired acrobats
+crowded around Polly and the pastor.
+
+Douglas did not see them. He had come into his own.
+
+“He's bringin' her out,” whispered Eloise, who still watched at the
+entrance. Jim dared not look up, his head was still in his hands.
+
+“Is it over?” he groaned.
+
+“I don't know. I can't tell yet.” She stepped aside as Douglas came out
+of the tent, followed by a swarm of performers. He knelt on the soft
+grass and rested Polly's head upon his knee. The others pressed about
+them. It seemed to Douglas that he waited hours; then her white lids
+quivered and opened and the colour crept back to her lips.
+
+“It's all right, Jim!” called one of the men from the crowd. “She's only
+fainted.” The big fellow had waited in his tracks for the verdict.
+
+Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson--a thrill shot through
+his veins.
+
+“It was no use, was it?” She shook her head with a sad little smile. He
+knew that she was thinking of her failure to get out of his way.
+
+“That's because I need you so much, Polly, that God won't let you go
+away from me.” He drew her nearer to him, and the warm blood that shot
+to her cheeks brought back her strength. She rose unsteadily, and looked
+about her. Jim came toward her, white and trembling.
+
+“All right, Poll?”
+
+“Oh, Muvver Jim!” She threw herself into his arms and clung to him,
+sobbing weakly.
+
+No one could ever remember just how the audience left the big top that
+night, and even Barker had no clear idea of how Jim took down the tents,
+loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan on its way.
+
+When the last wagon was beginning to climb the long, winding road of
+the moon-lit hill, Jim turned to Polly, who stood near the side of the
+deserted ring. His eyes travelled from her to the parson, who waited
+near her. She was in her street clothes now, the little brown Quakerish
+dress which she had chosen to wear so much since her return from the
+parsonage.
+
+“I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time,” he said, and he placed
+her hand in that of the parson.
+
+“Good-bye, Muvver Jim,” faltered Polly.
+
+He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. A mother's spirit
+breathed through his kiss.
+
+“I'm glad it's like this,” he said, then turned away and followed the
+long, dotted line of winding lights disappearing slowly over the hill.
+
+Her eyes travelled after him.
+
+Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side.
+
+“I belong with them,” she said, still gazing after Jim and the wagons.
+
+“You belong with me,” he answered in a firm, grave voice, and something
+in the deep, sure tones told her that he was speaking the truth. She
+lifted one trembling hand to his shoulder, and looked up into his face.
+
+“Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die.”
+
+He drew her into his arms.
+
+“The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee and
+me.”
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
+
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Polly of the Circus
+
+Author: Margaret Mayo
+
+Release Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #859]
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLLY OF THE CIRCUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      POLLY OF THE CIRCUS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Margaret Mayo
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      To My &ldquo;<i>KLEINE MUTTER</i>&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The band of the &ldquo;Great American Circus&rdquo; was playing noisily. The
+      performance was in full swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing tent sat a young,
+      wistful-faced girl, chin in hand, unheeding the chatter of the women about
+      her or the picturesque disarray of the surrounding objects. Her eyes had
+      been so long accustomed to the glitter and tinsel of circus fineries that
+      she saw nothing unusual in a picture that might have held a painter
+      spellbound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Circling the inside of the tent and forming a double line down the centre
+      were partially unpacked trunks belching forth impudent masses of satins,
+      laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, and paste jewels. The scent of
+      moist earth mingled oddly with the perfumed odours of the garments heaped
+      on the grass. Here and there high circles of lights threw a strong, steady
+      glare upon the half-clad figure of a robust acrobat, or the thin, drooping
+      shoulders of a less stalwart sister. Temporary ropes stretched from one
+      pole to another, were laden with bright-coloured stockings, gaudy,
+      spangled gowns, or dusty street clothes, discarded by the performers
+      before slipping into their circus attire. There were no nails or hooks, so
+      hats and veils were pinned to the canvas walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The furniture was limited to one camp chair in front of each trunk, the
+      till of which served as a tray for the paints, powders and other
+      essentials of &ldquo;make-up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, so that the performers
+      might wash the delicately shaded tights, handkerchiefs and other small
+      articles not to be entrusted to the slow, careless process of the village
+      laundry. Some of these had been washed to-night and hung to dry on the
+      lines between the dusty street garments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Women whose &ldquo;turns&rdquo; came late sat about half-clothed reading, crocheting
+      or sewing, while others added pencilled eyebrows, powder or rouge to their
+      already exaggerated &ldquo;make-ups.&rdquo; Here and there a child was putting her
+      sawdust baby to sleep in the till of her trunk, before beginning her part
+      in the evening's entertainment. Young and old went about their duties with
+      a systematic, business-like air, and even the little knot of excited women
+      near Polly&mdash;it seemed that one of the men had upset a circus
+      tradition&mdash;kept a sharp lookout for their &ldquo;turns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think about it, Polly?&rdquo; asked a handsome brunette, as she
+      surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About what?&rdquo; asked Polly vacantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave Poll alone; she's in one of her trances!&rdquo; called a motherly,
+      good-natured woman whose trunk stood next to Polly's, and whose business
+      was to support a son and three daughters upon stalwart shoulders, both
+      figuratively and literally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, <i>I</i> ain't in any trance,&rdquo; answered the dark girl, &ldquo;and <i>I</i>
+      think it's pretty tough for him to take up with a rank outsider, and
+      expect us to warm up to her as though he'd married one of our own folks.&rdquo;
+       She tossed her head, the pride of class distinction welling high in her
+      ample bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He ain't asking us to warm up to her,&rdquo; contradicted Mademoiselle Eloise,
+      a pale, light-haired sprite, who had arrived late and was making
+      undignified efforts to get out of her clothes by way of her head. She was
+      Polly's understudy and next in line for the star place in the bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of Death' stunt, ain't he?&rdquo;
+       continued the brunette. &ldquo;'Course that ain't a regular circus act,&rdquo; she
+      added, somewhat mollified, &ldquo;and so far she's had to dress with the
+      'freaks,' but the next thing we know, he'll be ringin' her in on a regular
+      stunt and be puttin' her in to dress with US.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No danger of that,&rdquo; sneered the blonde; &ldquo;Barker is too old a stager to
+      mix up his sheep and his goats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly had again lost the thread of the conversation. Her mind had gone
+      roving to the night when the frightened girl about whom they were talking
+      had made her first appearance in the circus lot, clinging timidly to the
+      hand of the man who had just made her his wife. Her eyes had met Polly's,
+      with a look of appeal that had gone straight to the child's simple heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few nights later the newcomer had allowed herself to be strapped into
+      the cumbersome &ldquo;Leap of Death&rdquo; machine which hurled itself through space
+      at each performance, and flung itself down with force enough to break the
+      neck of any unskilled rider. Courage and steady nerve were the requisites
+      for the job, so the manager had said; but any physician would have told
+      him that only a trained acrobat could long endure the nervous strain, the
+      muscular tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What matter? The few dollars earned in this way would mean a great deal to
+      the mother, whom the girl's marriage had left desolate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly had looked on hungrily the night that the mother had taken the
+      daughter in her arms to say farewell in the little country town where the
+      circus had played before her marriage. She could remember no woman's arms
+      about HER, for it was fourteen years since tender hands had carried her
+      mother from the performers' tent into the moonlit lot to die. The baby was
+      so used to seeing &ldquo;Mumsie&rdquo; throw herself wearily on the ground after
+      coming out of the &ldquo;big top&rdquo; exhausted, that she crept to the woman's side
+      as usual that night, and gazed laughingly into the sightless eyes,
+      gurgling and prattling and stroking the unresponsive face. There were
+      tears from those who watched, but no word was spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Clown Toby and the big &ldquo;boss canvas-man&rdquo; Jim had always taken turns
+      amusing and guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in the ring. So
+      Toby now carried the babe to another side of the lot, and Jim bore the
+      lifeless body of the mother to the distant ticket-wagon, now closed for
+      the night, and laid it upon the seller's cot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's allus like this in the end,&rdquo; he murmured, as he drew a piece of
+      canvas over the white face and turned away to give orders to the men who
+      were beginning to load the &ldquo;props&rdquo; used earlier in the performance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the show moved on that night it was Jim's strong arms that lifted the
+      mite of a Polly close to his stalwart heart, and climbed with her to the
+      high seat on the head wagon. Uncle Toby was entrusted with the brown
+      satchel in which the mother had always carried Polly's scanty wardrobe. It
+      seemed to these two men that the eyes of the woman were fixed steadily
+      upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-natured fellow, at first mumbled
+      something about the kid being &ldquo;excess baggage,&rdquo; but his objections were
+      only half-hearted, for like the others, he was already under the hypnotic
+      spell of the baby's round, confiding eyes, and he eventually contented
+      himself with an occasional reprimand to Toby, who was now sometimes late
+      on his cues. Polly wondered, at these times, why the old man's stories
+      were so suddenly cut short just as she was so &ldquo;comfy&rdquo; in the soft grass at
+      his feet. The boys who used to &ldquo;look sharp&rdquo; because of their boss at
+      loading time, now learned that they might loiter so long as &ldquo;Muvver Jim&rdquo;
+       was &ldquo;hikin' it round for the kid.&rdquo; It was Polly who had dubbed big Jim
+      &ldquo;Muvver,&rdquo; and the sobriquet had stuck to him in spite of his six feet two,
+      and shoulders that an athlete might have envied. Little by little, Toby
+      grew more stooped and small lines of anxiety crept into the brownish
+      circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips that had once shut so firmly became
+      tender and tremulous, but neither of the men would willingly have gone
+      back to the old emptiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly first managed to climb
+      up on the pole of an unhitched wagon and from there to the back of a
+      friendly, Shetland pony. Jim and Toby had been &ldquo;neglectin' her eddication&rdquo;
+       they declared, and from that time on, the blood of Polly's ancestors was
+      given full encouragement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of adding the kid to the daily
+      parade. She made her first appearance in the streets upon something very
+      like a Newfoundland dog, guarded from the rear by Jim, and from the fore
+      by a white-faced clown who was thought to be all the funnier because he
+      twisted his neck so much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the street parade to Polly's first appearance in the &ldquo;big top,&rdquo; had
+      seemed a short while to Jim and Toby. They were proud to see her circling
+      the ring in bright colours and to hear the cheers of the people, but a
+      sense of loss was upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always said she'd do it,&rdquo; cried Barker, who now took upon himself the
+      credit of Polly's triumph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And what a triumph it was!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done on the
+      &ldquo;concert boards.&rdquo; She swayed gracefully with the music. Her tiny sandals
+      twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and then upon the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim left the
+      loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he hovered near the
+      entrance, anxious and breathless. The performers crowded around the girl
+      with outstretched hands and congratulations, as she came out of the ring
+      to cheers and applause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his clumsy
+      fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too small for them and
+      of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and Toby was remembering the
+      little shoes that had once needed to be laced in the cold, dark mornings,
+      and the strings that were always snapping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for everything we
+      lose we gain something; they were simple souls, these two, they could only
+      feel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to the
+      chatter about the &ldquo;Leap of Death&rdquo; girl, Jim waited in the lot outside,
+      opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had bought for her that
+      day. He was as blind to the picturesque outdoor life as she to her indoor
+      surroundings, for he, too, had been with the circus since his earliest
+      recollection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of tents and
+      wagons. The great, red property vans were waiting to be loaded with the
+      costumes and tackle which were constantly being brought from the &ldquo;big
+      top,&rdquo; where the evening performance was now going on. The gay striped
+      curtains at the rear of the tent were looped back to give air to the
+      panting musicians, who sat just inside. Through the opening, a glimpse of
+      the audience might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and shifting uneasily.
+      Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing &ldquo;top,&rdquo; with the women
+      performers stowed away in one end, the &ldquo;ring horses&rdquo; in the centre, and
+      the men performers in the other end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing tent, to
+      shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the back lot for a
+      glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and floated
+      in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the other side to
+      make haste to get their places, forget their cares, and be children again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red fire shot
+      into the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut &ldquo;butchers,&rdquo; the
+      popcorn boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the exhortations of the
+      side-show &ldquo;spieler,&rdquo; whose flying banners bore the painted reproductions
+      of his &ldquo;freaks.&rdquo; Here and there stood unhitched chariots, half filled
+      trunks, trapeze tackle, paper hoops, stake pullers or other &ldquo;properties&rdquo;
+       necessary to the show.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and lanterns gave
+      light for the loading of the wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the dressing
+      tent to the &ldquo;big top,&rdquo; as gaily decked men, women and animals came or
+      went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn to be
+      dressed as lions or bears. The wise old goose, with his modest grey mate,
+      pecked at the green grass or turned his head from side to side, watching
+      the singing clown, who rolled up the painted carcass and long neck of the
+      imitation giraffe from which two property men had just slipped, their legs
+      still encased in stripes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in the hope
+      of some day getting into the performers' ring. Property men stole a
+      minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they waited for more tackle to
+      load in the wagons. Children of the performers were swinging on the tent
+      ropes, chattering monkeys sat astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting their
+      entrance to the ring. The shrieks of the hyenas in the distant animal
+      tent, the roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the elephants mingled
+      with the incessant clamour of the band. And back of all this, pointing
+      upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire, white and majestic
+      against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit hills, that encircled the whole
+      lurid picture. Jim's eyes turned absently toward the church as he sat
+      fumbling with the lock of the little brown satchel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had gone from store to store in the various towns where they had played
+      looking for something to inspire wonder in the heart of a miss, newly
+      arrived at her sixteenth year. Only the desperation of a last moment had
+      forced him to decide upon the imitation alligator bag, which he now held
+      in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It looked small and mean to him as the moment of presentation approached,
+      and he was glad that the saleswoman in the little country store had
+      suggested the addition of ribbons and laces, which he now drew from the
+      pocket of his corduroys. He placed his red and blue treasures very
+      carefully in the bottom of the satchel, and remembered with regret the
+      strand of coral beads which he had so nearly bought to go with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the large property trunk by his side, and took from it a laundry
+      box, which held a little tan coat, that was to be Toby's contribution to
+      the birthday surprise. He was big-hearted enough to be glad that Toby's
+      gift seemed finer and more useful than his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only when the &ldquo;Leap of Death&rdquo; act preceding Polly's turn was
+      announced, that the big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on the satchel
+      and coat, and hid them away in the big property trunk. She would be out in
+      a minute, and these wonders were not to be revealed to her until the close
+      of the night's performance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon it, feeling like a criminal
+      because he was hiding something from Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His consciousness of guilt was increased as he recalled how often she had
+      forbidden Toby and himself to rush into reckless extravagances for her
+      sake, and how she had been more nearly angry than he had ever seen her,
+      when they had put their month's salaries together to buy her the spangled
+      dress for her first appearance. It had taken a great many apologies and
+      promises as to their future behaviour to calm her, and now they had again
+      disobeyed her. It would be a great relief when to-night's ordeal was over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from the dressing tent and stopped
+      to gaze at the nearby church steeple. The incongruity of the slang, that
+      soon came from her delicately formed lips, was lost upon him as she turned
+      her eyes toward him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Jim,&rdquo; she said, with a Western drawl, &ldquo;them's a funny lot of guys
+      what goes to them church places, ain't they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most everybody has got some kind of a bug,&rdquo; Jim assented; &ldquo;I guess they
+      don't do much harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Member the time you took me into one of them places to get me out a the
+      rain, the Sunday our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch WE butted into
+      wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers no cause for worry with that show a'
+      theirn, would they, Jim?&rdquo; She looked at him with withering disgust. &ldquo;Say,
+      wasn't that the punkiest stunt that fellow in black was doin' on the
+      platform? You said Joe was only ten minutes gettin' the tire onto our
+      wheel, but say, you take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another ten
+      minutes as long as that one, I'd be too old to go on a-ridin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim &ldquo;'lowed&rdquo; some church shows might be better than &ldquo;that un,&rdquo; but Polly
+      said he could have her end of the bet, and summed up by declaring it no
+      wonder that the yaps in these towns was daffy about circuses, if they
+      didn't have nothin' better an' church shows to go to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the grooms was entering the lot with Polly's horse. She stooped to
+      tighten one of her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw her sway slightly and
+      put one hand to her head. He looked at her sharply, remembering her
+      faintness in the parade that morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't feeling right,&rdquo; he said uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You just bet I am,&rdquo; Polly answered with an independent toss of her head.
+      &ldquo;This is the night we're goin' to make them rubes in there sit up, ain't
+      it, Bingo?&rdquo; she added, placing one arm affectionately about the neck of
+      the big, white horse that stood waiting near the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You bin ridin' too reckless lately,&rdquo; said Jim, sternly, as he followed
+      her. &ldquo;I don't like it. There ain't no need of your puttin' in all them
+      extra stunts. Your act is good enough without 'em. Nobody else ever done
+      'em, an' nobody'd miss 'em if you left 'em out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice. The music was swelling
+      for her entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't my MOTHER, Jim, you're my GRANDmother,&rdquo; she taunted; and, with
+      a crack of her whip she was away on Bingo's back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into her,&rdquo; Jim mumbled as he
+      turned away, still seeing the flash in the departing girl's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Polly and Bingo always made the audience &ldquo;sit up&rdquo; when they swept into the
+      ring. She was so young, so gaily clad, so light and joyous in all her
+      poses. She seemed scarcely to touch the back of the white horse, as they
+      dashed round the ring in the glare of the tent lights. The other
+      performers went through their work mechanically while Polly rode, for they
+      knew the audience was watching her only.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Polly, her work had never lost its first interest. Jim may have
+      been right when he said that the spirit of the dead mother had got into
+      her; but it must have been an unsatisfied spirit, unable to fulfil its
+      ambition in the body that once held it, for it sometimes played strange
+      pranks with Polly. To-night, her eyes shone and her lips were parted in
+      anticipation, as she leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers of
+      the wheel of silken ribbons held by Barker in the centre of the ring, and
+      by Toby and the &ldquo;tumblers&rdquo; on the edge of the bank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With each change of her act, the audience cheered and frantically
+      applauded. The band played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the end of her
+      turn was coming. The &ldquo;tumblers&rdquo; arranged themselves around the ring with
+      paper hoops; Bingo was fairly racing. She went through the first hoop with
+      a crash of tearing paper and cheers from the audience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heigh, Bingo!&rdquo; she shouted, as she bent her knees to make ready for the
+      final leap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bingo's neck was stretched. He had never gone so fast before. Barker
+      looked uneasy. Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed tricks. Jim
+      watched anxiously from the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken. The attendant turned his
+      eyes to glance at the oncoming girl; the hoop shifted slightly in his
+      clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from Bingo's back, trusting to her
+      first calculation. Her forehead struck the edge of the hoop. She clutched
+      wildly at the air. Bingo galloped on, and she fell to the ground, striking
+      her head against the iron-bound stake at the edge of the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everything stopped. There was a gasp of horror; the musicians dropped
+      their instruments; Bingo halted and looked back uneasily; she lay
+      unconscious and seemingly lifeless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A great cry went up in the tent. Panic-stricken, men, women and children
+      began to clamber down from their seats, while others nearest the ground
+      attempted to jump into the ring. Barker, still grasping his long whip,
+      rushed to the girl's side, and shouted wildly to Toby:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say something, you. Get 'em back!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, his features worked
+      convulsively, but he could not speak. His grief was so grotesque, that the
+      few who saw him laughed hysterically. He could not even go to Polly, his
+      feet seemed pinned to the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the audience. He lifted the
+      limp form tenderly, and kneeling in the ring held her bruised head in his
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you get a doctor!&rdquo; he shouted desperately to Barker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's the doctor!&rdquo; some one called; and a stranger came toward them. He
+      bent over the seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on the tiny wrist, his
+      ear to the heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir?&rdquo; Jim faltered, for he had caught the puzzled look in the
+      doctor's eyes as his deft hand pressed the cruelly wounded head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't tell just yet,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;She must be taken away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where can we take her?&rdquo; asked Jim, a look of terror in his great,
+      troubled eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The parsonage is the nearest house,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;I am sure the
+      pastor will be glad to have her there until we can find out how badly she
+      is hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant Barker was back in the centre of the ring. He announced that
+      Polly's injuries were slight, called the attention of the audience to the
+      wonderful concert to take place, and bade them make ready for the
+      thrilling chariot race which would end the show.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden and staggered out of the
+      tent, while the band played furiously and the people fell back into their
+      seats. The Roman chariots thundered and clattered around the outside of
+      the ring, the audience cheered the winner of the race, and for the moment
+      Polly was forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE blare of the circus band had been a sore temptation to Mandy Jones all
+      afternoon and evening. Again and again it had dragged her from her work to
+      the study window, from which she could see the wonders so tantalisingly
+      near. Mandy was housekeeper for the Rev. John Douglas, but the unwashed
+      supper dishes did not trouble her, as she watched the lumbering elephants,
+      the restless lions, the long-necked giraffes and the striped zebras, that
+      came and went in the nearby circus lot. And yet, in spite of her own
+      curiosity, she could not forgive her vagrant &ldquo;worse half,&rdquo; Hasty, who had
+      been lured from duty early in the day. She had once dubbed him Hasty, in a
+      spirit of derision, and the name had clung to him. The sarcasm seemed
+      doubly appropriate to-night, for he had been away since ten that morning,
+      and it was now past nine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young pastor for a time had enjoyed Mandy's tirades against her
+      husband, but when she began calling shrilly out of the window to chance
+      acquaintances for news of him, he slipped quietly into the next room to
+      finish to-morrow's sermon. Mandy renewed her operations at the window with
+      increased vigour when the pastor had gone. She was barely saved from
+      pitching head foremost into the lot, by the timely arrival of Deacon
+      Strong's daughter, who managed, with difficulty, to connect the excited
+      woman's feet with the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foh de Lor' sake!&rdquo; Mandy gasped, as she stood panting for breath and
+      blinking at the pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; &ldquo;I was suah most gone
+      dat time.&rdquo; Then followed another outburst against the delinquent Hasty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the deacon's daughter did not hear; her eyes were already wandering
+      anxiously to the lights and the tinsel of the little world beyond the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not the first time to-day that Mandy had found herself talking to
+      space. There had been a steady stream of callers at the parsonage since
+      eleven that morning, but she had long ago confided to the pastor that she
+      suspected their reasons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and a-askin' why
+      you don' stop de circus from a-showin' nex' to de church and den a-cranin'
+      afar necks out de winder, till I can't get no housework done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's only human nature,&rdquo; Douglas had answered with a laugh; but Mandy
+      had declared that she knew another name for it, and had mumbled something
+      about &ldquo;hypocritters,&rdquo; as she seized her broom and began to sweep imaginary
+      tracks from in front of the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many times she had made up her mind to let the next caller know just what
+      she thought of &ldquo;hypocritters,&rdquo; but her determination was usually weakened
+      by her still greater desire to excite increased wonder in the faces of her
+      visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Divided between these two inclinations, she gazed at Julia now; the
+      shining eyes of the deacon's daughter conquered, and she launched forth
+      into an eager description of how she had just seen a &ldquo;wondeful striped
+      anamule&rdquo; with a &ldquo;pow'ful long neck walk right out of the tent,&rdquo; and how he
+      had &ldquo;come apart afore her very eyes,&rdquo; and two men had slipped &ldquo;right out
+      a' his insides.&rdquo; Mandy was so carried away by her own eloquence and so
+      busy showing Julia the sights beyond the window, that she did not hear
+      Miss Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who entered, followed by the Widow
+      Willoughby dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The women were protesting because their choir practice of &ldquo;What Shall the
+      Harvest Be?&rdquo; had been interrupted by the unrequested acompaniment{sic} of
+      the &ldquo;hoochie coochie&rdquo; from the nearby circus band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's scandalous!&rdquo; Miss Perkins snapped. &ldquo;Scandalous! And SOMEBODY ought
+      to stop it.&rdquo; She glanced about with an unmistakable air of grievance at
+      the closed doors, feeling that the pastor was undoubtedly behind one of
+      them, when he ought to be out taking action against the things that her
+      soul abominated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that <i>I</i> could,&rdquo; piped the widow, with
+      a meek, martyred air. She was always martyred. She considered it an
+      appropriate attitude for a widow. &ldquo;He can't blame ME if the choir is out
+      of key to-morrow.&rdquo; &ldquo;Mercy me!&rdquo; interrupted the spinster, &ldquo;if there isn't
+      Julia Strong a-leaning right out of that window a-looking at the circus,
+      and her pa a deacon of the church, and this the house of the pastor. It's
+      shocking! I must go to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ma, let me see, too,&rdquo; begged Willie, as he tugged at his mother's skirts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willoughby hesitated. Miss Perkins was certainly taking a long while
+      for her argument with Julia. The glow from the red powder outside the
+      window was positively alarming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I wonder if there can be a fire.&rdquo; And with this
+      pretext for investigation, she, too, joined the little group at the
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments later when Douglas entered for a fresh supply of paper, the
+      backs of the company were toward him. He crossed to the study table
+      without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to himself at the eager way in
+      which they were hanging out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and boyish in
+      manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit. He had seemed too young to
+      the deacons when he was appointed to their church, and his keen enjoyment
+      of outdoor games and other healthful sports robbed him of a certain
+      dignity in their eyes. Some of the women of the congregation had been
+      inclined to side with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that the
+      pastor found so many other interests when he might have been sitting in
+      dark, stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had been
+      either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had gone on
+      his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction of right, that
+      had only left them floundering. He intended to quit the room now
+      unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset a chair as he turned from
+      the table. This brought a chorus of exclamations from the women, who
+      chattering rushed quickly toward him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?&rdquo; simpered the widow. &ldquo;He
+      dragged me quite to the window.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five-foot-six widow and then at the
+      helpless, red-haired urchin by her side, but he made no comment beyond
+      offering a chair to each of the women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued,&rdquo; declared Miss
+      Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair, adjusted her skirts
+      for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the parson, who had dutifully seated
+      himself near the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure <i>I</i> have as true an ear as anybody,&rdquo; whimpered the widow,
+      with an injured air; &ldquo;but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What Shall the Harvest
+      Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT.&rdquo; She jerked her hand in the direction
+      of the window. The band was again playing the &ldquo;hoochie coochie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind about the choir practice,&rdquo; said Douglas, with a smile. &ldquo;It is
+      SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its music. As for that music
+      out there, it is NOT without its compensations. Why, the small boys would
+      rather hear that band than the finest church organ in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you preach,
+      most likely,&rdquo; snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult to injury for him
+      to try to CONSOLE her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if they'd only
+      tell the truth about it,&rdquo; said Douglas, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Perkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Douglas. &ldquo;I am sure I don't know what they do inside the
+      tents, but the parade looked very promising.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The PARADE!&rdquo; the two women echoed in one breath. &ldquo;Did YOU see the
+      parade?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; said Douglas, enthusiastically. &ldquo;But it didn't compare with
+      the one I saw at the age of eight.&rdquo; He turned his head to one side and
+      looked into space with a reminiscent smile. The widow's red-haired boy
+      crept close to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice,&rdquo; he continued, dreamily,
+      &ldquo;the elephants huge as mountains, the great calliope wafted my soul to the
+      very skies, and I followed that parade right into the circus lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you seed inside de tent?&rdquo; Willie asked, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't have enough money for that,&rdquo; Douglas answered, frankly. He
+      turned to the small boy and pinched his ear. There was sad disappointment
+      in the youngster's face, but he brightened again, when the parson
+      confessed that he &ldquo;peeped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A parson peeping!&rdquo; cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not a parson then,&rdquo; corrected Douglas, good-naturedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were GOING to be,&rdquo; persisted the spinster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion. He was looking very
+      sheepish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!&rdquo; said Mandy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasty, where have you been all day?&rdquo; demanded Douglas, severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time. &ldquo;Did yo' say whar's I
+      been, sah?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dat's what he done ast yo',&rdquo; Mandy prompted, threateningly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bin 'ceived, Mars John,&rdquo; declared Hasty, solemnly. Mandy snorted
+      incredulously. Douglas waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis mawnin' dat ef I carry water fo'
+      de el'phants, he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin', an' I make a
+      'greement wid him. Mars John, did yo' ebber seed an' el'phant drink?&rdquo; he
+      asked, rolling his eyes. John shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once an&mdash;swish&mdash;water
+      gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sah,&rdquo; continued Hasty, &ldquo;I tote water fo' dem el'phants all day
+      long, an' when I cum roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't let me in.
+      An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey pulls me out by de laigs an'
+      beats me.&rdquo; He looked from one to the other expecting sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Serves you right,&rdquo; was Mandy's unfeeling reply. &ldquo;If yo's so anxious to be
+      a-totin' water, jes' yo' come along outside and tote some fo' Mandy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy,&rdquo; protested Hasty. &ldquo;I'se hurted in mah
+      arm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What hurt yo'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tiger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A tiger?&rdquo; exclaimed the women in unison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Done chawed it mos' off,&rdquo; he declared, solemnly. &ldquo;Deacon Elverson, he
+      seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Deacon Elverson?&rdquo; cried the spinster. &ldquo;Was Deacon Elverson at the
+      circus?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me,&rdquo; Hasty answered,
+      innocently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen,&rdquo; said Douglas to Mandy, with a
+      dry smile; &ldquo;he's talking too much for a wounded man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, advising him with fine scorn
+      &ldquo;to get de tiger to chew off his laigs, so's he wouldn't have to walk no
+      mo'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly. Elverson's
+      behaviour was beyond their power of expression. Miss Perkins turned to the
+      pastor, as though he were somehow to blame for the deacon's backsliding,
+      but before she could find words to argue the point, the timid little
+      deacon appeared in the doorway, utterly unconscious of the hostile
+      reception that Hasty had prepared for him. He glanced nervously from one
+      set face to the other, then coughed behind his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're all very much interested in the circus,&rdquo; said Douglas. &ldquo;Can't you
+      tell us about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I just went into the lot to look for my son,&rdquo; stammered the deacon. &ldquo;I
+      feared Peter had strayed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, deacon,&rdquo; said Mrs. Willoughby. &ldquo;I just stopped by your house and saw
+      Mrs. Elverson putting Peter to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The deacon was saved from further embarrassment by an exclamation from
+      Julia, who had stayed at the window. &ldquo;Oh, look; something has happened!&rdquo;
+       she cried. &ldquo;There's a crowd. They are coming this way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and saw an excited mob collecting
+      before the entrance to the main tent. He had time to discover no more
+      before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with excitement and rolling her
+      large, white-rimmed eyeballs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Dr.
+      Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Douglas, hurrying outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were horrified exclamations from the women, who were aghast at the
+      idea of a circus rider in the parsonage. In their helpless indignation,
+      they turned upon the little deacon, feeling intuitively that he was
+      enjoying the drama. Elverson was retreating toward the door when he was
+      suddenly thrust aside by Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of humanity, her
+      slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder. The silk stocking was torn
+      from one bruised ankle; her hair fell across her face, veiling it from the
+      unfriendly glances of the women. Douglas passed out of sight up the
+      stairway without looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy reached the front door in time to push back a crowd of intruders.
+      She had barely closed the door when it was thrust open by Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go 'way f'um here!&rdquo; cried Mandy, as her eyes unconsciously sought the
+      stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim followed the direction of her glance, and cleared the steps at a
+      bound. Mandy pursued him, muttering angrily. Deacon Elverson, too, was
+      about to follow, when a grim reminder from Miss Perkins brought him around
+      and he made for the door instead. He started back on opening it, for
+      standing on the threshold was a clown in his grotesque &ldquo;make-up&rdquo;; his
+      white clothes were partially concealed by a large, travelling ulster, held
+      together by one button. In one hand he carried a small leather satchel; in
+      the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was thrown across his
+      arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his mother's skirt were the only
+      greetings received by the trembling old man in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other, waiting for
+      a word of invitation to enter; but none came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I just brought some of her little things. She'd
+      better put on her coat when she goes out. It's gettin' kinder chilly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked again into the blank faces; still no one spoke. He stepped
+      forward, trembling with anxiety. A sudden fear clutched at his heart, the
+      muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red painted lips began to
+      quiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It ain't&mdash;It ain't that, is it?&rdquo; he faltered, unable to utter the
+      word that filled him with horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the old man's
+      voice. &ldquo;I guess you will find the person you are looking for upstairs,&rdquo;
+       she answered tartly; and flounced out of the house, calling to Julia and
+      the others to follow her, and declaring that she would soon let folks know
+      how the parson had brought a &ldquo;circus ridin' girl&rdquo; into the parsonage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The painted clown stood alone, looking from one wall to the other, then he
+      crossed the room and placed the alligator satchel and the little coat and
+      hat on the study table. He was careful not to wrinkle the coat, for this
+      was Polly's birthday gift. Jim and he had planned to have sandwiches and
+      soda pop on the top of the big wagon when they offered their treasures
+      tonight; but now the wagons would soon be leaving&mdash;and where was
+      Polly? He turned to ask this question as Mandy came down the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if dar ain't anudder one,&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Mandy,&rdquo; said Douglas, who was just behind her, carrying a
+      small water pitcher, and searching for a bottle of brandy which had been
+      placed in the medicine chest for emergencies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can take these upstairs,&rdquo; he told her, when he had filled the pitcher
+      with water and found the liquor. Mandy looked threateningly at Toby, then
+      reluctantly went on her way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly. His was the first greeting that
+      Toby had received, and he at last found voice to ask whether Polly was
+      badly hurt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor hasn't told us yet,&rdquo; said Douglas, kindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm her Uncle Toby&mdash;not her REAL uncle,&rdquo; the old man explained, &ldquo;but
+      that's what she calls me. I couldn't come out right away, because I'm on
+      in the concert. Could I see her now, please?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here's the doctor,&rdquo; said Douglas, as Hartley came down the stairs,
+      followed by Jim. &ldquo;Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, rather bad,&rdquo; said the doctor, adding quickly, as he saw the
+      suffering in Toby's face, &ldquo;but don't be alarmed. She's going to get well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long will it be before we can have her back&mdash;before she can ride
+      again?&rdquo; asked Jim gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his brown, worn hat
+      in his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably several months,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;No bones are broken, but the
+      ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received a bad blow on the head.
+      It will be some time before she recovers consciousness.&rdquo; &ldquo;What are we
+      goin' to do, Jim?&rdquo; asked Toby, helplessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here,&rdquo; said Douglas,
+      seeing desperation written on their faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here?&rdquo; They looked at him incredulously.&mdash;And this was a parson!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are her parents?&rdquo; the doctor asked, looking at Jim and Toby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me,&rdquo; replied Jim. &ldquo;We've took
+      care of her ever since she was a baby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;Well, one of you'd better stay here until
+      she can be moved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the trouble; we can't,&rdquo; said Toby, hanging his head. &ldquo;You see,
+      sir, circus folks is like soldiers. No matter what happens, the show has
+      to go on, and we got to be in our places.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;It is a
+      fortunate thing that Mr. Douglas can manage this. Our town hospital burned
+      down a few months ago, and we've been rather puzzled as to what to do with
+      such cases.&rdquo; He took his leave with a cheery &ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; and a promise
+      to look in upon the little patient later. Jim shuffled awkwardly toward
+      the pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's mighty good of you to do this,&rdquo; he mumbled, &ldquo;but she ain't goin' to
+      be no charity patient. Me and Toby is goin' to look after her keep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her wants will be very few,&rdquo; Douglas answered, kindly. &ldquo;You needn't
+      trouble much about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean it,&rdquo; said Jim, savagely. He met Douglas's glance of surprise with
+      a determined look, for he feared that his chance of being useful to Polly
+      might be slipping out of his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't mind Jim,&rdquo; the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. &ldquo;You see
+      pain gets some folks different from others; and it always kinder makes him
+      savage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; Douglas answered, quickly. His own life had been
+      so lonely, that he could understand the selfish yearning in the big man's
+      heart. &ldquo;You must do what you think best about these things; Mandy and I
+      will look after the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen straight into
+      his heart and discovered his petty weakness. He was about to turn toward
+      the door when it was thrown open by Barker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo; shouted the manager, looking from one to the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She can't come,&rdquo; said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew the storm
+      of opposition with which Barker would meet the announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't come?&rdquo; shrieked Barker. &ldquo;Of course she'll come. I can't get along
+      without her. She's GOT to come.&rdquo; He looked at Jim, who remained silent and
+      firm. &ldquo;WHY ain't she comin'?&rdquo; he asked, feeling himself already defeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's hurt bad,&rdquo; was Jim's laconic reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The devil she is!&rdquo; said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation. &ldquo;Is
+      that right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won't be able to travel for some time,&rdquo; said Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Barker is our manager,&rdquo; Toby explained, as he edged his way to the
+      pastor's side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some time!&rdquo; Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for their
+      misfortune. &ldquo;Well, you just bet she will,&rdquo; he declared menacingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that,&rdquo; said Jim, facing the
+      manager. &ldquo;He's darned square even if he is a parson.&rdquo; Barker turned away.
+      He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was irritated and upset at losing the
+      star feature of his bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?&rdquo; he muttered to himself, as his eye again
+      travelled to the boss canvas-man. &ldquo;You get out a' here, Jim,&rdquo; he shouted,
+      &ldquo;an' start them wagons. The show's got to go on, Poll or no Poll.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a grudging thanks
+      to the pastor. &ldquo;It's all fired good of you to take her in,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but
+      it's tough to lose her. Good night!&rdquo; He banged the door and clattered down
+      the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim waited. He was trying to find words in which to tell his gratitude.
+      None came; and he turned to go with a short &ldquo;good-bye!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night, Jim,&rdquo; said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the big
+      fellow's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much obliged,&rdquo; Jim answered gruffly. It was his only polite phrase, and
+      he had taught Polly to say it. Douglas waited until Jim had passed down
+      the steps, then turned to Toby, who still lingered near the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without sayin'
+      'good-bye,' won't you, sir?&rdquo; Toby pleaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; Douglas promised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel.&rdquo; He picked up
+      the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's birthday gift. &ldquo;Me an'
+      Jim will be sendin' her more soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're going to miss her, I'm afraid,&rdquo; Douglas said, feeling an
+      irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord bless you, yes, sir,&rdquo; Toby answered, turning upon him eagerly. &ldquo;Me
+      an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about everythin' to that
+      little one. She wan't much bigger'n a handful of peanuts when we begun
+      a-worryin' about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mandy will do the worrying now,&rdquo; Douglas laughed. &ldquo;She's been dying
+      for a chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she even tried it on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look kinder queer
+      at me,&rdquo; said Toby, &ldquo;and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe they might feel the
+      same about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they're all right,&rdquo; Douglas assured him; &ldquo;they'll be her friends in
+      no time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's fit for 'em, sir,&rdquo; Toby pleaded. &ldquo;She's good, clean into the middle
+      of her heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure of it,&rdquo; Douglas answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people, sir, and
+      I jes' wanted ye to know that there ain't finer families, or better
+      mothers or fathers or grandfathers or grandmothers anywhere than we got
+      among us. Why, that girl's mother rode the horses afore her, and her
+      mother afore that, and her grandmother and grandfather afore that, an'
+      there ain't nobody what's cared more for their good name and their
+      children's good name an' her people has. You see, sir, circus folks is all
+      like that; they's jes' like one big family; they tends to their business
+      and takes good care o' theirselves&mdash;they has to&mdash;or they
+      couldn't do their work. It's 'cause I'm leavin' her with you that I'm
+      sayin' all this,&rdquo; the old man apologised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad you told me, Toby,&rdquo; Douglas answered, kindly. &ldquo;I've never known
+      much about circus folks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I'd better be goin',&rdquo; Toby faltered, as his eyes roved hungrily
+      toward the stairway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how she is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I will,&rdquo; Douglas assured him, heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell her,&rdquo; Douglas promised earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night!&rdquo; The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable to find
+      further pretext for staying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night, Toby.&rdquo; Douglas extended his hand toward the bent figure that
+      was about to shuffle past him. The withered hand of the white-faced clown
+      rested in the strong grasp of the pastor, and his pale, little eyes sought
+      the face of the stalwart man before him; a numb desolation was growing in
+      his heart; the object for which he had gone on day by day was being left
+      behind and he must stumble forth into the night alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's hard to leave her,&rdquo; he mumbled; &ldquo;but the show has got to go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door shut out the bent, old figure. Douglas stood for some time where
+      Toby had left him, still thinking of his prophetic words. His revery was
+      broken by the sounds of the departing wagons, the low muttered curses of
+      the drivers, the shrieking and roaring of the animals, as the circus train
+      moved up the distant hill. &ldquo;The show has got to go on,&rdquo; he repeated as he
+      crossed to his study table and seated himself for work in the dim light of
+      the old-fashioned lamp. He put out one hand to draw the sheets of his
+      interrupted sermon toward him, but instead it fell upon a small sailor
+      hat. He twisted the hat absently in his fingers, not yet realising the new
+      order of things that was coming into his life. Mandy tiptoed softly down
+      the stairs. She placed one pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her
+      large eyes skyward. &ldquo;Dat sure am an angel chile straight from Hebben,&rdquo; she
+      whispered. &ldquo;She done got a face jes' like a little flower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Straight from heaven,&rdquo; Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly to the
+      table and picked up the satchel and coat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can leave the lamp, Mandy&mdash;I must finish to-morrow's sermon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as she saw the
+      imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She closed the door behind her, and Douglas was alone. He gazed absently
+      at the pages of his unfinished sermon as he tapped his idle pen on the
+      desk. &ldquo;The show has got to go on,&rdquo; he repeated, and far up the hillside
+      with the slow-moving wagons, Jim and Toby looked with unseeing eyes into
+      the dim, star-lit distance, and echoed the thought: &ldquo;The show has got to
+      go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE church bells were ringing their first warning for the morning service
+      when Mandy peeped into the spare bedroom for the second time, and glanced
+      cautiously at the wisp of hair that bespoke a feminine head somewhere
+      between the covers and the little white pillow on the four-poster bed.
+      There was no sound from the sleeper, so Mandy ventured across the room on
+      tiptoe and raised the shades. The drooping boughs of Autumn foliage lay
+      shimmering against the window panes, and through them might be seen the
+      grey outline of the church. Mandy glanced again toward the bed to make
+      sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened the invalid, then crossed
+      to a small, rickety chair, laden with the discarded finery of the little
+      circus rider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lawdy sakes!&rdquo; she cried, holding up a spangled dress, admiringly. &ldquo;Ain't
+      dat beautiful!&rdquo; She drew near the mirror, attempting to see the reflection
+      of the tinsel and chiffon against her very ample background of gingham and
+      avoirdupois. &ldquo;You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat on, Honey,&rdquo; she
+      chuckled to herself. &ldquo;Wouldn't dem deacons holler if dey done see dat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The picture of the deacons' astonishment at such a spectacle so grew upon
+      Mandy, that she was obliged to cover her generous mouth to shut in her
+      convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the little girl in the bed. She
+      crossed to the old-fashioned bureau which for many months had stood unused
+      against the wall. The drawer creaked as she opened it to lay away the gay,
+      spangled gown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on dem tings agin,&rdquo; she said,
+      with a doubtful shake of her large, round head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she went back to the chair and picked up Polly's sandals, and
+      examined the bead-work with a great deal of interest. &ldquo;Lawdy, lawdy!&rdquo; she
+      cried, as she compared the size of the sandals to that of her own rough,
+      worn shoes. She was again upon the point of exploding with laughter, as
+      the church bell added a few, final and more emphatic clangs to its
+      warning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned with a start, motioning a vain warning out of the window for
+      the bell to be silent, but the little sleeper was already stirring
+      uneasily on her pillow. One soft arm was thrown languidly over her head.
+      The large, blue eyes opened and closed dreamily as she murmured the words
+      of the clown song that Jim and Toby had taught her years ago:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Ting ling,
+     That's what the bells sing&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Mandy reached the side of the bed as the girl's eyes opened a second time
+      and met hers with a blank stare of astonishment. A tiny frown came into
+      the small, white forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; she asked faintly, trying to find something familiar
+      in the black face before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, child, hush,&rdquo; Mandy whispered; &ldquo;jes' you lie puffickly still. Dat's
+      only de furs' bell a-ringin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First bell?&rdquo; the girl repeated, as her eyes travelled quickly about the
+      strange walls and the unfamiliar fittings of the room. &ldquo;This ain't the
+      show!&rdquo; she cried, suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show,&rdquo; Mandy answered; and she laughed
+      reassuringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then where am I?&rdquo; Polly asked, half breathless with bewilderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nebber you mind 'bout dat,&rdquo; was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I DO mind,&rdquo; protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a sitting
+      position. &ldquo;Where's the bunch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;De wat?&rdquo; asked Mandy in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bunch&mdash;Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lor' bless you!&rdquo; Mandy exclaimed. &ldquo;Dey's done gone 'long wid de circus,
+      hours ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone! Show gone!&rdquo; Polly cried in amazement. &ldquo;Then what am I doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hole on dar, honey! hole on!&rdquo; Mandy cautioned. &ldquo;Don't you 'cite yo'se'f.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me alone!&rdquo; Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place a shawl
+      around her. &ldquo;I got to get out a-here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'se got plenty o' time for dat,&rdquo; Mandy answered, &ldquo;yes' yo' wait
+      awhile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't wait, and I won't!&rdquo; Polly shrieked, almost beside herself with
+      anxiety. &ldquo;I got to get to the next burg&mdash;Wakefield, ain't it? What
+      time is it? Let me alone! Let me go!&rdquo; she cried, struggling desperately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door opened softly and the young pastor stood looking down at the
+      picture of the frail, white-faced child, and her black, determined captor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, here! What's all this about?&rdquo; he asked, in a firm tone, though
+      evidently amused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; returned the girl, as she shoved herself quickly back
+      against the pillows and drew the covers close under her chin, looking at
+      him oddly over their top.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful,&rdquo; Mandy explained, as she tried
+      to regain enough breath for a new encounter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly,&rdquo; he said, with mock seriousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know I'm Polly?&rdquo; the little rebel asked, her eyes gleaming
+      large and desperate above the friendly covers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell you,&rdquo; he
+      said, as he crossed to the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't be quiet, not for nobody,&rdquo; Polly objected, with a bold disregard
+      of double negatives. &ldquo;I got to get a move. If you ain't goin' to help me,
+      you needn't butt in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet,&rdquo; Douglas replied. He was
+      beginning to perceive that there were tasks before him other than the
+      shaping of Polly's character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?&rdquo; she asked, as she shot a glance
+      of suspicion from the pastor to Mandy. &ldquo;What am I up against?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't yuh be scared, honey,&rdquo; Mandy reassured her. &ldquo;You's jes' as safe
+      here as you done been in de circus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Safer, we hope,&rdquo; Douglas added, with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you two bug?&rdquo; Polly questioned, as she turned her head from one side
+      to the other and studied them with a new idea. &ldquo;Well, you can't get none
+      the best of me. I can get away all right, and I will, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but fell back
+      with a cry of pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dar, dar,&rdquo; Mandy murmured, putting the pillow under the poor, cramped
+      neck, and smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's forehead. &ldquo;Yuh done hurt
+      yo'sef for suah dis time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pastor had taken a step toward the bed. His look of amusement had
+      changed to one of pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad fall, and you can't get away
+      just yet, nor see your friends until you are better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's only a scratch,&rdquo; Polly whimpered. &ldquo;I can do my work; I got to.&rdquo; One
+      more feeble effort and she succumbed, with a faint &ldquo;Jimminy Crickets!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle Toby told me that you were a very good little girl,&rdquo; Douglas said,
+      as he drew up a chair and sat down by her side, confident by the
+      expression on her face that at last he was master of the situation. &ldquo;Do
+      you think he would like you to behave like this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sure am on the blink,&rdquo; she sighed, as she settled back wearily upon the
+      pillow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll be all right soon,&rdquo; Douglas answered, cheerily. &ldquo;Mandy and I will
+      help the time to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recollect now,&rdquo; Polly faltered, without hearing him. &ldquo;It was the last
+      hoop. Jim seemed to have a hunch I was goin' to be in for trouble when I
+      went into the ring. Bingo must a felt it, too. He kept a-pullin' and
+      a-jerkin' from the start. I got myself together to make the last jump an'&mdash;I
+      can't remember no more.&rdquo; Her head drooped and her eyes closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't try just now if I were you,&rdquo; Douglas answered tenderly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's my WHEEL, ain't it?&rdquo; Polly questioned, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yoah what, chile?&rdquo; Mandy exclaimed, as she turned from the table, where
+      she had been rolling up the unused bandages left from the doctor's call
+      the night before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say it's my creeper, my paddle,&rdquo; Polly explained, trying to locate a
+      few of her many pains. &ldquo;Gee, but that hurts!&rdquo; She tried to bend her ankle.
+      &ldquo;Is it punctured?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only sprained,&rdquo; Douglas answered, striving to control his amusement at
+      the expression on Mandy's puzzled face. &ldquo;Better not talk any more about
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?&rdquo; she asked, turning
+      her head to one side and studying him quizzically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think there is,&rdquo; he replied good-naturedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?&rdquo; she asked, as she studied the
+      walls of the unfamiliar room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We brought you here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a swell place,&rdquo; she conceded grudgingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are comfortable,&rdquo; he admitted, as a tell-tale smile again hovered
+      about his lips. He was thinking of the changes that he must presently make
+      in Miss Polly's vocabulary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this the 'big top?' she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The&mdash;what?&rdquo; he stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The main tent,&rdquo; she explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no; not exactly. It's going to be your room now, Miss Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My room! Gee! Think a' that!&rdquo; she gasped, as the possibility of her
+      actually having a room all of her own took hold of her mind. &ldquo;Much
+      obliged,&rdquo; she said with a nod, feeling that something was expected of her.
+      She knew no other phrase of gratitude than the one &ldquo;Muvver&rdquo; Jim and Toby
+      had taught her to say to the manager when she received from him the first
+      stick of red and white striped candy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're very welcome,&rdquo; Douglas answered with a ring of genuine feeling in
+      his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awful quiet, ain't it?&rdquo; she ventured, after a pause. &ldquo;Guess that's what
+      woke me up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the thought of quiet as a disturber, and
+      added that he feared it might at first be rather dull for her, but that
+      Jim and Toby would send her news of the circus, and that she could write
+      to them as soon as she was better.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write much,&rdquo;
+       Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will write for you,&rdquo; the pastor volunteered, understanding her plight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will?&rdquo; For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every day,&rdquo; Douglas promised solemnly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you will show me how?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long am I in for?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor can tell better about that when he comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor! So&mdash;it's as bad as that, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that need not frighten you,&rdquo; Douglas answered consolingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't frightened,&rdquo; she bridled quickly; &ldquo;I ain't never scared of
+      nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm a-kickin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they will get along all right,&rdquo; he said reassuringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get along?&rdquo; Polly flashed with sudden resentment. &ldquo;Get along WITHOUT MY
+      ACT!&rdquo; It was apparent from her look of astonishment that Douglas had
+      completely lost whatever ground he had heretofore gained in her respect.
+      &ldquo;Say, have you seen that show?&rdquo; She waited for his answer with pity and
+      contempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; admitted John, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like that. I'm
+      the whole thing in that push,&rdquo; she said with an air of self-complacency;
+      &ldquo;and with me down and out, that show will be on the bum for fair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; was all Douglas could say, confused by the sudden
+      volley of unfamiliar words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're kiddin' me,&rdquo; she said, turning her head to one side as was her
+      wont when assailed by suspicion; &ldquo;you MUST a seen me ride?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus,&rdquo; Douglas told her
+      half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; cried Polly, incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lordy no, chile; he ain't nebber seed none ob dem tings,&rdquo; Mandy
+      interrupted, as she tried to arrange a few short-stemmed posies in a
+      variegated bouquet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what do you think of that!&rdquo; Polly gasped. &ldquo;You're the first rube I
+      ever saw that hadn't.&rdquo; She was looking at him as though he were a
+      curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I'm a rube!&rdquo; Douglas shook his head with a sad, little smile and
+      good-naturedly agreed that he had sometimes feared as much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what we always calls a guy like you,&rdquo; she explained ingenuously,
+      and added hopefully: &ldquo;Well, you MUST a' seen our parade&mdash;all the
+      pikers see that&mdash;IT don't cost nothin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the charge of being a piker,&rdquo;
+       Douglas admitted half-sheepishly, &ldquo;for I did see the parade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion cage,&rdquo; she
+      began excitedly. &ldquo;You remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a little confused in my mind&mdash;&rdquo; he caught her look of
+      amazement, &ldquo;just AT PRESENT,&rdquo; he stammered, feeling her wrath again about
+      to descend upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand,&rdquo; she explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sheet!&rdquo; Mandy shrieked from her corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;the billboards&mdash;the pictures,&rdquo; Polly said, growing
+      impatient at their persistent stupidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She sure am a funny talkin' thing!&rdquo; mumbled Mandy to herself, as she
+      clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?&rdquo; Polly asked with a
+      lingering suspicion in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dead sure&rdquo;; and Douglas smiled to himself as he lapsed into her
+      vernacular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a moment's pause. Polly realised for the first time that she
+      must actually readjust herself to a new order of things. Her eyes again
+      roved about the room. It was a cheerful place in which to be imprisoned&mdash;even
+      Polly could not deny that. The broad window at the back with its white and
+      pink chintz curtains on the inside, and its frame of ivy on the outside,
+      spoke of singing birds and sunshine all day long. Everything from the
+      white ceiling to the sweet-smelling matting that covered the floor was
+      spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed rocker near the curved window-seat
+      with its pretty pillows told of days when a convalescent might look in
+      comfort at the garden beneath; the counterpane, with its old-fashioned
+      rose pattern, the little white tidies on the back of each chair, and Mandy
+      crooning beside the window, all helped to make a homelike picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She wondered what Jim and Toby would say if they could see her now,
+      sitting like a queen in the midst of her soft coverlets, with no need to
+      raise even a finger to wait upon herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't it the limit?&rdquo; she sighed, and with that Jim and Toby seemed to
+      drift farther away. She began to see their life apart from hers. She could
+      picture Jim with his head in his hands. She could hear his sharp orders to
+      the men. He was always short with the others when anything went wrong with
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps,&rdquo; she murmured, as a cloud stole
+      across the flower-like face; then the tired muscles relaxed, and she
+      ceased to rebel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Muvver Jim&rdquo;? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her to a
+      knowledge of his presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what I calls him,&rdquo; Polly explained, &ldquo;but the fellows calls him
+      'Big Jim.' You might not think Jim could be a good mother just to look at
+      him, but he is; only, sometimes, you can't tell him things you could a
+      real mother,&rdquo; she added, half sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your real mother went away when you were very young?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she didn't go AWAY&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No?&rdquo; There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went out,&rdquo; Polly corrected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out!&rdquo; he echoed blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;finished&mdash;Lights out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, an accident.&rdquo; Douglas understood at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like to talk about it.&rdquo; Polly raised herself on her elbow and
+      looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit of forbidden
+      family history. It was this look in the round eyes that had made Jim so
+      often declare that the kid knew everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a knowed how she wound up. She was
+      the best rider of her time, everybody says so, but she cashed in by
+      fallin' off a skate what didn't have no more ginger 'an a kitten. If you
+      can beat that?&rdquo; She gazed at him with her lips pressed tightly together,
+      evidently expecting some startling expression of wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your father?&rdquo; Douglas asked rather lamely, being at a loss for any
+      adequate comment upon a tragedy which the child before him was too
+      desolate even to understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, DAD'S finish was all right. He got his'n in a lion's cage where he
+      worked. There was nothing slow about his end.&rdquo; She looked up for his
+      approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For de Lord's sake!&rdquo; Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's
+      conversation grew upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now I'm down and out,&rdquo; Polly concluded with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But THIS is nothing serious,&rdquo; said the pastor, trying to cheer her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's serious ENOUGH, with a whole show a'-dependin' on you. Maybe you
+      don't know how it feels to have to knock off work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I do,&rdquo; Douglas answered quickly. &ldquo;I was ill a while ago myself.
+      I had to be in bed day after day, thinking of dozens of things that I
+      ought to be doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was you ever floored?&rdquo; Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as she
+      studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Deed he was, chile,&rdquo; Mandy cried, feeling that her opportunity had now
+      arrived; &ldquo;an' I had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. He act jes' like
+      you did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he?&rdquo; Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had &ldquo;nothin' on
+      her,&rdquo; as she would have put it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to have heard him,&rdquo; continued Mandy, made eloquent by Polly's
+      show of interest. &ldquo;'What will dose poor folks do?' he kept a-sayin'. 'yes'
+      yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him. 'Dem poor folks will be better off dan
+      dey would be a-comin' to yoah funeral.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor folks?&rdquo; Polly questioned. &ldquo;Do you give money to folks? We are always
+      itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his disapproved
+      methods, Mandy had continued eagerly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to church and preach&mdash;&rdquo; She got
+      no further. A sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and Douglas to
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Preach!&rdquo; Polly almost shouted. She looked at him with genuine alarm this
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will do, Mandy,&rdquo; Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome drama
+      gathering about his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Great Barnum and Bailey!&rdquo; Polly exclaimed, looking at him as though he
+      were the very last thing in the world she had ever expected to see. &ldquo;Are
+      you a skypilot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what he am, chile.&rdquo; Mandy slipped the words in slyly, for she knew
+      that they were against the pastor's wishes, but she was unable to restrain
+      her mischievous impulse to sow the seeds of curiosity that would soon bear
+      fruit in the inquisitive mind of the little invalid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?&rdquo; She continued to
+      study the uncomfortable man at her side. &ldquo;I never thought I'd be a-talkin'
+      to one of you guys. What's your name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Douglas.&rdquo; He spoke shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't you got no handle to it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you mean my Christian name, it's John.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't look like I
+      s'posed they did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're a'most as
+      good lookin' as our strong man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried parson,&rdquo; Mandy
+      chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's discomfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Looks don't play a very important part in my work,&rdquo; Douglas answered
+      curtly. Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly anxious to get to a
+      less personal topic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they count for a whole lot with us.&rdquo; She nodded her head decidedly.
+      &ldquo;How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About a year,&rdquo; Douglas answered, with something of a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A year!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;In a burg like this? You must have an awful lot of
+      laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long.&rdquo; She was wise in the
+      ways of professional success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not many, I'm afraid.&rdquo; He wondered, for the first time, if this might be
+      the reason for his rather indifferent success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A rep?&rdquo; he repeated in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, repertory&mdash;different acts&mdash;entries, some calls 'em. Uncle
+      Toby's got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference in the big
+      towns where you have a run.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I understand,&rdquo; Douglas answered in a tone of relief. &ldquo;Well, I try to
+      say something new each Sunday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of spiels do you give 'em?&rdquo; she inquired with growing interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves and to
+      forget their week-day troubles.&rdquo; He had never had occasion to define his
+      efforts so minutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's jes' the same as us,&rdquo; Polly told him with an air of
+      condescension; &ldquo;only circuses draws more people 'an churches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment,&rdquo; Douglas
+      answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were many tricks in
+      the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. And, after all, what
+      was his preaching but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to hold his
+      congregation by what he was saying, his listeners grew drowsy, and his
+      sermon fell short of its desired effect. It was true that his position and
+      hers had points of similarity. She was apparently successful; as for
+      himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very hard and that
+      sometimes a tired mother or a sad-faced child looked up at him with a
+      smile that made the service seem worth while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was quick
+      to find consolation for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't got all the worst of it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;If we tried to play a dump
+      like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You certainly must give
+      'em a great show,&rdquo; she added, surveying him with growing interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't make much difference about the show&mdash;&rdquo; Douglas began, but
+      he was quickly interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus. One year ye give 'em the
+      rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the next year you hand 'em
+      a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that the way it is with a church show?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much the same,&rdquo; Douglas admitted half-amusedly, half-regretfully. &ldquo;Very
+      often when I work the hardest, I seem to do the least good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess our troubles is pretty much alike.&rdquo; Polly nodded with a motherly
+      air of condescension. &ldquo;Only there ain't so much danger in your act.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not so sure about that,&rdquo; he laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you take my tip,&rdquo; she leaned forward as though about to impart a
+      very valuable bit of information. &ldquo;Don't you never go in for ridin'. There
+      ain't no act on earth so hard as a ridin' act. The rest of the bunch has
+      got it easy alongside of us. Take the fellows on the trapeze. They always
+      get their tackle up in jes' the same place. Take the balancin' acts; there
+      ain't no difference in their layouts. Take any of 'em as depends on
+      regular props; and they ain't got much chance a-goin' wrong. But say, when
+      yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't never no two times alike. If
+      your horse is feelin' good, the ground is stumbly; if the ground ain't on
+      the blink the horse is wobbly. Ther's always somethin' wrong somewheres,
+      and yer ain't never knowin' how it's goin' ter end&mdash;especially when
+      you got to do a careful act like mine. There's a girl, Eloise, in our
+      bunch, what does a SHOWY act on a horse what Barker calls Barbarian. She
+      goes on in my place sometimes&mdash;and say, them rubes applauds her as
+      much as me, an' her stunts is baby tricks alongside o' mine. It's enough
+      to make you sick o' art.&rdquo; She shook her head dolefully, then sat up with
+      renewed interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, an' you got ter know
+      your horse an' your ground for that. Now you get wise ter what I'm
+      a-tellin' yer, and don't you NEVER go into ANYTHIN' what depends on
+      ANYTHIN' else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Polly, I won't.&rdquo; Douglas somehow felt that he was very much
+      indebted to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I seen a church show once,&rdquo; Polly said suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did?&rdquo; Douglas asked, with new interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you like it?&rdquo; he questioned, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't make nothin' out of it&mdash;I don't care much for readin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it isn't ALL reading,&rdquo; he corrected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He got the whole thing right out
+      of a book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that was only his text,&rdquo; laughed Douglas. &ldquo;Text?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his congrega&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Easy! Easy!&rdquo; she interrupted; &ldquo;come again with that, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told them the meaning of what he read.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, I don't know what he
+      told 'em, but it didn't mean anythin' to me. But maybe your show is
+      better'n his was,&rdquo; she added, trying to pacify him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused or grateful for Polly's
+      ever-increasing sympathy. Before he could trust his twitching lips to
+      answer, she had put another question to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this Sunday?&rdquo; she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and looking
+      about the room as though everything had changed colour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And YOU GOT A MATINEE?&rdquo; she exclaimed, incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have services,&rdquo; he corrected, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WE rest up on SUNDAYS,&rdquo; she said in a tone of deep commiseration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon another
+      discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two professions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About Ruth and Naomi.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth and who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naomi,&rdquo; he repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naomi,&rdquo; she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she listened
+      to the soft cadences of the word. &ldquo;I never heard that name afore. It 'ud
+      look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a Bible name, honey,&rdquo; Mandy said, eager to get into the
+      conversation. &ldquo;Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I LIKE to look at PICTURES,&rdquo; Polly answered tentatively. Mandy crossed
+      the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel engravings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt. Some of the folks
+      is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend, but just
+      then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large, old-fashioned Bible, and
+      Douglas helped to place the ponderous book before the invalid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See, honey, dar dey is,&rdquo; the old woman said, pointing to the picture of
+      Ruth and Naomi.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?&rdquo; Polly gasped, and her eyes shone with
+      wonder. &ldquo;Which one 's Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dis one,&rdquo; said Mandy, pointing with her thumb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does it say
+      about 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can read it for yourself,&rdquo; Douglas answered gently. There was
+      something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I ain't much on readin'&mdash;OUT LOUD,&rdquo; she faltered, growing
+      suddenly conscious of her deficiencies. &ldquo;Read it for me, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; and he drew his chair nearer to the bed. One strong hand
+      supported the other half of the Bible, and his head was very near to hers
+      as his deep, full voice pronounced the solemn words in which Ruth pleaded
+      so many years before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Entreat me not to leave thee,'&rdquo; he read, &ldquo;'or to return from following
+      after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I
+      will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kind o' pretty, ain't it?&rdquo; Polly said softly. She felt awkward and
+      constrained and a little overawed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are far more beautiful things than that,&rdquo; Douglas assured her
+      enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are?&rdquo; And her eyes opened wide with wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; he replied, pitying more and more the starvation of mind
+      and longing to bring to it floods of light and enrichment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel,&rdquo; and she fell to studying him
+      solemnly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any more to that story?&rdquo; she asked, ignoring his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you read me a little more?&rdquo; She was very humble now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so
+      to me and more also, if ought but death part me and thee.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Their eyes met. There was a long pause. Suddenly the sharp, sweet notes of
+      the church bell brought John Douglas to his feet with a start of surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you got to go?&rdquo; Polly asked regretfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the church. Open the window,
+      Mandy!&rdquo; And he passed out of the door and quickly down the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate his nephew for the ministry,
+      the boy was less enthusiastic than his mother. He did not remonstrate,
+      however, for it had been the custom of generations for at least one son of
+      each Douglas family to preach the gospel of Calvinism, and his father's
+      career as an architect and landscape gardener had not left him much
+      capital.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an artist by the few who
+      understood his talents, but there is small demand for the builder of
+      picturesque houses in the little business towns of the Middle West, and at
+      last he passed away, leaving his son only the burden of his financial
+      failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the profession in which his
+      father had fared so badly. The hopeless, defeated look on the departed
+      man's face had always haunted the boy, who was artist enough to feel his
+      father's genius intuitively, and human enough to resent the injustice of
+      his fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas's mother had suffered so much because of the impractical efforts
+      of her husband, that she discouraged the early tendencies of the son
+      toward drawing and mathematics and tried to direct his thoughts toward
+      creeds and Bible history. When he went away for his collegiate course, she
+      was less in touch with him; and he was able to steal time from his
+      athletics to devote to his art. He spent his vacations in a neighbouring
+      city before a drawing board in the office of a distinguished architect,
+      his father's friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, and he was relieved when at
+      last he received his degree in theology and found himself appointed to a
+      small church in the Middle West.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His step was very bright the morning he first went up the path that led to
+      his new home. His artistic sense was charmed by the picturesque approach
+      to the church and parsonage. The view toward the tree-encircled spire was
+      unobstructed, for the church had been built on the outskirts of the town
+      to allow for a growth that had not materialised. He threw up his head and
+      gazed at the blue hills, with their background of soft, slow-moving
+      clouds. The smell of the fresh earth, the bursting of the buds, the
+      forming of new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was very near to
+      pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped half way up the path and considered the advantages of a new
+      front to the narrow-eaved cottage, and when his foot touched the first
+      step of the vine-covered porch, he was far more concerned about a new
+      portico than with any thought of his first sermon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His speculations were abruptly cut short by Mandy, who bustled out of the
+      door with a wide smile of welcome on her black face, and an unmistakable
+      ambition to take him immediately under her motherly wing. She was much
+      concerned because the church people had not met the new pastor at the
+      station and brought him to the house. Upon learning that Douglas had
+      purposely avoided their escort, preferring to come to his new home the
+      first time alone, she made up her mind that she was going to like him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy had long been a fixture in the parsonage. She and her worse half,
+      Hasty Jones, had come to know and discuss the weaknesses of the many
+      clergymen who had come and gone, the deacons, and the congregation, both
+      individually and collectively. She confided to Hasty, that she &ldquo;didn't
+      blame de new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the study that night, when she and Hasty helped Douglas to unpack his
+      many boxes of books, they were as eager as children about the drawings and
+      pictures which he showed them. His mind had gone beyond the parsonage
+      front now, and he described to them the advantage of adding an extra ten
+      feet to the church spire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy felt herself almost an artist when she and Hasty bade the pastor
+      good night, for she was still quivering from the contagion of Douglas's
+      enthusiasm. Here, at last, was a master who could do something besides
+      find fault with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat Mars Douglas and dat ere
+      Deacon Strong clinches,&rdquo; she said to Hasty as they locked the doors and
+      turned out the hall light. &ldquo;Did yuh done see his jaw?&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;He
+      look laughin' enough NOW, but jes' yuh wait till he done set dat'ere jaw a
+      his'n and afar ain't nobody what's goin' ter unsot it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin',&rdquo; said Hasty, hoping for
+      Mandy's assurance to the contrary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; shrieked Mandy. &ldquo;Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby already
+      a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' proper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere widow?&rdquo; asked Hasty,
+      already enjoying the explosion which he knew his defence of the widow was
+      sure to excite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 'bout her clean floors,&rdquo;
+       answered Mandy, shortly. She turned out the last light, and tiptoed
+      upstairs, trying not to disturb the pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      John Douglas was busy already with pencil and paper, making notes of the
+      plans for the church and parsonage, which he would perfect later on. Alas,
+      for Douglas's day dreams! It was not many weeks before he understood with
+      a heavy heart that the deacons were far too dull and uninspired to share
+      his faith in beauty as an aid to man's spiritual uplift.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We think we've done pretty well by this church,&rdquo; said Deacon Strong, who
+      was the business head, the political boss, and the moral mentor of the
+      small town's affairs. &ldquo;Just you worry along with the preachin', young man,
+      and we'll attend to the buyin' and buildin' operations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas's mind was too active to content itself wholly with the writing of
+      sermons and the routine of formal, pastoral calls. He was a keen
+      humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be interested in the heart
+      stories and disappointments of many of the village unfortunates, some of
+      whom were outside his congregation. The mentally sick, the despondent, who
+      needed words of hope and courage more than dry talks on theology, found in
+      him an ever ready friend and adviser, and these came to love and depend on
+      him. But he was never popular with the creed-bound element of the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy had her wish about being on the spot the first time that the
+      parson's jaw squared itself at Deacon Strong. The deacon had called at the
+      parsonage to demand that Douglas put a stop to the boys playing baseball
+      in the adjoining lot on Sunday. Douglas had been unable to see the
+      deacon's point of view. He declared that baseball was a healthy and
+      harmless form of exercise, that the air was meant to be breathed, and that
+      the boys who enjoyed the game on Sunday were principally those who were
+      kept indoors by work on other days. The close of the interview was
+      unsatisfactory both to Douglas and the deacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up an' down de back,&rdquo; Mandy said
+      later, when she described their talk to Hasty. &ldquo;Dat 'ere deacon don' know
+      nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson.&rdquo; She tossed her head with a
+      feeling of superiority. She knew the way. Make him forget himself with a
+      laugh. Excite his sympathy with some village underdog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MANDY had secretly enjoyed the commotion caused by the little circus-rider
+      being left in the parsonage, at first, because of her inborn love of
+      mischief, and later, because Polly had become second in her heart only to
+      the pastor. She went about her work, crooning softly during the days of
+      Polly's convalescence. The deep, steady voice of the pastor reading aloud
+      in the pretty window overhead was company. She would often climb the
+      stairs to tell them some bit of village gossip, and leave them laughing at
+      a quaint comment about some inquisitive sister of the church, who had
+      happened to incur her displeasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly down to the sun-lit garden
+      beneath the window; and Mandy fluttered about arranging the cushions with
+      motherly solicitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      More days slipped by, and Polly began to creep through the little,
+      soft-leaved trees at the back of the church, and to look for the deep,
+      blue, sweet-scented violets. When she was able, Douglas took her with him
+      to visit some of the outlying houses of the poor. Her woman's instinct was
+      quick to perceive many small needs in their lives that he had overlooked,
+      and to suggest simple, inexpensive joys that made them her devoted
+      friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their evenings were divided between making plans for these unfortunates
+      and reading aloud from the Bible or other books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Polly gained courage, Douglas sometimes persuaded her to read to him&mdash;and
+      the little corrections that he made at these times soon became noticeable
+      in her manner of speech. She was so eager, so starved for knowledge, that
+      she drank it as fast as he could give it. It was during their talks about
+      grammar that Mandy generally fell asleep in her rocker, her unfinished
+      sewing still in her lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was always shared equally by
+      Mandy and Hasty, Polly and the pastor. But at last a letter came from Jim
+      only, and Douglas, who was asked to read it, faltered and stopped after
+      the first few words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any longer, Poll,&rdquo; the letter
+      began, &ldquo;we ain't got Toby with us no more. He didn't have no accident, it
+      wasn't that. He just seemed kinder sick and ailin' like, ever since the
+      night we had to leave you behind. I used to get him warm drinks and
+      things, and try to pull 'im through, but he was always a-chillin' and
+      a-achin'. If it wasn't one thing the matter, it was another. I done all I
+      knowed you'd a-wanted me to, an' the rest of the folks was mighty white to
+      him, too. I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he was. He couldn't get no
+      more laughs in the show, so Barker had to put on another man with him.
+      That kinder hurt him too&mdash;I s'pose&mdash;an' showed him the way that
+      things was a-goin'. It was just after that, he wrote the parson a-tellin'
+      him to never let you come back. He seemed to a' got an idee in his head
+      that you was happier where you was. He wouldn't let me tell ye 'bout his
+      feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might mebbe make you come back.
+      'She's diff'runt from us,' he was allus a-sayin'. 'I never 'spected to
+      keep 'er.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas stopped. Polly was waiting, her face white and drawn. He had not
+      told her of Toby's letter, because with it had come a request to &ldquo;say
+      nothin' to the kid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt that Polly was controlling herself with an effort until he should
+      reach the end of Jim's letter, so he hurried on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The parson's promise didn't get to him none too quick,&rdquo; he read. &ldquo;That
+      seemed to be what he was waitin' for. He give up the night it come, and I
+      got him a little room in a hotel after the show, and let one of the other
+      fellers get the stuff out o' town, so's I could stay with him up to the
+      finish. It come 'round mornin'. There wasn't much to it&mdash;he just
+      seemed tired and peaceful like. 'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' he said,
+      meanin' the parson. 'She knows, she allus knows,' he whispered, meanin'
+      you, Poll, and then he was on his way. He'd already give me what was saved
+      up for you, and I'm sendin' it along with this&mdash;&rdquo; A blue money order
+      for two hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from the envelope when
+      Douglas opened it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got everythin' ready afore I went on the next day, an' I went up and
+      saw the little spot on the hill where they was goin' to stow him. It
+      looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said she'd put some flowers on to
+      it now and then. It was YOU what made me think o' that, Poll, 'cause it
+      seemed to me what you would a' done; you was always so daffy about
+      flowers, you and him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess this letter's too long for me to be a-sayin' much about the show,
+      but the 'Leap-a-Death' girl got hern last week. She wasn't strong enough
+      for the job, nohow. I done what I could for her outside the show, 'cause I
+      knowed how you was always a-feelin' 'bout her. I guess the
+      'Leap-a-Death's' husband is goin' to jump his job soon, if he gets enough
+      saved up, 'cause him and Barker can't hit it off no more. We got a good
+      deal o' trouble among the animals, too. None o' the snakes is sheddin'
+      like they ought to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot bandage around
+      that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too fresh with Trixy's grub the other
+      night, and the new giraffe's got the croup in that seven-foot neck o'
+      his'n. I guess you'll think I got the pip for fair this time, so I'll just
+      get onto myself now and cut this short. I'll be writin' you agin when we
+      hit Morgantown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your old Muvver Jim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still resting upon
+      it. He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken figure in the opposite
+      chair. Polly had made no sound, but her head had slipped lower and lower
+      and she now sat very quietly with her face in her hands. She had been
+      taught by Toby and Jim never to whimper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a plucky lot they are,&rdquo; thought Douglas, as he considered these
+      three lonely souls, each accepting whatever fate brought with no rebellion
+      or even surprise. It was a strange world of stoics in which these children
+      of the amusement arena fought and lost. They came and went like phantoms,
+      with as little consciousness of their own best interests as of the great,
+      moving powers of the world about them. They felt no throes of envy, no
+      bitterness. They loved and worked and &ldquo;went their way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For once the pastor was powerless in the presence of grief. Both he and
+      Mandy left the room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to be spared the
+      outburst of tears that a sympathetic word might bring upon her. They
+      allowed her to remain alone for a time, then Mandy entered softly with a
+      tender good night and Douglas followed her cheerily as though nothing at
+      all had happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was many weeks before Polly again became a companion to Douglas and
+      Mandy, but they did not intrude upon her grief. They waited patiently for
+      the time when youth should again assert itself, and bring back their
+      laughing mate to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Polly understood that Toby was ACTUALLY GONE, it seemed to her that
+      she could never laugh again. She had been too young to realise the
+      inevitableness of death when it came to her mother, and now she could
+      scarcely believe that Toby would never, never come back to her. She felt
+      that she must be able to DRAG him back, that she could not go on without
+      him. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was for all his care of her.
+      She thought of the thousand little things that she might have done for
+      him. She longed to recall every impatient word to him. His gentle
+      reproachful eyes were always haunting her. &ldquo;You must come back, Toby!&rdquo; she
+      cried. &ldquo;You must!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only when body and mind had worn themselves out with yearning, that
+      a numbness at last crept over her, and out of this grew a gradual
+      consciousness of things about her and a returning sense of her obligation
+      to others. She tried to answer in her old, smiling way and to keep her
+      mind upon what they were saying, instead of letting it wander away to the
+      past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the colour creeping back to her
+      cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She joined the pastor again in his visits to the poor. The women of the
+      town would often see them passing and would either whisper to each other,
+      shrug their shoulders, or lift their eyebrows with smiling insinuations;
+      but Polly and the pastor were too much absorbed in each other to take much
+      notice of what was going on about them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had not gone for their walk to-day, because Mandy had needed Polly to
+      help make ready for the social to be held in the Sunday-school-room
+      to-night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas shut himself up in the
+      study, and she was sure that he was writing; so when the village children
+      stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's new-made cookies, she used
+      her customary trick to get them away. &ldquo;Tag&mdash;you're it!&rdquo; she cried,
+      and then dashed out the back door, pursued by the laughing, screaming
+      youngsters. Mandy followed the children to the porch and stood looking
+      after them, as the mad, little band scurried about the back yard, darted
+      in and out amongst the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just
+      beyond the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day the air
+      was warm, and the children were wearing their summer dresses. Polly's
+      lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by comparison with the children
+      about her. She wore a plain, simple gown of white, which Mandy had helped
+      her to make. It had been cut ankle-length, for Polly was now seventeen.
+      Her quaint, old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her trick of
+      knotting her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem older.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill, then began
+      bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty had left under the
+      vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at the parsonage. A social
+      always meant perturbation for Mandy. She called sharply to Hasty, as he
+      came down the path which made a short cut to the village:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So's you'se back, is you?&rdquo; she asked, sarcastically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, I'se back,&rdquo; answered Hasty, good-naturedly, as he sank upon an
+      empty box that had held some things for the social, and pretended to wipe
+      the perspiration from his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago,&rdquo; said Mandy, as
+      she took the letters and papers from his hand. &ldquo;Five minutes is plenty ob
+      time for any nigger to do dat job.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I done been detained,&rdquo; Hasty drawled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on,&rdquo; Mandy snapped at
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whar's Miss Polly?&rdquo; Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you done fetch
+      that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I wants her,&rdquo; Hasty insisted. &ldquo;I'se been on very 'ticular business
+      what she ought to know 'bout.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Business?&rdquo; she repeated. &ldquo;What kind ob business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got to fix de Sunday-school-room,&rdquo; said Hasty, as he perceived her
+      growing curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You come heah, nigger!&rdquo; Mandy called, determined that none of the village
+      doings should escape her. &ldquo;Out wid it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's 'bout de circus,&rdquo; Hasty answered? seating himself again on the
+      box. &ldquo;Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next month dey's comin'
+      here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?&rdquo; Mandy's eyes grew large
+      with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;De very same,&rdquo; and Hasty nodded mysteriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How you know dat?&rdquo; Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show painted on
+      it. It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all de pictures what dey
+      pastes up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I done thought Miss Polly might want to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions into Miss
+      Polly's head. She don' care no more 'bout dem things since her Uncle Toby
+      done die. She done been satisfied right whar she am. Jes' you let her be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't done nothin',&rdquo; Hasty protested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nebber do do nothin',&rdquo; growled Mandy. &ldquo;Go long now, and get a-work. Mos'
+      four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hasty picked up the empty box and the step-ladder and went out through the
+      gate. He had barely disappeared when a peal of laughter was heard from the
+      hillside, and before Mandy could get out of the way, the youngsters came
+      tumbling down the path again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lawsy, lawsy,&rdquo; she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging the
+      children. &ldquo;You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tag! you're it!&rdquo; Polly cried, as she touched the widow's auburn-haired
+      offspring on the sleeve. There was much wailing when Willie passed the tag
+      to little Jennie, the smallest girl in the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't play no more,&rdquo; she sobbed; &ldquo;'cause I's always it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old circus song that the children
+      had learned to love; and the little ones huddled about her in a circle to
+      hear of the wonderful &ldquo;Van Amberg&rdquo; who used to &ldquo;walk right into the lion's
+      cage and put his head in the lion's mouth.&rdquo; The children were in a state
+      of nerves that did credit to Polly as an entertainer, when Hasty broke in
+      upon the song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have one right now.&rdquo; And turning to the eager mites at her side, Polly
+      told them to run along into the grove, and that she'd come pretty soon to
+      teach them a new game.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The youngsters went screaming and laughing on their way, and she breathed
+      a sigh of relief as she threw herself down on the rustic seat that
+      encircled the elm tree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Hasty?&rdquo; she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble with
+      Mandy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's 'bout de circus,&rdquo; Hasty informed her bluntly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The circus?&rdquo; She rose and crossed to him quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's in Wakefield&mdash;en' nex' month it's a-comin' here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here?&rdquo; Polly gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you'd want ter know,&rdquo; said Hasty, little surprised at her lack
+      of enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo; She turned away and pretended to look at the flowers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus,&rdquo; said Hasty,
+      uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake; but before
+      Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the house, carrying baskets and
+      food, which Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. She looked at the
+      girl's troubled face and drooping shoulders in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What make you look so serious, Honey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just thinking,&rdquo; said Polly absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!&rdquo; She was anxious to draw the
+      girl out of her reverie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like it?&rdquo; Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a
+      moment before. &ldquo;Do you think Mr. John will like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. I done got
+      a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you think HE ebber seed
+      it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve for all
+      dat man know.&rdquo; Polly looked disappointed. &ldquo;But udder folks sees,&rdquo; Mandy
+      continued, comfortingly, &ldquo;an' you certainly look mighty fine. Why, you's
+      just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I'm well now and able to work again.&rdquo; There was no enthusiasm in her
+      tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how unwelcome the old life
+      would be to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Massa John.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so? Do I help him?&mdash;Do I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school what the
+      chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a lot of
+      things what nobody else could a-learned 'im.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't say 'learned him,'&rdquo; Polly corrected; &ldquo;you must say 'taught
+      him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat.&rdquo; She rolled her large eyes at her young
+      instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. &ldquo;She's gwine ter
+      have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells&rdquo; thought Mandy, and she made ready
+      to protest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, ain't you nebber&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was interrupted by a quick &ldquo;Have you never&rdquo; from Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It dun make no difference what you say,&rdquo; Mandy snapped, &ldquo;so long as folks
+      understands you.&rdquo; She always grew restive under these ordeals; but Polly's
+      firm controlled manner generally conquered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, it does,&rdquo; answered Polly. &ldquo;I used to think it didn't; but it
+      does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks look down on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's satisfied de way I be,&rdquo; declared Mandy, as she plumped herself down
+      on the garden bench and began to fidget with resentment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The way I am,&rdquo; Polly persisted, sweetly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' keepin de
+      light burnin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens set&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; interrupted Mandy; &ldquo;I's doin' it NOW.&rdquo; For a time she preserved
+      an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. &ldquo;If I had to think
+      ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open my mouth, I'd done been
+      tongue-tied afore I was born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could teach you in no time,&rdquo; volunteered Polly, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to be teached,&rdquo; protested Mandy, doggedly. &ldquo;Hast Jones says
+      I's too smart anyhow. Men don't like women knowin' too much&mdash;it
+      skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, and I ain't a-tryin' to get
+      nobody else's,&rdquo; Mandy wound up flatly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he'd like you all the better,&rdquo; persisted Polly, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO nigger,&rdquo; snapped Mandy. &ldquo;I's a
+      busy woman, I is.&rdquo; She made for the house, then curiosity conquered her
+      and she came back to Polly's side. &ldquo;See here, honey, whose been l'arnin'
+      you all dem nonsense?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all the things he tells me, and at
+      night I write them down and say them over. Do you see this, Mandy?&rdquo; She
+      took a small red book from her belt and put it into Mandy's black chubby
+      fists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see some writin', if dat's what you mean,&rdquo; Mandy answered, helplessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are my don'ts,&rdquo; Polly confided, as she pointed enthusiastically to
+      worn pages of finely written notes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'se WHAT, chile?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The things I mustn't do or say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?&rdquo; Mandy looked
+      incredulous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me,&rdquo; she said with growing
+      pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?&rdquo; Polly pointed reproachfully to the
+      reminder in the little red book. It was a fortunate thing that Willie
+      interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's temper was becoming very
+      uncertain. The children had grown weary waiting for Polly, and Willie had
+      been sent to fetch her. Polly offered to help Mandy with the decorations,
+      but Willie won the day, and she was running away hand in hand with him
+      when Douglas came out of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;My, how fine you look!&rdquo; He turned Polly about
+      and surveyed the new gown admiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did see it! He did see it!&rdquo; cried Polly, gleefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come,&rdquo; Mandy grunted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Willie!&rdquo; called the girl, and ran out laughing through the trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's this?&rdquo; Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward fingers,
+      and began to read: &ldquo;'Hens set&mdash;'&rdquo; He frowned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,'&rdquo; interrupted Mandy, disgustedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her 'don'ts'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She done been set&mdash;sit&mdash;settin' up nights tryin' to learn what
+      you done tole her,&rdquo; stuttered Mandy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear little Polly,&rdquo; he murmured, then closed the book and put it into his
+      pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter IX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby came
+      through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage, carrying bunting for
+      the social. She was followed by Miss Perkins with a bucket of pickles,
+      which Mandy promptly placed on top of Mrs. Elverson's ice cream. The women
+      explained that they had come to put the finishing touches to the
+      decorations. If anything was needed to increase Mandy's dislike of the
+      widow, it was this announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not been home
+      since the afternoon school session. Upon learning that they were with
+      Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and Douglas dispatched Mandy
+      for them. She saw that her implied distrust of Polly had annoyed him, and
+      she was about to apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on the scene,
+      also carrying baskets and parcels for the social.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong led the way. He always led the way and always told Elverson what to
+      think. They had been talking excitedly as they neared the parsonage, for
+      Strong disapproved of the recent changes which the pastor had made in the
+      church service. He and Douglas had clashed more than once since the
+      baseball argument, and the deacon had realised more and more that he had
+      met a will quite as strong as his own. His failure to bend the parson to
+      his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his mind from his
+      business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you beat that!&rdquo; he would exclaim as he turned away from some
+      disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in her
+      direction as she came running into the garden, leading the widow's two
+      children.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the gate, then
+      hurried to Mrs. Willoughby, begging that the children be allowed to remain
+      a little longer. She was making up a new game, she said, and needed Willie
+      and Jennie for the set.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My children do not play in promiscuous games,&rdquo; said the widow, icily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro&rdquo;&mdash;Polly stammered. &ldquo;It's a new game.
+      You put two here, and two here, and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care to know.&rdquo; The widow turned away, and pretended to talk to
+      Julia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle. The blood flew from
+      her cheeks, then she turned to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas stepped quickly to her side. &ldquo;Wait a minute,&rdquo; he said. She paused,
+      all eyes were turned upon them. &ldquo;Is this a game that grown-ups can play?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need a little amusement just now.
+      Excuse me,&rdquo; he added, turning to the deacons. Then he ran with her out
+      through the trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what do you think of that?&rdquo; said Mrs. Willoughby, as the flying
+      skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man disappeared up the
+      path.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me,&rdquo; said Miss Perkins.
+      &ldquo;The idea of a full-grown parson a-runnin' off to play children's games
+      with a circus ridin' girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She isn't such a child,&rdquo; sneered Julia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's ENOUGH to make folks talk,&rdquo; put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a sly look
+      at the deacons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service,&rdquo; bellowed Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message,&rdquo; piped Elverson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was sick,&rdquo;
+       snapped Miss Perkins. &ldquo;But now she's perfectly well, and still a-hanging
+      on. No wonder folks are talking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's talking?&rdquo; thundered Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you know?&rdquo; simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself nor
+      caring, so long as the suspicion grew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Know what?&rdquo; yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby floundered. Miss
+      Perkins rushed into the breach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if <i>I</i> was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know
+      something about what's going on in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What IS goin' on?&rdquo; shrieked the now desperate deacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged knowing glances, then shook
+      their heads at his hopeless stupidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong was not accustomed to criticism. He prided himself upon his
+      acuteness, and was, above all, vain about his connection with the church.
+      He looked from one woman to the other. He was seething with helpless rage.
+      The little deacon at his side coughed nervously. Strong's pent up wrath
+      exploded. &ldquo;Why didn't YOU tell me, Elverson, that people was a-talkin',&rdquo;
+       he roared in the frightened man's ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing definite came of the sounds;
+      so Strong again turned to Miss Perkins:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is going on?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes heavenward,
+      knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as this mysterious
+      inference of things too terrible to mention. She was right. Strong uttered
+      a desperate &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; and began pacing up and down the garden with reckless
+      strides.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he came to a
+      halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering sweetness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What COULD folks say?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;A minister and a young circus riding
+      girl living here like this with no one to&mdash;&rdquo; She found no words at
+      this point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, declared that the
+      congregation should have no further cause for gossip, and went out quickly
+      in search of Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the women, and
+      attempted a weak apology for the pastor. &ldquo;I dare say the young man was
+      very lonely&mdash;very&mdash;before she came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lonely?&rdquo; snapped Miss Perkins. &ldquo;Well, if HE was LONELY, <i>I</i> didn't
+      know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland smiles to the
+      Sunday-school-room, feeling that they had accomplished enough for the time
+      being.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the pastor. They
+      turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld Douglas, hatless,
+      tearing down the path. Strong called to him, but Douglas darted quickly
+      behind the hedge. The deacons looked at one another in speechless
+      astonishment. Presently the silence was broken by the distant voice of
+      Polly counting from one to one hundred. The secret was out! The pastor, a
+      leader of the church, was playing hide-and-seek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Douglas!&rdquo; shouted Strong, when his breath had returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, hush!&rdquo; whispered Douglas, looking over the hedge. He peeped
+      cautiously about him, then came toward the men with a sigh of relief.
+      &ldquo;It's all right. She has gone the other way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll be a good thing for you if she never comes back,&rdquo; said Strong, and
+      Douglas's quick ear caught an unpleasant meaning in his tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I want to
+      talk to you about 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind about the key,&rdquo; shouted Strong, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I DO mind.&rdquo; Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! And why?&rdquo; The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his jaw was
+      becoming very square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because she's been here long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't agree with you there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not. She's got to
+      go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go?&rdquo; echoed Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who do you mean by 'we'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The members of this congregation,&rdquo; replied Strong, impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I to understand that YOU are speaking for THEM?&rdquo; There was a deep
+      frown between the young pastor's eyes. He was beginning to be perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and as deacon of this church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me that
+      that is MY affair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your affair!&rdquo; shouted Strong. &ldquo;When that girl is living under the
+      church's roof, eating the church's bread!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just one moment! You don't quite understand. I am minister of this
+      church, and for that position I receive, or am supposed to receive, a
+      salary to live on, and this parsonage, rent free, to live in. Any guests
+      that I may have here are MY guests, and NOT guests of the church. Remember
+      that, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an embarrassing silence. The deacons recalled that the pastor's
+      salary WAS slightly in arrears. Elverson coughed meekly. Strong started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You keep out of this, Elverson!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I'm running this affair and I
+      ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it,&rdquo; answered Douglas, turning
+      away and dismissing the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your duty is to your church,&rdquo; thundered Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're right about that, Deacon Strong'&rdquo; answered Douglas, wheeling about
+      sharply, &ldquo;and my duty to the church is reason enough for my acting exactly
+      as I am doing in this case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, there are other reasons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've heard her story&mdash;you MUST have heard. She was left with me by
+      an old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. Before he died
+      he asked me to look after her. She has no one else. I shall certainly do
+      so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was when she was hurt. She's well now, and able to go back where she
+      came from. Do you expect us to have our young folks associatin' with a
+      circus ridin' girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, that's it!&rdquo; cried the pastor, with a pitying look. &ldquo;You think this
+      child is unfit for your homes because she was once in a circus. For some
+      reason, circus to you spells crime. You call yourself a Christian, Deacon
+      Strong, and yet you insist that I send a good, innocent girl back to a
+      life which you say is sinful. I'm ashamed of you, Strong&mdash;I'm ashamed
+      of you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That talk don't do no good with me,&rdquo; roared Strong. He was desperate at
+      being accused of an unchristian attitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus. I don't care WHERE you
+      send her. Get her away from HERE, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so long as she wishes to stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't?&rdquo; Strong saw that he must try a new attack. He came close to
+      Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation. &ldquo;If you was a friend to the
+      girl, you wouldn't want the whole congregation a-pointin' fingers at her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks bad&mdash;bad
+      for the girl, and bad for YOU&mdash;and folks is talkin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough to think
+      that I&mdash;&rdquo; Douglas stopped. He could not frame the question. &ldquo;I don't
+      believe it,&rdquo; he concluded shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do YOU believe it?&rdquo; He turned upon the little man at his side! &ldquo;Do you
+      believe it, Elverson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the conversation,
+      that he had become hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and the
+      sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his power of speech. He was still
+      gurgling and sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're going to do
+      our duty by the church, and that girl must leave or&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or I must.&rdquo; Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. &ldquo;That threat
+      doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have said, I should
+      refuse to remain in this church&rdquo;&mdash;the deacon stepped forward eagerly&mdash;&ldquo;were
+      it not that I realise more than ever before how much you need me, how much
+      you ignorant, narrow-minded creatures need to be taught the meaning of
+      true Christianity.&rdquo; The deacon was plainly disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible?&rdquo; gasped Elverson, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what are you going to do about it?&rdquo; asked Strong, when he could
+      trust himself to speak again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall do what is best for Miss Polly,&rdquo; said the pastor quietly but
+      firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away to show that the interview was at an end. Strong followed
+      him. Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to be mistaken. &ldquo;Good
+      afternoon, deacon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then at the gate, then at the
+      pastor again. &ldquo;I'll go,&rdquo; he shouted; &ldquo;but it ain't the end!&rdquo; He slammed
+      the gate behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so, quite so,&rdquo; chirped Elverson, not having the slightest idea of
+      what he was saying. He saw the frigid expression on the pastor's face, he
+      coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter X
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Douglas dropped wearily onto the rustic bench. He sat with drooped head
+      and unseeing eyes. He did not hear Polly as she scurried down the path,
+      her arms filled with autumn leaves. She glanced at him, dropped the
+      bright-coloured foliage, and slipped quickly to the nearest tree. &ldquo;One,
+      two, three for Mr. John,&rdquo; she cried, as she patted the huge, brown trunk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that you, Polly?&rdquo; he asked absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, it's your turn to catch me,&rdquo; she said, lingering near the tree. The
+      pastor was again lost in thought. &ldquo;Aren't you going to play any more?&rdquo;
+       There was a shade of disappointment in her voice. She came slowly to his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit here, Polly,&rdquo; he answered gravely, pointing to a place on the bench.
+      &ldquo;I want to talk to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, I've done something wrong,&rdquo; she pouted. She gathered up her garlands
+      and brought them to a place near his feet, ignoring the seat at his side.
+      &ldquo;You might just as well tell me and get it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You couldn't do anything wrong,&rdquo; he answered, looking down at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I could&mdash;and I've done it&mdash;I can see it in your face.
+      What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have you there?&rdquo; he asked, trying to gain time, and not knowing how
+      to broach the subject that in justice to her must be discussed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some leaves to make garlands for the social,&rdquo; Polly answered more
+      cheerfully. &ldquo;Would you mind holding this?&rdquo; She gave him one end of a
+      string of leaves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are the children?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You like the children very much, don't you, Polly?&rdquo; Douglas was striving
+      for a path that might lead them to the subject that was troubling him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them.&rdquo; She looked at him with tender
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're the greatest baby of all.&rdquo; A puzzled line came between his eyes as
+      he studied her more closely. &ldquo;And yet, you're not such a child, are you,
+      Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a young lady.&rdquo; He looked at her from
+      a strange, unwelcome point of view. She was all of that as she sat at his
+      feet, yearning and slender and fair, at the turning of her seventeenth
+      year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder how you would like to go way?&rdquo; Her eyes met his in terror. &ldquo;Away
+      to a great school,&rdquo; he added quickly, flinching from the very first hurt
+      that he had inflicted; &ldquo;where there are a lot of other young ladies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a place where you would be?&rdquo; She looked up at him anxiously. She
+      wondered if his &ldquo;show&rdquo; was about to &ldquo;move on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid not,&rdquo; Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't like any place without you,&rdquo; she said decidedly, and seemed to
+      consider the subject dismissed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if it was for your GOOD,&rdquo; Douglas persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It could never be for my good to leave you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But just for a little while,&rdquo; he pleaded. How was she ever to understand?
+      How could he take from her the sense of security that he had purposely
+      taught her to feel in his house?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even for a moment,&rdquo; Polly answered, with a decided shake of her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must get ahead in your studies,&rdquo; he argued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him anxiously. She was beginning to be alarmed at his
+      persistence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pro-mis-cuous,&rdquo; she repeated, haltingly. &ldquo;What does that mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indiscriminate.&rdquo; He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled look on her
+      face. &ldquo;Mixed up,&rdquo; he explained, more simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our game wasn't mixed up.&rdquo; She was thinking of the one to which the widow
+      had objected. &ldquo;Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It depends upon whom you catch,&rdquo; he answered with a dry, whimsical smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't catch anybody but the children.&rdquo; She looked up at him with
+      serious, inquiring eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous.&rdquo; She did not hear him.
+      She was searching for her book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this what you are looking for?&rdquo; he asked, drawing the missing article
+      from his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. &ldquo;Mandy told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've been working a long time on that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me,&rdquo; she
+      answered, timidly. &ldquo;But I don't suppose I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I?&rdquo; she cried, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can help more if you will only let me. I can teach a bigger class in
+      Sunday-school now. I got to the book of Ruth to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did?&rdquo; He pretended to be astonished. He was anxious to encourage her
+      enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Um hum!&rdquo; She answered solemnly. A dreamy look came into her eyes. &ldquo;Do you
+      remember the part that you read to me the first day I came?&rdquo; He nodded. He
+      was thinking how care-free they were that day. How impossible such
+      problems as the present one would have seemed then. &ldquo;I know every bit of
+      what you read by heart. It's our next Sunday-school lesson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?&rdquo; She looked up
+      into his troubled face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll see, we'll see,&rdquo; he murmured, then tried to turn her mind toward
+      other things. &ldquo;Come now, let's find out whether you DO know your
+      Sunday-school lesson. How does it begin?&rdquo; There was no answer. She had
+      turned away with trembling lips. &ldquo;And Ruth said&rdquo;&mdash;he took her two
+      small hands and drew her face toward him, meaning to prompt her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Entreat me not to leave thee,&rdquo; she pleaded. Her eyes met his. His face
+      was close to hers. The small features before him were quivering with
+      emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so easily within his grasp. His
+      muscles grew tense and his lips closed firmly. He was battling with an
+      impulse to draw her toward him and comfort her in the shelter of his
+      strong, brave arms. &ldquo;They shan't!&rdquo; he cried, starting toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had heard and seen the things revealed
+      to each of us only once. She would never again be a child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the rest of the lesson?&rdquo; he asked in a firm, hard voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't say it now,&rdquo; Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her white lids
+      fluttered and closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, I'll help you.&rdquo; Douglas spoke
+      sharply. He was almost vexed with her and with himself for the weakness
+      that was so near overcoming them. &ldquo;And Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to leave
+      thee&mdash;&mdash;'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Or to return from following after thee.'&rdquo; She was struggling to keep
+      back the tears. &ldquo;'For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou
+      lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my' &ldquo;&mdash;She
+      stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right, go on,&rdquo; said Douglas, striving to control the unsteadiness
+      in his own voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where thou diest, will I die'&rdquo;&mdash;her arms went out blindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you won't send me away, will you?&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;I don't want to learn
+      anything else just&mdash;except&mdash;from you.&rdquo; She covered her face and
+      slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant the pastor's strong arms were about her, his stalwart body
+      was supporting her. &ldquo;You shan't go away. I won't let you&mdash;I won't! Do
+      you hear me, Polly? I won't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her breath was warm against his cheek. He could feel her tears, her arms
+      about him, as she clung to him helplessly, sobbing and quivering in the
+      shelter of his strong embrace. &ldquo;You are never going to leave me&mdash;never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A new purpose had come into his life, the realisation of a new necessity,
+      and he knew that the fight which he must henceforth make for this child
+      was the same that he must make for himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'se goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take off dat ere widow's
+      finishin' touches,&rdquo; said Mandy, as she came down the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right!&rdquo; called Douglas. &ldquo;Take these with you, perhaps they may help.&rdquo;
+       He gathered up the garlands which Polly had left on the ground. His eyes
+      were shining, he looked younger than Mandy had ever seen him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and crossed to the
+      elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying to control her newly
+      awakened emotions. Douglas felt intuitively that she needed this moment
+      for recovery, so he piled the leaves and garlands high in Mandy's arms,
+      then ran into the house with the light step of a boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up,&rdquo; said Mandy as she shot a
+      sly glance at Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's good,&rdquo; Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling and
+      blushing guiltily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de parsonage
+      to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room, whar dey belongs.
+      Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin'
+      de parson as how folks could jes' eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I ups
+      an' tells her as how folks could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n MANDY'S
+      floor, too. Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore Mandy
+      to-night.&rdquo; She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the
+      Sunday-school-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her. She hardly knew which way
+      to turn. She was happy, yet afraid. She felt like sinking upon her knees
+      and begging God to be good to her, to help her. She who had once been so
+      independent, so self-reliant, now felt the need of direction from above.
+      She was no longer master of her own soul, something had gone from her,
+      something that would never, never come again. While she hesitated, Hasty
+      came through the gate looking anxiously over his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Hasty?&rdquo; she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had something
+      important on his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's de big one from de circus,&rdquo; he whispered, excitedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The big one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know&mdash;De one what brung you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean&mdash;?&rdquo; Polly's question was answered by Jim himself who
+      had followed Hasty quickly through the gate. Their arms were instantly
+      about each other. Jim forgot Hasty and every one in the world except
+      Polly, and neither of them noticed the horrified Miss Perkins and the
+      Widow Willoughby, who had been crossing the yard on their way from the
+      Sunday-school-room with Julia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're just as big as ever,&rdquo; said Polly, when she could let go of Jim
+      long enough to look at him. &ldquo;You haven't changed a bit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've changed enough for both of us.&rdquo; He looked at the unfamiliar long
+      skirts and the new way of doing her hair. &ldquo;You're bigger, Poll; more grown
+      up like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Jim!&rdquo; She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the rather
+      startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's buttonhole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if I was a-comin' to see you,
+      so as not to make you ashamed of me. Do you like 'em?&rdquo; he asked, looking
+      down approvingly at his new brown clothes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much.&rdquo; For the first time Jim noticed the unfamiliar manner of her
+      speech. He began to feel self-conscious. A year ago she would have said,
+      &ldquo;You bet!&rdquo; He looked at her awkwardly. She hurried on: &ldquo;Hasty told me you
+      were showing in Wakefield. I knew you'd come to see me. How's Barker and
+      all the boys?&rdquo; She stopped with a catch in her throat, and added more
+      slowly: &ldquo;I suppose everything's different, now that Toby is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in,&rdquo; Jim answered; &ldquo;but maybe
+      it was just as well he didn't. You'd hardly a-knowed him toward the last,
+      he got so thin an' peeked like. He wasn't the same after we lost you,
+      nobody was, not even Bingo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you still got Bingo?&rdquo; she asked, through her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yep, we got him,&rdquo; drawled Jim, &ldquo;but he ain't much good no more. None of
+      the other riders can get used to his gait like you was. There ain't nobody
+      with the show what can touch you ridin', there never will be. Say, mebbe
+      you think Barker won't let out a yell when he sees yer comin' back.&rdquo; Jim
+      was jubilant now, and he let out a little yell of his own at the mere
+      thought of her return. He was too excited to notice the look on Polly's
+      face. &ldquo;Toby had a notion before he died that you was never a-comin' back,
+      but I told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, and when Barker sent
+      me over here to-day to look arter the advertisin', he said he guessed
+      you'd had all you wanted a' church folks. 'Jes' you bring her along to
+      Wakefield,' he said, 'an' tell her that her place is waitin' for her,' and
+      I will, too.&rdquo; He turned upon Polly with sudden decision. &ldquo;Why, I feel jes'
+      like pickin' yer up in my arms and carryin' you right off now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait, Jim!&rdquo; She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mean&mdash;not&mdash;to-day&mdash;mebbe&rdquo;&mdash;he stammered,
+      uncertainly, &ldquo;but we'll be back here a-showin' next month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't look at me now,&rdquo; Polly answered, as the dog-like eyes searched her
+      face, &ldquo;because I have to say something that is going to hurt you, Jim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?&rdquo; The big face was wrinkled and care-worn
+      with trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Jim,&rdquo; she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely hear her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?&rdquo; He tried to realise what such
+      a decision might mean to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Jim.&rdquo; She answered tenderly, for she dreaded the pain that she must
+      cause the great, good-hearted fellow. &ldquo;You mustn't care like that,&rdquo; she
+      pleaded, seeing the blank desolation that had come into his face. &ldquo;It
+      isn't because I don't love you just the same, and it was good of Barker to
+      keep my place for me, but I can't go back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve. &ldquo;Why, Jim, when I
+      lie in my little room up there at night&rdquo;&mdash;she glanced toward the
+      window above them&mdash;&ldquo;and everything is peaceful and still, I think how
+      it used to be in the old days, the awful noise and the rush of it all, the
+      cheerless wagons, the mob in the tent, the ring with its blazing lights,
+      the whirling round and round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops,
+      till my head got dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the
+      show, and the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble of
+      the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the animals, and
+      then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I riding through the streets
+      in tights, Jim! Tights!&rdquo; She covered her face to shut out the memory. &ldquo;I
+      couldn't go back to it, Jim! I just couldn't!&rdquo; She turned away, her face
+      still hidden in her hands. He looked at her a long while in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it,&rdquo; he said doggedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You aren't ANGRY, Jim?&rdquo; She turned to him anxiously, her eyes pleading
+      for his forgiveness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Angry?&rdquo; he echoed, almost bitterly. &ldquo;I guess it couldn't ever come to
+      that a-tween you an' me. I'll be all right.&rdquo; He shrugged his great
+      shoulders. &ldquo;It's just kinder sudden, that's all. You see, I never figured
+      on givin' yer up, and when you said you wasn't comin' back, it kinder
+      seemed as though I couldn't see nothin' all my life but long, dusty roads,
+      and nobody in 'em. But it's all right now, and I'll just be gettin' along
+      to the wagon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas,&rdquo; Polly protested, trying to keep
+      him with her until she could think of some way to comfort him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll look in on him comin' back,&rdquo; said Jim, anxious to be alone with his
+      disappointment. He was out of the gate before she could stop him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you.&rdquo; She watched him
+      going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into his brown coat pockets,
+      and his hat pulled over his eyes. He did not look back, as he used to do,
+      to wave a parting farewell, and she turned toward the house with a
+      troubled heart. She had reached the lower step when Strong and Elverson
+      approached her from the direction of the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?&rdquo; demanded Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong assured
+      her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop her if she wished
+      to go. He saw the blank look on her face. &ldquo;We ain't tryin' to pry into
+      none of your private affairs,&rdquo; he explained; &ldquo;but my daughter saw you and
+      that there feller a makin' up to each other. If you're calculatin' to run
+      away with him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by doin' it
+      quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The parson!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU can't blame the congregation for not wantin' him to keep you here.
+      You got sense enough to see how it looks. HE'D see it, too, if he wasn't
+      just plain, bull-headed. Well he'd better get over his stubbornness right
+      now, if he don't we'll get another minister, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another minister? You don't mean&mdash;?&rdquo; It was clear enough now. She
+      recalled Douglas's troubled look of an hour ago. She remembered how he had
+      asked if she couldn't go away. It was this that he meant when he promised
+      not to give her up, no matter what happened. In an instant she was at the
+      deacon's side pleading and terrified. &ldquo;You wouldn't get another minister!
+      Oh, please, Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! You were right about Jim,
+      he DID come to get me and I am going back to the circus&mdash;only you
+      won't send Mr. Douglas away, you won't! Say you won't!&rdquo; She was searching
+      his eyes for mercy. &ldquo;It wasn't HIS fault that I kept staying on. He didn't
+      know how to get rid of me. He DID try, he tried only to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he's comin' 'round,&rdquo; sneered Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, will you?&rdquo; she hurried on
+      anxiously. &ldquo;You'll let him stay, no matter what he does, if I promise to
+      go away and never, never come back again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him,&rdquo; Strong grumbled. &ldquo;He talks pretty
+      rough sometimes, but he's been a good enough minister. I ain't forgettin'
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank you, Mr. Strong, thank you. I'll get my things; it won't take a
+      minute.&rdquo; She was running up the steps when a sudden thought stopped her.
+      She returned quickly to Strong. &ldquo;We'd better not let him know just yet.
+      You can tell him afterward. Tell him that I ran away&mdash;Tell him that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was interrupted by Douglas, who came from the house. &ldquo;Hello, Strong,
+      back again?&rdquo; he asked, in some surprise. Polly remained with her eyes
+      fixed upon the deacon, searching for some way of escape. The pastor
+      approached; she burst into nervous laughter. &ldquo;What's the joke?&rdquo; Douglas
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's only a little surprise that the deacon and I are planning.&rdquo; She
+      tried to control the catch in her voice. &ldquo;You'll know about it soon, won't
+      he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr. Strong!&rdquo; She flew into the house, laughing
+      hysterically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas followed her to the steps with a puzzled frown. It was unlike
+      Polly to give way to her moods before others. &ldquo;Have you gentlemen changed
+      your minds about the little girl staying on?&rdquo; he asked, uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all right now,&rdquo; said Strong, seating himself with a complacent air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right? How so?&rdquo; questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by the
+      deacon's evident satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, &ldquo;because your
+      circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you been talking to that girl?&rdquo; asked Douglas, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have,&rdquo; said Strong, holding his ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may forget
+      that I'm a minister.&rdquo; The knuckles on Douglas's large fists grew whiter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said either.
+      She's goin' back to the circus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just a-callin'
+      on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and a-promisin' that she'd
+      be a-waitin' for him here when he come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You lie!&rdquo; cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating deacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's the fellow now,&rdquo; cried Strong, as he pointed to the gate.
+      &ldquo;Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching. His face lighted up with
+      relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are yer, Mr. Douglas?&rdquo; said Jim, awkwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've seen Polly?&rdquo; asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I've seen her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The deacon here has an idea that Polly is going back to the circus with
+      you.&rdquo; He nodded toward Strong, almost laughing at the surprise in store
+      for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back to the circus?&rdquo; asked Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she say anything to you about it?&rdquo; He was worried by the bewilderment
+      in Jim's manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached the steps in time to catch
+      the last few words, slipped quickly between them. She wore her coat and
+      hat, and carried a small brown satchel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?&rdquo; she said, turning her back upon the
+      pastor and motioning to Jim not to answer. Douglas gazed at her in
+      astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he asked in a hoarse, strained voice. He glanced at
+      the coat and hat. &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you come back? Why didn't you wait for me down the street? Now,
+      you've spoiled everything.&rdquo; She pretended to be very vexed with him. The
+      big fellow looked puzzled. He tried to protest, but she put a warning
+      finger to her lips and pressed the little brown satchel into his hand.
+      &ldquo;It's no use,&rdquo; she went on hurriedly. &ldquo;We might as well tell them
+      everything now.&rdquo; She turned to Douglas and pretended to laugh. &ldquo;You have
+      found us out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead was
+      deepening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, see how serious he looks,&rdquo; she teased, with a toss of her head toward
+      the grim-visaged pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this some trick?&rdquo; he demanded, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be angry,&rdquo; she pleaded. &ldquo;Wish me luck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held out one small hand; he did not take it. She wavered, then she
+      felt the eyes of the deacons upon her. Courage returned and she spoke in a
+      firm, clear voice: &ldquo;I am going to run away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Run away?&rdquo; he exclaimed incredulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, to the circus with Jim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You couldn't DO such a thing,&rdquo; he answered, excitedly. &ldquo;Why, only a
+      moment ago you told me you would never leave me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but that was a moment ago,&rdquo; she cried, in a strained, high voice.
+      &ldquo;That was before Jim came. You see, I didn't know HOW I felt until I saw
+      Jim and heard all about my old friends, how Barker is keeping my place for
+      me, and how they all want to see me. And I want to see them, and to hear
+      the music and the laughter and the clown songs&mdash;Oh, the clown songs!&rdquo;
+       She waltzed about, humming the snatch of melody that Mandy had heard the
+      morning that Polly first woke in the parsonage.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;Ting, ling.
+        That's how the bells ring,
+        Ting, ling, pretty young thing.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, and gazed at them with a
+      brave, little smile. &ldquo;Oh, it's going to be fine! Fine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know what you're doing,&rdquo; said Douglas. He seized her roughly by
+      the arm. Pain was making him brutal. &ldquo;I won't LET you go! Do you hear me?
+      I won't&mdash;not until you've thought it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought it over,&rdquo; Polly answered, meeting his eyes and trying to
+      speak lightly. Her lips trembled. She could not bear for him to think her
+      so ungrateful. She remembered his great kindness; the many thoughtful acts
+      that had made the past year so precious to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've been awfully good to me, Mr. John.&rdquo; She tried to choke back a sob.
+      &ldquo;I'll never forget it&mdash;never! I'll always feel the same toward you.
+      But you mustn't ask me to stay. I want to get back to them that knew me
+      first&mdash;to my OWN! Circus folks aren't cut out for parsons' homes, and
+      I was born in the circus. I love it&mdash;I love it!&rdquo; She felt her
+      strength going, and cried out wildly: &ldquo;I want Bingo! I want to go round
+      and round the ring! I want the lights and the music and the hoops! I want
+      the shrieks of the animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at
+      night! I want to ride in the big parade! I want to live and die&mdash;just
+      die&mdash;as circus folks die! I want to go back! I want to go back!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put out one trembling hand to Jim and rushed quickly through the gate
+      laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling to him to follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      LONELY days followed Polly's desertion of the parsonage. Mandy went about
+      her duties very quietly, feeling that the little comments which once
+      amused the pastor had now become an interruption to thoughts in which she
+      had no part. He would sit for hours with his head in his hands, taking no
+      notice of what passed before him. She tried to think of new dishes to
+      tempt his appetite, and shook her head sadly as she bore the untasted food
+      back to the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings lying open upon his study
+      table. She remembered the zeal with which he had planned to remodel the
+      church and parsonage, when he first came to them; how his enthusiasm had
+      gradually died for lack of encouragement; and how he had at last put his
+      books in a cupboard, where they grew dusty from long neglect. She
+      marvelled at their reappearance now, but something in his set, far-away
+      look made her afraid to inquire. Thus she went on from day to day, growing
+      more impatient with Hasty and more silent with the pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy needed humor and companionship to oil the wheels of her humdrum
+      life; there was no more laughter in the house, and she began to droop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the complacency of
+      the village was again upset by the arrival of the &ldquo;Great American Circus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for speculation was now
+      at fever heat about the pastor. &ldquo;Would he try to see her? had he forgotten
+      her? and what had he ever found in her?&rdquo; were a few of the many questions
+      that the women were asking each other. Now, that the cause of their envy
+      was removed, they would gladly have reinstated the pastor as their idol;
+      for, like all truly feminine souls, they could not bear to see a man
+      unhappy without wishing to comfort him, nor happy unless they were the
+      direct cause of his state. &ldquo;How dare any man be happy without me?&rdquo; has
+      been the cry of each woman since Eve was created to mate with Adam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of Polly's
+      disappearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons or their recent
+      disapproval of him. He avoided meeting them oftener than duty required;
+      and Strong felt so uncomfortable and tongue-tied in his presence that he,
+      too, was glad to make their talks as few as possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or about his
+      continued connection with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood was
+      on the point of exploding from an over-accumulation of unanswered
+      questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor, listened
+      to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his parishioners, and shut himself up
+      with his books or walked alone on the hill behind the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus lot for
+      the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance was closing. It
+      had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss Polly was not in the
+      parade that morning, and to know that the pastor had made no effort to
+      find out about her. For weeks both she and Hasty had hoped that the return
+      of the circus might bring Polly back to them; but now it was nearly night
+      and there had been no word from her. Why didn't she come running in to see
+      them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the pastor stayed away
+      on the hills all day?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so finally she
+      drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held her small wad of
+      savings, and told Hasty &ldquo;to go long to de show and find out 'bout Miss
+      Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at the door
+      for the second time that afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sah, he ain't,&rdquo; said Mandy, very shortly. She felt that Strong and
+      Elverson had been &ldquo;a-tryin' to spy on de parson all day,&rdquo; and she resented
+      their visits more than she usually did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What time are you expectin' him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps. She saw from the window
+      that he met Elverson in front of the church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble,&rdquo; she mumbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had straggled down
+      the street. She opened the door and stood on the porch; the house seemed
+      to suffocate her. What was keeping Hasty?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he brought
+      unwelcome news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't she dar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's wid 'em, all right,&rdquo; said Hasty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yuh seed her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I didn't done SEED her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She want in de show.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you jes' tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' rightly know,&rdquo; said Hasty. &ldquo;A great big man, what wored clothes
+      like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says as how he's
+      'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. An' den he says as
+      how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den everybody look disappinted
+      like, an' den out comes de udder gal on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I ain't
+      heard no more 'bout Miss Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you done ask somebody?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz hurryin' ever'body to get out
+      of de tent. I done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git ma money's worth?'
+      an' den ebberbody laugh, an' he shove me 'long wid de rest of de folks,
+      an' here I is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's sick, dat's what <i>I</i> says,&rdquo; Mandy declared, excitedly; &ldquo;an'
+      somebody's got to do somethin'!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I done all I knowed,&rdquo; drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was regretting
+      her twenty-five-cent investment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire,&rdquo; was Mandy's impatient
+      reply. &ldquo;I got to keep dem vittels warm fer Massa John.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to get hold of
+      Polly. &ldquo;Dat baby-faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy all wobbly 'bout de
+      heart,&rdquo; she declared to herself, as she crossed to the window for a sight
+      of the pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the path from the
+      hill. She lighted the study-lamp, rearranged the cushions, and tried to
+      make the room look cheery for his entrance. He stopped in the hall and
+      hung up his hat. There was momentary silence. Would he shut himself in his
+      room for the night, or would he come into the study? At last the door
+      opened and Mandy hastened to place a chair for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; answered Douglas, absently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here to-night. It's
+      more cheerfuller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The side-showman was already beginning his spiel in the lot below. The
+      lemonade venders{sic} and the popcorn sellers were heard crying their
+      wares. Douglas did not answer her. She bustled from the room, declaring
+      &ldquo;she was jes' goin' ter bring him a morsel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot. The flare of
+      the torches and the red fire came up to meet his pale, tense face. &ldquo;How
+      like the picture of thirteen months ago,&rdquo; he thought, and old Toby's words
+      came back to him&mdash;&ldquo;The show has got to go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Above the church steeple, the moon was battling its way through the
+      clouds. His eyes travelled from heaven to earth. There was a spirit of
+      unreality in it all. Something made him mistrust himself, his very
+      existence. He longed to have done with dreams and speculation, to feel
+      something tangible, warm, and real within his grasp. &ldquo;I can't go on like
+      this!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I can't!&rdquo; He turned from the window and walked hurriedly
+      up and down the room; indoors or out, he found no rest. He threw himself
+      in the armchair near the table, and sat buried in thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mandy came softly into the room. She was followed by Hasty, who carried a
+      tray, laden with things that ought to have tempted any man. She motioned
+      for Hasty to put the tray on the table, and then began arranging the
+      dishes. Hasty stole to the window, and peeped out at the tempting flare of
+      red fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Douglas discovered the presence of his two &ldquo;faithfuls&rdquo; he was touched
+      with momentary contrition. He knew that he often neglected to chat with
+      them now, and he made an effort to say something that might restore the
+      old feeling of comradeship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you had a hard day with the new gravel walk?&rdquo; he asked Hasty,
+      remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the
+      Sunday-school-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either to lie or tell the truth
+      about the disposition she had made of his afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jes' you come eat yo' supper,&rdquo; Mandy called to Douglas. &ldquo;Don' yous worry
+      your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob mine. He ain' goin' ter work 'nuff to
+      hurt hisself.&rdquo; For an instant she had been tempted to let the pastor know
+      how Hasty had gone to the circus and seen nothing of Polly; but her
+      motherly instinct won the day and she urged him to eat before disturbing
+      him with her own anxieties. It was no use. He only toyed with his food; he
+      was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone. She gave up trying to tempt
+      his appetite, and began to lead up in a roundabout way to the things which
+      she wished to ask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot tonight,&rdquo; she said; Douglas did
+      not answer. After a moment, she went on: &ldquo;Hasty didn't work on no walk
+      to-day.&rdquo; Douglas looked at her quizzically, while Hasty, convinced that
+      for reasons of her own she was going to get him into trouble, was making
+      frantic motions. &ldquo;He done gone to de circus,&rdquo; she blurted out. Douglas's
+      face became suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had touched an open wound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John. I HAD to find out 'bout dat angel
+      chile.&rdquo; There was a pause. She felt that he was waiting for her to go on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She didn't done ride to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal. &ldquo;And de gemmen in
+      de show didn't tell nobody why&mdash;jes' speaked about de udder gal
+      takin' her place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why DIDN'T she ride?&rdquo; cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dat's what I don' know, sah.&rdquo; Mandy began to cry. It was the first time
+      in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to give way to any such
+      weakness. He walked up and down the room, uncertain what to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about Mandy's
+      shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leab me alone, you nigga!&rdquo; she exclaimed, trying to cover her tears with
+      a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed from the room,
+      followed by Hasty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The band was playing loudly; the din of the night performance was
+      increasing. Douglas's nerves were strained to a point of breaking. He
+      would not let himself go near the window. He stood by the side of the
+      table, his fists clenched, and tried to beat back the impulse that was
+      pulling him toward the door. Again and again he set his teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. Was she ill? Could she need him?
+      Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if he went for her
+      and brought her back with him? He recalled the hysterical note in her
+      behaviour the day that she went away; how she had pleaded, only a few
+      moments before Jim came, never to be separated from him. Had she really
+      cared for Jim and for the old life? Why had she never written? Was she
+      ashamed? Was she sorry for what she had done? What could it mean? He threw
+      his hands above his head with a gesture of despair. A moment later, he
+      passed out into the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      JIM was slow to-night. The big show was nearly over, yet many of the props
+      used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of the wagons in the back lot,
+      and the men were standing about idly, waiting for orders, when Barker came
+      out of the main tent and called to him sharply:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse for what?&rdquo; Jim crossed slowly to Barker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show top ain't
+      loaded yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! Number thirty-eight carries the
+      cook tent and the blacksmith has been tinkering with it all day. Ask HIM
+      what shape it's in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're always stallin',&rdquo; was Barker's sullen complaint. &ldquo;It's the wagons,
+      or the black-smiths, or anything but the truth. <i>I</i> know what's the
+      matter, all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo; asked Jim, sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin' for that
+      girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have yer got to say about her?&rdquo; Jim eyed him with a threatening
+      look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got a-plenty,&rdquo; said Barker, as he turned to snap his whip at the small
+      boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the rear edge of the
+      &ldquo;big top.&rdquo; &ldquo;She's been about as much good as a sick cat since she come
+      back. You saw her act last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Jim, doggedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at ALL this afternoon&mdash;said she was
+      sick. And me with all them people inside what knowed her, waitin' ter see
+      'er.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give her a little time,&rdquo; Jim pleaded. &ldquo;She ain't rode for a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Time!&rdquo; shouted Barker. &ldquo;How much does she want? She's been back a month
+      and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. There's only one thing
+      for me to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; asked Jim, uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Barker,&rdquo; and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked steadily
+      at the other man; &ldquo;you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, but if I
+      catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss won't make no difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't bluff me,&rdquo; shouted Barker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer,&rdquo; said Jim, very quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, that's
+      all.&rdquo; He hurried into the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the ground with
+      thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had tried to
+      rouse her; it was no use. She had looked at him blankly. &ldquo;If she would
+      only complain,&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;If she would only get mad, anything,
+      anything to wake her.&rdquo; But she did not complain. She went through her
+      daily routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes wondered how Jim
+      could talk so much about her work, but before she could answer the
+      question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden and flowers,
+      and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with folded hands and wide,
+      staring eyes, gazing into the distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night. He had gone on
+      hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the &ldquo;let-down&rdquo; in her
+      work, and now the blow had fallen. How could he tell her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent. There was a moment's
+      confusion, as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each other on their way
+      to and from the ring, then the lot cleared again, and Polly came slowly
+      from the dressing tent. She looked very different from the little girl
+      whom Jim had led away from the parson's garden in a simple, white frock
+      one month before. Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with her
+      glittering attire. Her hair was knotted high on her head {a}nd intertwined
+      with flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed scarcely able to support
+      its burden. Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice were ablaze with
+      white and coloured stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's on, Jim?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The 'Leap o' Death.' You got plenty a' time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly's mind went back to the girl who answered that call a year ago. Her
+      spirit seemed very near to-night. The band stopped playing. Barker made
+      his grandiloquent announcement about the wonderful act about to be seen,
+      and her eyes wandered to the distant church steeple. The moonlight seemed
+      to shun it to-night. It looked cold and grim and dark. She wondered
+      whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship had become
+      as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whirr of the great
+      machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space with its girl
+      occupant. These things were a part of the daily routine, part of the
+      strange, vague dream through which she must stumble for the rest of her
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She had
+      forgotten his presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Star gazin', Poll?&rdquo; he asked at length, dreading to disturb her revery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I was, Jim.&rdquo; She turned to him with a little, forced smile. He
+      longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How yer feelin' to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm all right,&rdquo; she answered, cheerfully
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anythin' yer want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want?&rdquo; she turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so much that she
+      wanted, that the mere mention of the word had opened a well of pain in her
+      heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, can I do anythin' for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course not.&rdquo; She remembered how little ANY ONE could do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Poll?&rdquo; he begged; but she only turned away and shook her head
+      with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. &ldquo;What made yer cut out the
+      show to-day? Was it because you didn't want ter ride afore folks what
+      knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HIM?&rdquo; Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. &ldquo;You don't mean
+      that he was&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; he answered, quickly, &ldquo;of course not. Parsons don't come to
+      places like this one. I was only figurin' that yer didn't want OTHER folks
+      to see yer and to tell him how you was ridin'.&rdquo; She did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was that it, Poll?&rdquo; he urged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo; She stared into space.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess it was,&rdquo; she said, after a long time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knowed it,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer don't
+      belong with us no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, too?&rdquo; He looked at her in astonishment. &ldquo;Yer wasn't in HIS way, was
+      yer, Poll?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Jim.&rdquo; She saw his look of unbelief and continued hurriedly. &ldquo;Oh, I
+      tried not to be. I tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of a Bible
+      about my way being his way and my people his people, but it isn't so, Jim.
+      Your way is the way you are born, and your people are the people you are
+      born with, and you can't change it, Jim, no matter how hard you try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU was changin' it,&rdquo; he answered, savagely. &ldquo;You was gettin' jes' like
+      them people. It was me what took yer away and spoiled it all. You oughtn't
+      to a come. What made yer, after yer said yer wouldn't?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind of the
+      slow-witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will yer answer me somethin' straight?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course,&rdquo; she said as she met his gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you love the parson, Poll?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her lips
+      apart, then looked far into the distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Jim, I'm afraid&mdash;that's it.&rdquo; The little figure drooped, and she
+      stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked at her helplessly,
+      then shook his big, stupid head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't that hell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a cooing
+      babe, at her dead mother's side. He watched the tender, averted face.
+      Things had turned out so differently from what he had planned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he didn't care about you&mdash;like that?&rdquo; he asked, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not in that way.&rdquo; She was anxious to defend the pastor from even the
+      thought of such a thing. &ldquo;He was good and kind always, but he didn't care
+      THAT WAY. He's not like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I'll have a talk with him,&rdquo; said Jim, and he turned to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talk!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. It was the first time that
+      he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was
+      stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you ever DARE to speak to him&mdash;about me, you'll never see me
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim was perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. If you
+      ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run away&mdash;really
+      and truly away&mdash;and you'll never, never get me back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for the
+      little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, toying nervously
+      with the tiny fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was just a
+      tryin' to help yer, only I&mdash;I never seem to know how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on his
+      great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE &ldquo;Leap of Death&rdquo; implements were being carried from the ring, and Jim
+      turned away to superintend their loading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main
+      tent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere
+      mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride
+      to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of doing
+      it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came from
+      the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Barker, please!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned upon her sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what is it NOW?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to ask you to let me off again to-night.&rdquo; She spoke in a short,
+      jerky, desperate way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; he shrieked. &ldquo;Not go into the ring, with all them people inside
+      what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I can't! I can't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YER gettin' too tony!&rdquo; Barker sneered. &ldquo;That's the trouble with you. You
+      ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house. Yer
+      didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll be out
+      all 'round.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not a 'dead one,'&rdquo; she answered, excitedly. &ldquo;I'm the best rider
+      you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer
+      mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She wouldn't,&rdquo; cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face was scarlet.
+      The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with indignation.
+      &ldquo;I can ride as well as I EVER could, and I'll do it, too. I'll do it
+      to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow?&rdquo; echoed Barker. &ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT,&rdquo; she declared, &ldquo;and I
+      won't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her with momentary indecision. She WAS a good rider&mdash;the
+      best since her mother, as he had often told her. He could see this meant
+      an issue. He felt she would be on her mettle to-morrow, as far as her work
+      was concerned, if he left her alone to-night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said, sullenly. &ldquo;Yer can stay off to-night. I got the
+      crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money. I'll let Eloise do a turn
+      on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me your old act.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll show you!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I'll show you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, see that you do.&rdquo; He crossed into the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense. Jim came toward
+      her from the direction of the wagons. He glanced at her uneasily. &ldquo;What's
+      he been a-sayin' ter you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He says I can't ride any more.&rdquo; Her lips closed tightly. She stared
+      straight ahead of her. &ldquo;He says I was no good to the people that took me
+      in, and I'm no use here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not so!&rdquo; thundered Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it's not!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I'll show him, Jim! I'll show him&mdash;to-morrow!&rdquo;
+       She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught her firmly by the wrist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT WAY.&rdquo; Her
+      eyes met his, defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the difference? What's the difference?&rdquo; She wrenched her wrist
+      quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing hysterically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I brung her back to it,&rdquo; mumbled Jim as he turned to give orders to
+      the property men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Most of the &ldquo;first-half props&rdquo; were loaded, and some of the men were
+      asleep under the wagons. The lot was clear. Suddenly he felt some one
+      approaching from the back of the enclosure. He turned and found himself
+      face to face with the stern, solitary figure of the pastor, wrapped in his
+      long, black cloak. The moonlight slipped through a rift in the clouds, and
+      fell in a circle around them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you come here?&rdquo; was all Jim said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she might be
+      ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She ISN'T ill?&rdquo; Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the gruffness in
+      the big fellow's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's all right,&rdquo; Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily from one
+      foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she's happy? she's content?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad,&rdquo; said Douglas, dully. He tried to think of some way to prolong
+      their talk. &ldquo;I've never heard from her, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Us folks don't get much time to write.&rdquo; Jim turned away and began
+      tinkering with one of the wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and again,
+      fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was doing, but to
+      no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed impossible that he should
+      go away so unsatisfied. He crossed to Jim and came determinedly to the
+      point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't I see her, Jim?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's agin the rules.&rdquo; He did not turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the lot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute,&rdquo; called Jim, as though the words had been wrung from him.
+      The pastor came back with a question in his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I lied to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's NOT well, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She isn't?&rdquo; There was a note of unconscious exultation in his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, why did she leave me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at first. Somethin' must
+      a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We WILL know about it, Jim. Where is she?&rdquo; His quick eye searched the
+      lot. His voice had regained it's old command. He felt that he could
+      conquer worlds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't do no good that way,&rdquo; answered Jim. &ldquo;She don't want ter see you
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even talked to you
+      about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait around out here with me. I'll let
+      you know in time.&rdquo; He led the way through a narrow passage between the
+      wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when Deacon Elverson's small,
+      round head slipped cautiously around the corner of the dressing tent. The
+      little deacon glanced exultantly about him. He was monarch of all he
+      surveyed. It was very thrilling to stand here, on this forbidden ground,
+      smelling the saw-dust, gazing at the big red wagons, studying the
+      unprotected circus properties, and listening to the lightening tempo of
+      the band.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see him?&rdquo; shouted Strong, who had followed closely upon
+      Elverson's heels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little deacon started. Strong was certainly a disturbing factor at
+      times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I&mdash;I saw him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&mdash;he&mdash;didn't see HER.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What DID he do?&rdquo; Strong was beside himself with impatience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&mdash;he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way.&rdquo; Elverson
+      nodded toward the wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess he ain't gone far,&rdquo; sneered Strong. &ldquo;He come over to this lot to
+      see her, and he ain't goin' ter give up till he does it. You wait here;
+      I'll take a look round.&rdquo; He went quickly in the direction of the wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Elverson needed no second invitation to wait. He was congratulating
+      himself upon his good fortune, when he all but collided with a flying
+      apparition, vanishing in the direction of the main tent. Sophisticated
+      eyes would have seen only a rather stout acrobat clad in pink tights; but
+      Elverson was not sophisticated, and he teetered after the flitting angel,
+      even unto the forbidden portals of the &ldquo;big top.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was peeping through the curtains which had fallen behind her, and was
+      getting his first glimpse of the great, sawdust world beyond, when one of
+      the clowns dashed from the dressing tent on his way to the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The clown was late. He saw the limp coat tails of the deacon, who was
+      three-quarters in the tent. Here was a chance to make a funny entrance. He
+      grabbed the unsuspecting little man from the rear. The terrified deacon
+      struck out blindly in all directions, his black arms and legs moving like
+      centipede, but the clown held him firmly by the back and thrust him, head
+      foremost, into the tent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strong returned almost immediately from his unsuccessful search for the
+      pastor. He looked about the lot for Elverson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hey, there, Elverson!&rdquo; he called lustily. There was no response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now where's he got to,&rdquo; grumbled Strong. He disappeared quickly around
+      the corner of the dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp lookout for
+      Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, spitting sawdust and much
+      discomfited by the laughing performers who followed him. His knees almost
+      gave way beneath him when Barker came out of the ring, snapping his long,
+      black whip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get out of here, you bloke!&rdquo; roared Barker. And Elverson &ldquo;got.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No one had remembered to tell the groom that Polly was not to ride
+      to-night. So Bingo was brought out as usual, when their &ldquo;turn&rdquo; approached.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take him back, Tom,&rdquo; Polly called from the entrance, when she learned
+      that Bingo was waiting, &ldquo;and bring Barbarian. I'm not going on to-night.
+      Eloise is going to ride in my place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the second time to-day that Bingo had been led away without going
+      into the ring. Something in his big, wondering eyes made Polly follow him
+      and apologise. He was very proud, was Bingo, and very conscientious. He
+      felt uneasy when he saw the other horses going to their work without him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Bingo,&rdquo; she said, patting his great, arched neck, &ldquo;we'll show
+      'em to-morrow.&rdquo; He rubbed his satiny nose against her cheek. &ldquo;We'll make
+      them SIT UP again. Barker says our act's no good&mdash;that I've let down.
+      But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. I've not been fair to you. I'll give you a
+      chance to-morrow. You wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo! Never again!&rdquo;
+       She watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as he nipped the
+      attendant on the arm. He was still irritated at not going into the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her street
+      clothes. The wagons would soon be moving away. For a moment she glanced at
+      the dark church steeple, then she turned to go inside the tent. A deep,
+      familiar voice stopped her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Polly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned quickly. She could not answer. Douglas came toward her. He
+      gazed at her in amazement. She drew her cape about her slightly clad
+      figure. She seemed older to him, more unapproachable with her hair heaped
+      high and sparkling with jewels. Her bodice of satin and lace shimmered
+      through the opening of her cape. The moonlight lent mystery and indecision
+      to her betinselled attire. The band was playing the andante for the
+      balancing act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound came from
+      them. She and the pastor looked at each other strangely, like spirits
+      newly met from far-apart worlds. She, too, thought her companion changed.
+      He was older, the circles beneath his eyes were deeper, the look in their
+      depths more grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were such close neighbours to-day, I&mdash;I rather thought you'd
+      call,&rdquo; he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying&mdash;it did not
+      matter&mdash;he was there with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's why I've come to call on you.&rdquo; They might have been sheppherd and
+      sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which their words
+      came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're all right?&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;You're happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, very,&rdquo; she said. Her eyes were downcast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white face
+      belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jim said you might not want to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Jim been talking to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you left that
+      you'd never change&mdash;toward me. Have you, Poll?&rdquo; He studied her,
+      anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no, of course not,&rdquo; she said, evasively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo; She was growing more and more uneasy. She glanced about
+      for a way of escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you leave me as you did?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you then.&rdquo; She tried to cross toward the dressing tent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped quickly in front of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was growing desperate. She felt she must get away, anywhere, anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He seized her small wrists and forced her to look at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And <i>I</i> am not happy without YOU, and I never, NEVER can be.&rdquo; The
+      floodgates were open, his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you mustn't,&rdquo; she begged. &ldquo;You MUSTN'T.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've grown so close,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;So close!&rdquo; She struggled to be free.
+      He did not heed her. &ldquo;You know&mdash;you must know what I mean.&rdquo; He drew
+      her toward him and forced her into his arms. &ldquo;You're more precious to me
+      than all else on this earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on her face. He felt her
+      growing limp and lifeless in his arms. A doubt crossed his mind. &ldquo;If I am
+      wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you honestly care for all this,&rdquo; he
+      glanced about at the tents, &ldquo;more than for any life that I can give you, I
+      shan't interfere. You'll be going on your way in an hour. I'll say
+      good-bye and God bless you; but if you do care for me, Polly,&rdquo; he was
+      pleading now, &ldquo;if you're NOT happy here&mdash;won't you come back to me?
+      Won't you, Polly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send him away. She stood
+      irresolute. The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So! You're HERE, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here,&rdquo; answered the pastor, as he turned to meet
+      the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly from behind the
+      dressing tent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for you, miss,&rdquo; continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward Polly,
+      &ldquo;I might have known how you'd keep your part of the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bargain?&rdquo; echoed Douglas. &ldquo;What bargain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I didn't,
+      truly.&rdquo; She hardly knew what she was saying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What bargain?&rdquo; demanded Douglas sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each other agin,&rdquo;
+       roared Strong. &ldquo;If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to keep on with this kind o'
+      thing, you wouldn't er got off so easy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So! That's it!&rdquo; cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He recalled
+      everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her tears. &ldquo;It was you
+      who drove that child back to this.&rdquo; He glanced at Polly. The narrow
+      shoulders were bent forward. The nervous little fingers were clasping and
+      unclasping each other. Never before had she seemed so small and helpless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you tell me?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have done no good,&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;Oh, why&mdash;why won't you
+      leave me alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he to send
+      you back to this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had every right,&rdquo; said Strong, stubbornly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was my duty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm NOT your parson any longer,&rdquo; declared Douglas. He faced Strong
+      squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to him,
+      begging and beseeching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo; shouted Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow-minded congregation before,
+      because I believed you needed me. But now this girl needs me more. She
+      needs me to protect her from just such injustice as yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can do that WITHOUT your advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl a-hangin'
+      'round your neck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's right,&rdquo; cried Polly. &ldquo;You couldn't.&rdquo; She clung to the pastor in
+      terrified entreaty. &ldquo;You COULDN'T get another church. They'd never, never
+      forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let me go! you've GOT to!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Polly.&rdquo; He drew her toward him. &ldquo;God is greater than any church
+      or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE&mdash;HIS work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll soon find out about that,&rdquo; thundered Strong.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I will,&rdquo; answered Douglas, with his head thrown high. &ldquo;This child has
+      opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader, deeper humanity; she
+      and I will find the way together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that.&rdquo; Strong turned to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not looking for the easy way!&rdquo; Douglas called after him, then he
+      turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had slipped from his side
+      to follow the deacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!&rdquo; she pleaded. &ldquo;You won't go away like
+      that. He'll be all right if you'll only wait. I'm NOT coming back. I'm not&mdash;honestly.
+      I'm going on with the show, to-night, and I'm going this time FOREVER.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going to stay here with me,&rdquo; cried Douglas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, and I won't be to blame for your
+      unhappiness.&rdquo; She faced him firmly now. &ldquo;I don't belong to your world, and
+      I don't want to try any more. I'm what he called me&mdash;I'm a circus
+      riding girl. I was born in the circus, and I'll never change. That's my
+      work&mdash;riding, and it's yours to preach. You must do your work, and
+      I'LL do MINE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already waiting at
+      the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eloise!&rdquo; She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound of
+      Barker's voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen,&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;Although we are obliged to announce
+      that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear to-night, we offer you in
+      her place an able substitute, Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black, untamed
+      horse, Barbarian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! No!&rdquo; cried Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Polly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better!&rdquo; She seized the bridle from the frightened girl's
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Polly!&rdquo; shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must! I will!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one step to
+      follow her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better let her alone and get out o' here,&rdquo; said Strong. His voice
+      was like a firebrand to Douglas. He turned upon him, white with rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You drove her to this.&rdquo; His fists were clenched. He drew back to strike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the uplifted arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job.&rdquo; The pastor lowered his arm,
+      but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's Poll?&rdquo; asked Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning his head.
+      He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about and saw Eloise. He guessed the
+      truth. A few quick strides brought him to the entrance curtains. He threw
+      them back and looked into the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God! Why don't Barker stop her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror at Jim's
+      behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas crossed to his side and looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly was springing onto the back of Barbarian. He was a poorly trained
+      horse, used by the other girl for more showy, but less dangerous feats
+      than Polly's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's goin' through her regular turn with him, she's tryin' ter break her
+      neck,&rdquo; said Jim. &ldquo;She wants ter do it. It's your fault!&rdquo; he cried, turning
+      upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes. He was half insane, he cared little whom
+      he wounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why can't we stop her?&rdquo; cried Douglas, unable to endure the strain. He
+      took one step inside the entrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; not that!&rdquo; Jim dragged him back roughly. &ldquo;If she sees you now, it
+      will be the end.&rdquo; They watched in silence. &ldquo;She's over the first part,&rdquo;
+       Jim whispered, at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he watched the scene inside the
+      ring. Eloise stood at the pastor's side, horror-stricken at Polly's
+      reckless behaviour. She knew Barbarian. It was easy to guess the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's comin' to the hoops,&rdquo; Jim whispered, hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him,&rdquo; the other girl
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly made the first leap toward the hoops. The horse was not at fault; it
+      was Polly. She plunged wildly, the audience started. She caught her
+      footing with an effort. One, two, three hoops were passed. She threw
+      herself across the back of the horse and hung, head downward, as he
+      galloped around the ring. The band was playing loudly, the people were
+      cheering. She rose to meet the last two hoops.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's swayin',&rdquo; Jim shrieked in agony. &ldquo;She's goin' to fall.&rdquo; He covered
+      his face with his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side. She mounted and fell again. She
+      rose and staggered in pursuit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't bear it,&rdquo; groaned Douglas. He rushed into the ring, unconscious
+      of the thousands of eyes bent upon his black, ministerial garb, and caught
+      the slip of a girl in his arms just as she was about to sink fainting
+      beneath the horse's hoofs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Barker brought the performance to a halt with a crack of his whip. The
+      audience stood on tiptoe. White-faced clowns and gaily attired acrobats
+      crowded around Polly and the pastor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas did not see them. He had come into his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's bringin' her out,&rdquo; whispered Eloise, who still watched at the
+      entrance. Jim dared not look up, his head was still in his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it over?&rdquo; he groaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. I can't tell yet.&rdquo; She stepped aside as Douglas came out of
+      the tent, followed by a swarm of performers. He knelt on the soft grass
+      and rested Polly's head upon his knee. The others pressed about them. It
+      seemed to Douglas that he waited hours; then her white lids quivered and
+      opened and the colour crept back to her lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all right, Jim!&rdquo; called one of the men from the crowd. &ldquo;She's only
+      fainted.&rdquo; The big fellow had waited in his tracks for the verdict.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson&mdash;a thrill shot
+      through his veins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was no use, was it?&rdquo; She shook her head with a sad little smile. He
+      knew that she was thinking of her failure to get out of his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's because I need you so much, Polly, that God won't let you go away
+      from me.&rdquo; He drew her nearer to him, and the warm blood that shot to her
+      cheeks brought back her strength. She rose unsteadily, and looked about
+      her. Jim came toward her, white and trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Poll?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Muvver Jim!&rdquo; She threw herself into his arms and clung to him,
+      sobbing weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one could ever remember just how the audience left the big top that
+      night, and even Barker had no clear idea of how Jim took down the tents,
+      loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan on its way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the last wagon was beginning to climb the long, winding road of the
+      moon-lit hill, Jim turned to Polly, who stood near the side of the
+      deserted ring. His eyes travelled from her to the parson, who waited near
+      her. She was in her street clothes now, the little brown Quakerish dress
+      which she had chosen to wear so much since her return from the parsonage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time,&rdquo; he said, and he placed
+      her hand in that of the parson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, Muvver Jim,&rdquo; faltered Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. A mother's spirit
+      breathed through his kiss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad it's like this,&rdquo; he said, then turned away and followed the
+      long, dotted line of winding lights disappearing slowly over the hill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes travelled after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I belong with them,&rdquo; she said, still gazing after Jim and the wagons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You belong with me,&rdquo; he answered in a firm, grave voice, and something in
+      the deep, sure tones told her that he was speaking the truth. She lifted
+      one trembling hand to his shoulder, and looked up into his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew her into his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      THE END <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/859.txt b/859.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9d60c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/859.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4622 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Polly of the Circus
+
+Author: Margaret Mayo
+
+Posting Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #859]
+Release Date: March, 1997
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLLY OF THE CIRCUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Keller
+
+
+
+
+
+POLLY OF THE CIRCUS
+
+By Margaret Mayo
+
+
+To My "_KLEINE MUTTER_"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+The band of the "Great American Circus" was playing noisily. The
+performance was in full swing.
+
+Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing tent sat a young,
+wistful-faced girl, chin in hand, unheeding the chatter of the women
+about her or the picturesque disarray of the surrounding objects. Her
+eyes had been so long accustomed to the glitter and tinsel of circus
+fineries that she saw nothing unusual in a picture that might have held
+a painter spellbound.
+
+Circling the inside of the tent and forming a double line down the
+centre were partially unpacked trunks belching forth impudent masses
+of satins, laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, and paste jewels.
+The scent of moist earth mingled oddly with the perfumed odours of the
+garments heaped on the grass. Here and there high circles of lights
+threw a strong, steady glare upon the half-clad figure of a robust
+acrobat, or the thin, drooping shoulders of a less stalwart sister.
+Temporary ropes stretched from one pole to another, were laden with
+bright-coloured stockings, gaudy, spangled gowns, or dusty street
+clothes, discarded by the performers before slipping into their circus
+attire. There were no nails or hooks, so hats and veils were pinned to
+the canvas walls.
+
+The furniture was limited to one camp chair in front of each trunk,
+the till of which served as a tray for the paints, powders and other
+essentials of "make-up."
+
+A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, so that the performers
+might wash the delicately shaded tights, handkerchiefs and other small
+articles not to be entrusted to the slow, careless process of the
+village laundry. Some of these had been washed to-night and hung to dry
+on the lines between the dusty street garments.
+
+Women whose "turns" came late sat about half-clothed reading, crocheting
+or sewing, while others added pencilled eyebrows, powder or rouge to
+their already exaggerated "make-ups." Here and there a child was putting
+her sawdust baby to sleep in the till of her trunk, before beginning
+her part in the evening's entertainment. Young and old went about their
+duties with a systematic, business-like air, and even the little knot
+of excited women near Polly--it seemed that one of the men had upset a
+circus tradition--kept a sharp lookout for their "turns."
+
+"What do you think about it, Polly?" asked a handsome brunette, as she
+surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer.
+
+"About what?" asked Polly vacantly.
+
+"Leave Poll alone; she's in one of her trances!" called a motherly,
+good-natured woman whose trunk stood next to Polly's, and whose business
+was to support a son and three daughters upon stalwart shoulders, both
+figuratively and literally.
+
+"Well, _I_ ain't in any trance," answered the dark girl, "and _I_ think
+it's pretty tough for him to take up with a rank outsider, and expect
+us to warm up to her as though he'd married one of our own folks." She
+tossed her head, the pride of class distinction welling high in her
+ample bosom.
+
+"He ain't asking us to warm up to her," contradicted Mademoiselle
+Eloise, a pale, light-haired sprite, who had arrived late and was making
+undignified efforts to get out of her clothes by way of her head. She
+was Polly's understudy and next in line for the star place in the bill.
+
+"Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of Death' stunt, ain't he?"
+continued the brunette. "'Course that ain't a regular circus act,"
+she added, somewhat mollified, "and so far she's had to dress with
+the 'freaks,' but the next thing we know, he'll be ringin' her in on a
+regular stunt and be puttin' her in to dress with US."
+
+"No danger of that," sneered the blonde; "Barker is too old a stager to
+mix up his sheep and his goats."
+
+Polly had again lost the thread of the conversation. Her mind had
+gone roving to the night when the frightened girl about whom they
+were talking had made her first appearance in the circus lot, clinging
+timidly to the hand of the man who had just made her his wife. Her eyes
+had met Polly's, with a look of appeal that had gone straight to the
+child's simple heart.
+
+A few nights later the newcomer had allowed herself to be strapped into
+the cumbersome "Leap of Death" machine which hurled itself through space
+at each performance, and flung itself down with force enough to break
+the neck of any unskilled rider. Courage and steady nerve were the
+requisites for the job, so the manager had said; but any physician would
+have told him that only a trained acrobat could long endure the nervous
+strain, the muscular tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal.
+
+What matter? The few dollars earned in this way would mean a great deal
+to the mother, whom the girl's marriage had left desolate.
+
+Polly had looked on hungrily the night that the mother had taken the
+daughter in her arms to say farewell in the little country town where
+the circus had played before her marriage. She could remember no woman's
+arms about HER, for it was fourteen years since tender hands had carried
+her mother from the performers' tent into the moonlit lot to die. The
+baby was so used to seeing "Mumsie" throw herself wearily on the ground
+after coming out of the "big top" exhausted, that she crept to the
+woman's side as usual that night, and gazed laughingly into the
+sightless eyes, gurgling and prattling and stroking the unresponsive
+face. There were tears from those who watched, but no word was spoken.
+
+Clown Toby and the big "boss canvas-man" Jim had always taken turns
+amusing and guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in the ring. So
+Toby now carried the babe to another side of the lot, and Jim bore the
+lifeless body of the mother to the distant ticket-wagon, now closed for
+the night, and laid it upon the seller's cot.
+
+"It's allus like this in the end," he murmured, as he drew a piece of
+canvas over the white face and turned away to give orders to the men who
+were beginning to load the "props" used earlier in the performance.
+
+When the show moved on that night it was Jim's strong arms that lifted
+the mite of a Polly close to his stalwart heart, and climbed with her to
+the high seat on the head wagon. Uncle Toby was entrusted with the brown
+satchel in which the mother had always carried Polly's scanty wardrobe.
+It seemed to these two men that the eyes of the woman were fixed
+steadily upon them.
+
+Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-natured fellow, at first
+mumbled something about the kid being "excess baggage," but his
+objections were only half-hearted, for like the others, he was already
+under the hypnotic spell of the baby's round, confiding eyes, and he
+eventually contented himself with an occasional reprimand to Toby, who
+was now sometimes late on his cues. Polly wondered, at these times,
+why the old man's stories were so suddenly cut short just as she was so
+"comfy" in the soft grass at his feet. The boys who used to "look sharp"
+because of their boss at loading time, now learned that they might
+loiter so long as "Muvver Jim" was "hikin' it round for the kid." It was
+Polly who had dubbed big Jim "Muvver," and the sobriquet had stuck to
+him in spite of his six feet two, and shoulders that an athlete might
+have envied. Little by little, Toby grew more stooped and small lines
+of anxiety crept into the brownish circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips
+that had once shut so firmly became tender and tremulous, but neither of
+the men would willingly have gone back to the old emptiness.
+
+It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly first managed to climb
+up on the pole of an unhitched wagon and from there to the back of
+a friendly, Shetland pony. Jim and Toby had been "neglectin' her
+eddication" they declared, and from that time on, the blood of Polly's
+ancestors was given full encouragement.
+
+Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of adding the kid to the daily
+parade. She made her first appearance in the streets upon something very
+like a Newfoundland dog, guarded from the rear by Jim, and from the fore
+by a white-faced clown who was thought to be all the funnier because he
+twisted his neck so much.
+
+From the street parade to Polly's first appearance in the "big top,"
+had seemed a short while to Jim and Toby. They were proud to see her
+circling the ring in bright colours and to hear the cheers of the
+people, but a sense of loss was upon them.
+
+"I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who now took upon himself the
+credit of Polly's triumph.
+
+And what a triumph it was!
+
+Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done on the
+"concert boards." She swayed gracefully with the music. Her tiny sandals
+twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and then upon the other.
+
+Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim left the
+loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he hovered near the
+entrance, anxious and breathless. The performers crowded around the girl
+with outstretched hands and congratulations, as she came out of the ring
+to cheers and applause.
+
+But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his clumsy
+fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too small for them
+and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and Toby was remembering
+the little shoes that had once needed to be laced in the cold, dark
+mornings, and the strings that were always snapping.
+
+Something had gone.
+
+They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for everything
+we lose we gain something; they were simple souls, these two, they could
+only feel.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to the
+chatter about the "Leap of Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot outside,
+opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had bought for her
+that day. He was as blind to the picturesque outdoor life as she to her
+indoor surroundings, for he, too, had been with the circus since his
+earliest recollection.
+
+The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of tents
+and wagons. The great, red property vans were waiting to be loaded with
+the costumes and tackle which were constantly being brought from the
+"big top," where the evening performance was now going on. The gay
+striped curtains at the rear of the tent were looped back to give air
+to the panting musicians, who sat just inside. Through the opening,
+a glimpse of the audience might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and
+shifting uneasily. Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing
+"top," with the women performers stowed away in one end, the "ring
+horses" in the centre, and the men performers in the other end.
+
+A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing tent,
+to shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the back lot for a
+glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring.
+
+Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and
+floated in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the other
+side to make haste to get their places, forget their cares, and be
+children again.
+
+Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red fire shot
+into the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut "butchers," the
+popcorn boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the exhortations of the
+side-show "spieler," whose flying banners bore the painted reproductions
+of his "freaks." Here and there stood unhitched chariots, half filled
+trunks, trapeze tackle, paper hoops, stake pullers or other "properties"
+necessary to the show.
+
+Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and lanterns gave
+light for the loading of the wagons.
+
+There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the
+dressing tent to the "big top," as gaily decked men, women and animals
+came or went.
+
+Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn to be
+dressed as lions or bears. The wise old goose, with his modest grey
+mate, pecked at the green grass or turned his head from side to side,
+watching the singing clown, who rolled up the painted carcass and long
+neck of the imitation giraffe from which two property men had just
+slipped, their legs still encased in stripes.
+
+Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in the
+hope of some day getting into the performers' ring. Property men stole a
+minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they waited for more tackle
+to load in the wagons. Children of the performers were swinging on the
+tent ropes, chattering monkeys sat astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting
+their entrance to the ring. The shrieks of the hyenas in the distant
+animal tent, the roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the
+elephants mingled with the incessant clamour of the band. And back of
+all this, pointing upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire,
+white and majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit hills, that
+encircled the whole lurid picture. Jim's eyes turned absently toward the
+church as he sat fumbling with the lock of the little brown satchel.
+
+He had gone from store to store in the various towns where they had
+played looking for something to inspire wonder in the heart of a miss,
+newly arrived at her sixteenth year. Only the desperation of a last
+moment had forced him to decide upon the imitation alligator bag, which
+he now held in his hand.
+
+It looked small and mean to him as the moment of presentation
+approached, and he was glad that the saleswoman in the little country
+store had suggested the addition of ribbons and laces, which he now drew
+from the pocket of his corduroys. He placed his red and blue treasures
+very carefully in the bottom of the satchel, and remembered with regret
+the strand of coral beads which he had so nearly bought to go with them.
+
+He opened the large property trunk by his side, and took from it
+a laundry box, which held a little tan coat, that was to be Toby's
+contribution to the birthday surprise. He was big-hearted enough to be
+glad that Toby's gift seemed finer and more useful than his.
+
+It was only when the "Leap of Death" act preceding Polly's turn was
+announced, that the big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on the satchel
+and coat, and hid them away in the big property trunk. She would be out
+in a minute, and these wonders were not to be revealed to her until the
+close of the night's performance.
+
+Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon it, feeling like a
+criminal because he was hiding something from Polly.
+
+His consciousness of guilt was increased as he recalled how often she
+had forbidden Toby and himself to rush into reckless extravagances for
+her sake, and how she had been more nearly angry than he had ever seen
+her, when they had put their month's salaries together to buy her the
+spangled dress for her first appearance. It had taken a great many
+apologies and promises as to their future behaviour to calm her, and now
+they had again disobeyed her. It would be a great relief when to-night's
+ordeal was over.
+
+Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from the dressing tent and
+stopped to gaze at the nearby church steeple. The incongruity of the
+slang, that soon came from her delicately formed lips, was lost upon him
+as she turned her eyes toward him.
+
+"Say, Jim," she said, with a Western drawl, "them's a funny lot of guys
+what goes to them church places, ain't they?"
+
+"Most everybody has got some kind of a bug," Jim assented; "I guess they
+don't do much harm."
+
+"'Member the time you took me into one of them places to get me out a
+the rain, the Sunday our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch WE butted
+into wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers no cause for worry with that show
+a' theirn, would they, Jim?" She looked at him with withering disgust.
+"Say, wasn't that the punkiest stunt that fellow in black was doin' on
+the platform? You said Joe was only ten minutes gettin' the tire onto
+our wheel, but say, you take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another
+ten minutes as long as that one, I'd be too old to go on a-ridin'."
+
+Jim "'lowed" some church shows might be better than "that un," but Polly
+said he could have her end of the bet, and summed up by declaring it no
+wonder that the yaps in these towns was daffy about circuses, if they
+didn't have nothin' better an' church shows to go to.
+
+One of the grooms was entering the lot with Polly's horse. She stooped
+to tighten one of her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw her sway
+slightly and put one hand to her head. He looked at her sharply,
+remembering her faintness in the parade that morning.
+
+"You ain't feeling right," he said uneasily.
+
+"You just bet I am," Polly answered with an independent toss of her
+head. "This is the night we're goin' to make them rubes in there sit up,
+ain't it, Bingo?" she added, placing one arm affectionately about the
+neck of the big, white horse that stood waiting near the entrance.
+
+"You bin ridin' too reckless lately," said Jim, sternly, as he followed
+her. "I don't like it. There ain't no need of your puttin' in all them
+extra stunts. Your act is good enough without 'em. Nobody else ever done
+'em, an' nobody'd miss 'em if you left 'em out."
+
+Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice. The music was swelling
+for her entrance.
+
+"You ain't my MOTHER, Jim, you're my GRANDmother," she taunted; and,
+with a crack of her whip she was away on Bingo's back.
+
+"It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into her," Jim mumbled as he
+turned away, still seeing the flash in the departing girl's eyes.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+Polly and Bingo always made the audience "sit up" when they swept into
+the ring. She was so young, so gaily clad, so light and joyous in all
+her poses. She seemed scarcely to touch the back of the white horse, as
+they dashed round the ring in the glare of the tent lights. The other
+performers went through their work mechanically while Polly rode, for
+they knew the audience was watching her only.
+
+As for Polly, her work had never lost its first interest. Jim may have
+been right when he said that the spirit of the dead mother had got into
+her; but it must have been an unsatisfied spirit, unable to fulfil its
+ambition in the body that once held it, for it sometimes played strange
+pranks with Polly. To-night, her eyes shone and her lips were parted in
+anticipation, as she leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers of
+the wheel of silken ribbons held by Barker in the centre of the ring,
+and by Toby and the "tumblers" on the edge of the bank.
+
+With each change of her act, the audience cheered and frantically
+applauded. The band played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the end of
+her turn was coming. The "tumblers" arranged themselves around the ring
+with paper hoops; Bingo was fairly racing. She went through the first
+hoop with a crash of tearing paper and cheers from the audience.
+
+"Heigh, Bingo!" she shouted, as she bent her knees to make ready for the
+final leap.
+
+Bingo's neck was stretched. He had never gone so fast before. Barker
+looked uneasy. Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed tricks. Jim
+watched anxiously from the entrance.
+
+The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken. The attendant turned his
+eyes to glance at the oncoming girl; the hoop shifted slightly in his
+clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from Bingo's back, trusting to
+her first calculation. Her forehead struck the edge of the hoop. She
+clutched wildly at the air. Bingo galloped on, and she fell to the
+ground, striking her head against the iron-bound stake at the edge of
+the ring.
+
+Everything stopped. There was a gasp of horror; the musicians dropped
+their instruments; Bingo halted and looked back uneasily; she lay
+unconscious and seemingly lifeless.
+
+A great cry went up in the tent. Panic-stricken, men, women and children
+began to clamber down from their seats, while others nearest the ground
+attempted to jump into the ring. Barker, still grasping his long whip,
+rushed to the girl's side, and shouted wildly to Toby:
+
+"Say something, you. Get 'em back!"
+
+Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, his features worked
+convulsively, but he could not speak. His grief was so grotesque, that
+the few who saw him laughed hysterically. He could not even go to Polly,
+his feet seemed pinned to the earth.
+
+Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the audience. He lifted the
+limp form tenderly, and kneeling in the ring held her bruised head in
+his hands.
+
+"Can't you get a doctor!" he shouted desperately to Barker.
+
+"Here's the doctor!" some one called; and a stranger came toward them.
+He bent over the seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on the tiny wrist,
+his ear to the heart.
+
+"Well, sir?" Jim faltered, for he had caught the puzzled look in the
+doctor's eyes as his deft hand pressed the cruelly wounded head.
+
+"I can't tell just yet," said the doctor. "She must be taken away."
+
+"Where can we take her?" asked Jim, a look of terror in his great,
+troubled eyes.
+
+"The parsonage is the nearest house," said the doctor. "I am sure the
+pastor will be glad to have her there until we can find out how badly
+she is hurt."
+
+In an instant Barker was back in the centre of the ring. He announced
+that Polly's injuries were slight, called the attention of the audience
+to the wonderful concert to take place, and bade them make ready for the
+thrilling chariot race which would end the show.
+
+Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden and staggered out of
+the tent, while the band played furiously and the people fell back
+into their seats. The Roman chariots thundered and clattered around the
+outside of the ring, the audience cheered the winner of the race, and
+for the moment Polly was forgotten.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+THE blare of the circus band had been a sore temptation to Mandy Jones
+all afternoon and evening. Again and again it had dragged her from
+her work to the study window, from which she could see the wonders so
+tantalisingly near. Mandy was housekeeper for the Rev. John Douglas,
+but the unwashed supper dishes did not trouble her, as she watched the
+lumbering elephants, the restless lions, the long-necked giraffes and
+the striped zebras, that came and went in the nearby circus lot. And
+yet, in spite of her own curiosity, she could not forgive her vagrant
+"worse half," Hasty, who had been lured from duty early in the day. She
+had once dubbed him Hasty, in a spirit of derision, and the name had
+clung to him. The sarcasm seemed doubly appropriate to-night, for he had
+been away since ten that morning, and it was now past nine.
+
+The young pastor for a time had enjoyed Mandy's tirades against her
+husband, but when she began calling shrilly out of the window to chance
+acquaintances for news of him, he slipped quietly into the next room to
+finish to-morrow's sermon. Mandy renewed her operations at the window
+with increased vigour when the pastor had gone. She was barely saved
+from pitching head foremost into the lot, by the timely arrival of
+Deacon Strong's daughter, who managed, with difficulty, to connect the
+excited woman's feet with the floor.
+
+"Foh de Lor' sake!" Mandy gasped, as she stood panting for breath and
+blinking at the pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; "I was suah most gone
+dat time." Then followed another outburst against the delinquent Hasty.
+
+But the deacon's daughter did not hear; her eyes were already wandering
+anxiously to the lights and the tinsel of the little world beyond the
+window.
+
+This was not the first time to-day that Mandy had found herself talking
+to space. There had been a steady stream of callers at the parsonage
+since eleven that morning, but she had long ago confided to the pastor
+that she suspected their reasons.
+
+"Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors," she said, "and a-askin'
+why you don' stop de circus from a-showin' nex' to de church and den
+a-cranin' afar necks out de winder, till I can't get no housework done."
+
+"That's only human nature," Douglas had answered with a laugh; but
+Mandy had declared that she knew another name for it, and had mumbled
+something about "hypocritters," as she seized her broom and began to
+sweep imaginary tracks from in front of the door.
+
+Many times she had made up her mind to let the next caller know just
+what she thought of "hypocritters," but her determination was usually
+weakened by her still greater desire to excite increased wonder in the
+faces of her visitors.
+
+Divided between these two inclinations, she gazed at Julia now; the
+shining eyes of the deacon's daughter conquered, and she launched forth
+into an eager description of how she had just seen a "wondeful striped
+anamule" with a "pow'ful long neck walk right out of the tent," and how
+he had "come apart afore her very eyes," and two men had slipped "right
+out a' his insides." Mandy was so carried away by her own eloquence and
+so busy showing Julia the sights beyond the window, that she did not
+hear Miss Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who entered, followed by
+the Widow Willoughby dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the hand.
+
+The women were protesting because their choir practice of "What
+Shall the Harvest Be?" had been interrupted by the unrequested
+acompaniment{sic} of the "hoochie coochie" from the nearby circus band.
+
+"It's scandalous!" Miss Perkins snapped. "Scandalous! And SOMEBODY ought
+to stop it." She glanced about with an unmistakable air of grievance at
+the closed doors, feeling that the pastor was undoubtedly behind one of
+them, when he ought to be out taking action against the things that her
+soul abominated.
+
+"Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that _I_ could," piped the widow, with
+a meek, martyred air. She was always martyred. She considered it an
+appropriate attitude for a widow. "He can't blame ME if the choir is out
+of key to-morrow." "Mercy me!" interrupted the spinster, "if there isn't
+Julia Strong a-leaning right out of that window a-looking at the circus,
+and her pa a deacon of the church, and this the house of the pastor.
+It's shocking! I must go to her."
+
+"Ma, let me see, too," begged Willie, as he tugged at his mother's
+skirts.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby hesitated. Miss Perkins was certainly taking a long
+while for her argument with Julia. The glow from the red powder outside
+the window was positively alarming.
+
+"Dear me!" she said, "I wonder if there can be a fire." And with this
+pretext for investigation, she, too, joined the little group at the
+window.
+
+A few moments later when Douglas entered for a fresh supply of paper,
+the backs of the company were toward him. He crossed to the study table
+without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to himself at the eager way
+in which they were hanging out of the window.
+
+Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and boyish in
+manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit. He had seemed too young
+to the deacons when he was appointed to their church, and his keen
+enjoyment of outdoor games and other healthful sports robbed him of a
+certain dignity in their eyes. Some of the women of the congregation had
+been inclined to side with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that
+the pastor found so many other interests when he might have been sitting
+in dark, stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had
+been either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had
+gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction of
+right, that had only left them floundering. He intended to quit the room
+now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset a chair as he turned
+from the table. This brought a chorus of exclamations from the women,
+who chattering rushed quickly toward him.
+
+"What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?" simpered the widow. "He
+dragged me quite to the window."
+
+Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five-foot-six widow and then at
+the helpless, red-haired urchin by her side, but he made no comment
+beyond offering a chair to each of the women.
+
+"Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued," declared Miss
+Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair, adjusted her skirts
+for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the parson, who had dutifully
+seated himself near the table.
+
+"I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody," whimpered the widow,
+with an injured air; "but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What Shall the
+Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT." She jerked her hand in
+the direction of the window. The band was again playing the "hoochie
+coochie."
+
+"Never mind about the choir practice," said Douglas, with a smile. "It
+is SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its music. As for that
+music out there, it is NOT without its compensations. Why, the small
+boys would rather hear that band than the finest church organ in the
+world."
+
+"And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you preach,
+most likely," snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult to injury for
+him to try to CONSOLE her.
+
+"Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if they'd only
+tell the truth about it," said Douglas, laughing.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Miss Perkins.
+
+"Why not?" asked Douglas. "I am sure I don't know what they do inside
+the tents, but the parade looked very promising."
+
+"The PARADE!" the two women echoed in one breath. "Did YOU see the
+parade?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Douglas, enthusiastically. "But it didn't compare
+with the one I saw at the age of eight." He turned his head to one side
+and looked into space with a reminiscent smile. The widow's red-haired
+boy crept close to him.
+
+"The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice," he continued, dreamily,
+"the elephants huge as mountains, the great calliope wafted my soul to
+the very skies, and I followed that parade right into the circus lot."
+
+"Did you seed inside de tent?" Willie asked, eagerly.
+
+"I didn't have enough money for that," Douglas answered, frankly.
+He turned to the small boy and pinched his ear. There was sad
+disappointment in the youngster's face, but he brightened again, when
+the parson confessed that he "peeped."
+
+"A parson peeping!" cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins.
+
+"I was not a parson then," corrected Douglas, good-naturedly.
+
+"You were GOING to be," persisted the spinster.
+
+"I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact."
+
+The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion. He was looking very
+sheepish.
+
+"Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!" said Mandy.
+
+"Hasty, where have you been all day?" demanded Douglas, severely.
+
+Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time. "Did yo' say whar's I
+been, sah?"
+
+"Dat's what he done ast yo'," Mandy prompted, threateningly.
+
+"I bin 'ceived, Mars John," declared Hasty, solemnly. Mandy snorted
+incredulously. Douglas waited.
+
+"A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis mawnin' dat ef I carry water
+fo' de el'phants, he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin', an' I make a
+'greement wid him. Mars John, did yo' ebber seed an' el'phant drink?" he
+asked, rolling his eyes. John shook his head.
+
+"Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once
+an--swish--water gone."
+
+Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly.
+
+"Well, sah," continued Hasty, "I tote water fo' dem el'phants all day
+long, an' when I cum roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't let me in.
+An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey pulls me out by de laigs an'
+beats me." He looked from one to the other expecting sympathy.
+
+"Serves you right," was Mandy's unfeeling reply. "If yo's so anxious to
+be a-totin' water, jes' yo' come along outside and tote some fo' Mandy."
+
+"I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy," protested Hasty. "I'se hurted in
+mah arm."
+
+"What hurt yo'?"
+
+"Tiger."
+
+"A tiger?" exclaimed the women in unison.
+
+"Done chawed it mos' off," he declared, solemnly. "Deacon Elverson, he
+seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad."
+
+"Deacon Elverson?" cried the spinster. "Was Deacon Elverson at the
+circus?"
+
+"He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me," Hasty answered,
+innocently.
+
+"You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen," said Douglas to Mandy, with
+a dry smile; "he's talking too much for a wounded man."
+
+Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, advising him with fine scorn
+"to get de tiger to chew off his laigs, so's he wouldn't have to walk no
+mo'."
+
+The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly. Elverson's
+behaviour was beyond their power of expression. Miss Perkins turned
+to the pastor, as though he were somehow to blame for the deacon's
+backsliding, but before she could find words to argue the point, the
+timid little deacon appeared in the doorway, utterly unconscious of the
+hostile reception that Hasty had prepared for him. He glanced nervously
+from one set face to the other, then coughed behind his hat.
+
+"We're all very much interested in the circus," said Douglas. "Can't you
+tell us about it?"
+
+"I just went into the lot to look for my son," stammered the deacon. "I
+feared Peter had strayed."
+
+"Why, deacon," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I just stopped by your house and
+saw Mrs. Elverson putting Peter to bed."
+
+The deacon was saved from further embarrassment by an exclamation from
+Julia, who had stayed at the window. "Oh, look; something has happened!"
+she cried. "There's a crowd. They are coming this way."
+
+Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and saw an excited mob
+collecting before the entrance to the main tent. He had time to discover
+no more before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with excitement and
+rolling her large, white-rimmed eyeballs.
+
+"Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!" she cried.
+"Dr. Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?"
+
+"Of course," said Douglas, hurrying outside.
+
+There were horrified exclamations from the women, who were aghast at the
+idea of a circus rider in the parsonage. In their helpless indignation,
+they turned upon the little deacon, feeling intuitively that he was
+enjoying the drama. Elverson was retreating toward the door when he was
+suddenly thrust aside by Douglas.
+
+In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of humanity, her
+slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder. The silk stocking was torn
+from one bruised ankle; her hair fell across her face, veiling it from
+the unfriendly glances of the women. Douglas passed out of sight up the
+stairway without looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor.
+
+Mandy reached the front door in time to push back a crowd of intruders.
+She had barely closed the door when it was thrust open by Jim.
+
+"Where is she?" he demanded.
+
+"Go 'way f'um here!" cried Mandy, as her eyes unconsciously sought the
+stairs.
+
+Jim followed the direction of her glance, and cleared the steps at a
+bound. Mandy pursued him, muttering angrily. Deacon Elverson, too, was
+about to follow, when a grim reminder from Miss Perkins brought him
+around and he made for the door instead. He started back on opening it,
+for standing on the threshold was a clown in his grotesque "make-up";
+his white clothes were partially concealed by a large, travelling
+ulster, held together by one button. In one hand he carried a small
+leather satchel; in the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was
+thrown across his arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his mother's
+skirt were the only greetings received by the trembling old man in the
+doorway.
+
+He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other, waiting
+for a word of invitation to enter; but none came.
+
+"Excuse me," he said; "I just brought some of her little things. She'd
+better put on her coat when she goes out. It's gettin' kinder chilly."
+
+He looked again into the blank faces; still no one spoke. He stepped
+forward, trembling with anxiety. A sudden fear clutched at his heart,
+the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red painted lips began to
+quiver.
+
+"It ain't--It ain't that, is it?" he faltered, unable to utter the word
+that filled him with horror.
+
+Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the old
+man's voice. "I guess you will find the person you are looking for
+upstairs," she answered tartly; and flounced out of the house, calling
+to Julia and the others to follow her, and declaring that she would soon
+let folks know how the parson had brought a "circus ridin' girl" into
+the parsonage.
+
+The painted clown stood alone, looking from one wall to the other, then
+he crossed the room and placed the alligator satchel and the little coat
+and hat on the study table. He was careful not to wrinkle the coat,
+for this was Polly's birthday gift. Jim and he had planned to have
+sandwiches and soda pop on the top of the big wagon when they offered
+their treasures tonight; but now the wagons would soon be leaving--and
+where was Polly? He turned to ask this question as Mandy came down the
+stairs.
+
+"Well, if dar ain't anudder one," she cried.
+
+"Never mind, Mandy," said Douglas, who was just behind her, carrying a
+small water pitcher, and searching for a bottle of brandy which had been
+placed in the medicine chest for emergencies.
+
+"You can take these upstairs," he told her, when he had filled the
+pitcher with water and found the liquor. Mandy looked threateningly at
+Toby, then reluctantly went on her way.
+
+Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly. His was the first greeting
+that Toby had received, and he at last found voice to ask whether Polly
+was badly hurt.
+
+"The doctor hasn't told us yet," said Douglas, kindly.
+
+"I'm her Uncle Toby--not her REAL uncle," the old man explained, "but
+that's what she calls me. I couldn't come out right away, because I'm on
+in the concert. Could I see her now, please?"
+
+"Here's the doctor," said Douglas, as Hartley came down the stairs,
+followed by Jim. "Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?"
+
+"Yes, rather bad," said the doctor, adding quickly, as he saw the
+suffering in Toby's face, "but don't be alarmed. She's going to get
+well."
+
+"How long will it be before we can have her back--before she can ride
+again?" asked Jim gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his brown, worn
+hat in his hands.
+
+"Probably several months," said the doctor. "No bones are broken, but
+the ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received a bad blow on the
+head. It will be some time before she recovers consciousness." "What are
+we goin' to do, Jim?" asked Toby, helplessly.
+
+"You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here," said Douglas,
+seeing desperation written on their faces.
+
+"Here?" They looked at him incredulously.--And this was a parson!
+
+"Where are her parents?" the doctor asked, looking at Jim and Toby.
+
+"She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me," replied Jim. "We've took
+care of her ever since she was a baby."
+
+"Oh, I see," said the doctor. "Well, one of you'd better stay here until
+she can be moved."
+
+"That's the trouble; we can't," said Toby, hanging his head. "You see,
+sir, circus folks is like soldiers. No matter what happens, the show has
+to go on, and we got to be in our places."
+
+"Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here," said the doctor. "It is a
+fortunate thing that Mr. Douglas can manage this. Our town hospital
+burned down a few months ago, and we've been rather puzzled as to what
+to do with such cases." He took his leave with a cheery "Good night,"
+and a promise to look in upon the little patient later. Jim shuffled
+awkwardly toward the pastor.
+
+"It's mighty good of you to do this," he mumbled, "but she ain't goin'
+to be no charity patient. Me and Toby is goin' to look after her keep."
+
+"Her wants will be very few," Douglas answered, kindly. "You needn't
+trouble much about that."
+
+"I mean it," said Jim, savagely. He met Douglas's glance of surprise
+with a determined look, for he feared that his chance of being useful to
+Polly might be slipping out of his life.
+
+"You mustn't mind Jim," the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. "You
+see pain gets some folks different from others; and it always kinder
+makes him savage."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," Douglas answered, quickly. His own life had
+been so lonely, that he could understand the selfish yearning in the big
+man's heart. "You must do what you think best about these things; Mandy
+and I will look after the rest."
+
+Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen straight
+into his heart and discovered his petty weakness. He was about to turn
+toward the door when it was thrown open by Barker.
+
+"Where is she?" shouted the manager, looking from one to the other.
+
+"She can't come," said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew the storm
+of opposition with which Barker would meet the announcement.
+
+"Can't come?" shrieked Barker. "Of course she'll come. I can't get along
+without her. She's GOT to come." He looked at Jim, who remained silent
+and firm. "WHY ain't she comin'?" he asked, feeling himself already
+defeated.
+
+"She's hurt bad," was Jim's laconic reply.
+
+"The devil she is!" said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation.
+"Is that right?"
+
+"She won't be able to travel for some time," said Douglas.
+
+"Mr. Barker is our manager," Toby explained, as he edged his way to the
+pastor's side.
+
+"Some time!" Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for
+their misfortune. "Well, you just bet she will," he declared menacingly.
+
+"See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that," said Jim, facing
+the manager. "He's darned square even if he is a parson." Barker turned
+away. He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was irritated and upset at
+losing the star feature of his bill.
+
+"Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?" he muttered to himself, as his eye
+again travelled to the boss canvas-man. "You get out a' here, Jim," he
+shouted, "an' start them wagons. The show's got to go on, Poll or no
+Poll."
+
+He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a grudging
+thanks to the pastor. "It's all fired good of you to take her in," he
+said, "but it's tough to lose her. Good night!" He banged the door and
+clattered down the steps.
+
+Jim waited. He was trying to find words in which to tell his gratitude.
+None came; and he turned to go with a short "good-bye!"
+
+"Good night, Jim," said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the big
+fellow's hand.
+
+"Much obliged," Jim answered gruffly. It was his only polite phrase, and
+he had taught Polly to say it. Douglas waited until Jim had passed down
+the steps, then turned to Toby, who still lingered near the table.
+
+"You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without sayin'
+'good-bye,' won't you, sir?" Toby pleaded.
+
+"Yes, indeed," Douglas promised.
+
+"I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel." He picked up
+the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's birthday gift. "Me
+an' Jim will be sendin' her more soon."
+
+"You're going to miss her, I'm afraid," Douglas said, feeling an
+irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence.
+
+"Lord bless you, yes, sir," Toby answered, turning upon him eagerly.
+"Me an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about everythin' to that
+little one. She wan't much bigger'n a handful of peanuts when we begun
+a-worryin' about her."
+
+"Well, Mandy will do the worrying now," Douglas laughed. "She's been
+dying for a chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she even tried it
+on me."
+
+"I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look kinder
+queer at me," said Toby, "and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe they might
+feel the same about her."
+
+"Oh, they're all right," Douglas assured him; "they'll be her friends in
+no time."
+
+"She's fit for 'em, sir," Toby pleaded. "She's good, clean into the
+middle of her heart."
+
+"I'm sure of it," Douglas answered.
+
+"I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people, sir,
+and I jes' wanted ye to know that there ain't finer families, or better
+mothers or fathers or grandfathers or grandmothers anywhere than we got
+among us. Why, that girl's mother rode the horses afore her, and her
+mother afore that, and her grandmother and grandfather afore that,
+an' there ain't nobody what's cared more for their good name and their
+children's good name an' her people has. You see, sir, circus folks
+is all like that; they's jes' like one big family; they tends to their
+business and takes good care o' theirselves--they has to--or they
+couldn't do their work. It's 'cause I'm leavin' her with you that I'm
+sayin' all this," the old man apologised.
+
+"I'm glad you told me, Toby," Douglas answered, kindly. "I've never
+known much about circus folks."
+
+"I guess I'd better be goin'," Toby faltered, as his eyes roved hungrily
+toward the stairway.
+
+"I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how she
+is."
+
+"Indeed I will," Douglas assured him, heartily.
+
+"You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so," he added.
+
+"I'll tell her," Douglas promised earnestly.
+
+"Good night!" The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable to find
+further pretext for staying.
+
+"Good night, Toby." Douglas extended his hand toward the bent figure
+that was about to shuffle past him. The withered hand of the white-faced
+clown rested in the strong grasp of the pastor, and his pale, little
+eyes sought the face of the stalwart man before him; a numb desolation
+was growing in his heart; the object for which he had gone on day by day
+was being left behind and he must stumble forth into the night alone.
+
+"It's hard to leave her," he mumbled; "but the show has got to go on."
+
+The door shut out the bent, old figure. Douglas stood for some time
+where Toby had left him, still thinking of his prophetic words. His
+revery was broken by the sounds of the departing wagons, the low
+muttered curses of the drivers, the shrieking and roaring of the
+animals, as the circus train moved up the distant hill. "The show has
+got to go on," he repeated as he crossed to his study table and seated
+himself for work in the dim light of the old-fashioned lamp. He put out
+one hand to draw the sheets of his interrupted sermon toward him, but
+instead it fell upon a small sailor hat. He twisted the hat absently in
+his fingers, not yet realising the new order of things that was coming
+into his life. Mandy tiptoed softly down the stairs. She placed one
+pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her large eyes skyward. "Dat
+sure am an angel chile straight from Hebben," she whispered. "She done
+got a face jes' like a little flower."
+
+"Straight from heaven," Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly to the
+table and picked up the satchel and coat.
+
+"You can leave the lamp, Mandy--I must finish to-morrow's sermon."
+
+She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as she saw
+the imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's face.
+
+"Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired," she said.
+
+"No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy!"
+
+She closed the door behind her, and Douglas was alone. He gazed absently
+at the pages of his unfinished sermon as he tapped his idle pen on the
+desk. "The show has got to go on," he repeated, and far up the hillside
+with the slow-moving wagons, Jim and Toby looked with unseeing eyes into
+the dim, star-lit distance, and echoed the thought: "The show has got to
+go on."
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+THE church bells were ringing their first warning for the morning
+service when Mandy peeped into the spare bedroom for the second time,
+and glanced cautiously at the wisp of hair that bespoke a feminine
+head somewhere between the covers and the little white pillow on the
+four-poster bed. There was no sound from the sleeper, so Mandy ventured
+across the room on tiptoe and raised the shades. The drooping boughs of
+Autumn foliage lay shimmering against the window panes, and through them
+might be seen the grey outline of the church. Mandy glanced again toward
+the bed to make sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened
+the invalid, then crossed to a small, rickety chair, laden with the
+discarded finery of the little circus rider.
+
+"Lawdy sakes!" she cried, holding up a spangled dress, admiringly.
+"Ain't dat beautiful!" She drew near the mirror, attempting to see the
+reflection of the tinsel and chiffon against her very ample background
+of gingham and avoirdupois. "You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat on,
+Honey," she chuckled to herself. "Wouldn't dem deacons holler if dey
+done see dat?"
+
+The picture of the deacons' astonishment at such a spectacle so grew
+upon Mandy, that she was obliged to cover her generous mouth to shut in
+her convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the little girl in the bed.
+She crossed to the old-fashioned bureau which for many months had stood
+unused against the wall. The drawer creaked as she opened it to lay away
+the gay, spangled gown.
+
+"It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on dem tings agin," she
+said, with a doubtful shake of her large, round head.
+
+Then she went back to the chair and picked up Polly's sandals, and
+examined the bead-work with a great deal of interest. "Lawdy, lawdy!"
+she cried, as she compared the size of the sandals to that of her
+own rough, worn shoes. She was again upon the point of exploding with
+laughter, as the church bell added a few, final and more emphatic clangs
+to its warning.
+
+She turned with a start, motioning a vain warning out of the window
+for the bell to be silent, but the little sleeper was already stirring
+uneasily on her pillow. One soft arm was thrown languidly over her head.
+The large, blue eyes opened and closed dreamily as she murmured the
+words of the clown song that Jim and Toby had taught her years ago:
+
+     "Ting ling,
+     That's what the bells sing----"
+
+Mandy reached the side of the bed as the girl's eyes opened a second
+time and met hers with a blank stare of astonishment. A tiny frown came
+into the small, white forehead.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked faintly, trying to find something
+familiar in the black face before her.
+
+"Hush, child, hush," Mandy whispered; "jes' you lie puffickly still.
+Dat's only de furs' bell a-ringin'."
+
+"First bell?" the girl repeated, as her eyes travelled quickly about the
+strange walls and the unfamiliar fittings of the room. "This ain't the
+show!" she cried, suddenly.
+
+"Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show," Mandy answered; and she laughed
+reassuringly.
+
+"Then where am I?" Polly asked, half breathless with bewilderment.
+
+"Nebber you mind 'bout dat," was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply.
+
+"But I DO mind," protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a sitting
+position. "Where's the bunch?"
+
+"De wat?" asked Mandy in surprise.
+
+"The bunch--Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!"
+
+"Lor' bless you!" Mandy exclaimed. "Dey's done gone 'long wid de circus,
+hours ago."
+
+"Gone! Show gone!" Polly cried in amazement. "Then what am I doing
+here?"
+
+"Hole on dar, honey! hole on!" Mandy cautioned. "Don't you 'cite
+yo'se'f."
+
+"Let me alone!" Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place a shawl
+around her. "I got to get out a-here."
+
+"You'se got plenty o' time for dat," Mandy answered, "yes' yo' wait
+awhile."
+
+"I can't wait, and I won't!" Polly shrieked, almost beside herself with
+anxiety. "I got to get to the next burg--Wakefield, ain't it? What time
+is it? Let me alone! Let me go!" she cried, struggling desperately.
+
+The door opened softly and the young pastor stood looking down at the
+picture of the frail, white-faced child, and her black, determined
+captor.
+
+"Here, here! What's all this about?" he asked, in a firm tone, though
+evidently amused.
+
+"Who are you?" returned the girl, as she shoved herself quickly back
+against the pillows and drew the covers close under her chin, looking at
+him oddly over their top.
+
+"She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful," Mandy explained, as she tried
+to regain enough breath for a new encounter.
+
+"Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly," he said, with mock
+seriousness.
+
+"How do you know I'm Polly?" the little rebel asked, her eyes gleaming
+large and desperate above the friendly covers.
+
+"If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell you,"
+he said, as he crossed to the bed.
+
+"I won't be quiet, not for nobody," Polly objected, with a bold
+disregard of double negatives. "I got to get a move. If you ain't goin'
+to help me, you needn't butt in."
+
+"I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet," Douglas replied. He was
+beginning to perceive that there were tasks before him other than the
+shaping of Polly's character.
+
+"What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?" she asked, as she shot a
+glance of suspicion from the pastor to Mandy. "What am I up against?"
+
+"Don't yuh be scared, honey," Mandy reassured her. "You's jes' as safe
+here as you done been in de circus."
+
+"Safer, we hope," Douglas added, with a smile.
+
+"Are you two bug?" Polly questioned, as she turned her head from one
+side to the other and studied them with a new idea. "Well, you can't get
+none the best of me. I can get away all right, and I will, too."
+
+She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but fell back
+with a cry of pain.
+
+"Dar, dar," Mandy murmured, putting the pillow under the poor, cramped
+neck, and smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's forehead. "Yuh done
+hurt yo'sef for suah dis time."
+
+The pastor had taken a step toward the bed. His look of amusement had
+changed to one of pity.
+
+"You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad fall, and you can't get
+away just yet, nor see your friends until you are better."
+
+"It's only a scratch," Polly whimpered. "I can do my work; I got
+to." One more feeble effort and she succumbed, with a faint "Jimminy
+Crickets!"
+
+"Uncle Toby told me that you were a very good little girl," Douglas
+said, as he drew up a chair and sat down by her side, confident by the
+expression on her face that at last he was master of the situation. "Do
+you think he would like you to behave like this?"
+
+"I sure am on the blink," she sighed, as she settled back wearily upon
+the pillow.
+
+"You'll be all right soon," Douglas answered, cheerily. "Mandy and I
+will help the time to go."
+
+"I recollect now," Polly faltered, without hearing him. "It was the last
+hoop. Jim seemed to have a hunch I was goin' to be in for trouble when
+I went into the ring. Bingo must a felt it, too. He kept a-pullin' and
+a-jerkin' from the start. I got myself together to make the last jump
+an'--I can't remember no more." Her head drooped and her eyes closed.
+
+"I wouldn't try just now if I were you," Douglas answered tenderly.
+
+"It's my WHEEL, ain't it?" Polly questioned, after a pause.
+
+"Yoah what, chile?" Mandy exclaimed, as she turned from the table, where
+she had been rolling up the unused bandages left from the doctor's call
+the night before.
+
+"I say it's my creeper, my paddle," Polly explained, trying to locate
+a few of her many pains. "Gee, but that hurts!" She tried to bend her
+ankle. "Is it punctured?"
+
+"Only sprained," Douglas answered, striving to control his amusement at
+the expression on Mandy's puzzled face. "Better not talk any more about
+it."
+
+"Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?" she asked, turning
+her head to one side and studying him quizzically.
+
+"I don't think there is," he replied good-naturedly.
+
+"How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?" she asked, as she studied the
+walls of the unfamiliar room.
+
+"We brought you here."
+
+"It's a swell place," she conceded grudgingly.
+
+"We are comfortable," he admitted, as a tell-tale smile again hovered
+about his lips. He was thinking of the changes that he must presently
+make in Miss Polly's vocabulary.
+
+"Is this the 'big top?' she asked.
+
+"The--what?" he stammered.
+
+"The main tent," she explained.
+
+"Well, no; not exactly. It's going to be your room now, Miss Polly."
+
+"My room! Gee! Think a' that!" she gasped, as the possibility of her
+actually having a room all of her own took hold of her mind. "Much
+obliged," she said with a nod, feeling that something was expected of
+her. She knew no other phrase of gratitude than the one "Muvver" Jim and
+Toby had taught her to say to the manager when she received from him the
+first stick of red and white striped candy.
+
+"You're very welcome," Douglas answered with a ring of genuine feeling
+in his voice.
+
+"Awful quiet, ain't it?" she ventured, after a pause. "Guess that's what
+woke me up."
+
+Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the thought of quiet as a disturber,
+and added that he feared it might at first be rather dull for her, but
+that Jim and Toby would send her news of the circus, and that she could
+write to them as soon as she was better.
+
+"I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write much,"
+Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"I will write for you," the pastor volunteered, understanding her
+plight.
+
+"You will?" For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in her
+eyes.
+
+"Every day," Douglas promised solemnly.
+
+"And you will show me how?"
+
+"Indeed I will."
+
+"How long am I in for?" she asked.
+
+"The doctor can tell better about that when he comes."
+
+"The doctor! So--it's as bad as that, eh?"
+
+"Oh, that need not frighten you," Douglas answered consolingly.
+
+"I ain't frightened," she bridled quickly; "I ain't never scared of
+nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm a-kickin'."
+
+"Oh, they will get along all right," he said reassuringly.
+
+"Get along?" Polly flashed with sudden resentment. "Get along WITHOUT
+MY ACT!" It was apparent from her look of astonishment that Douglas had
+completely lost whatever ground he had heretofore gained in her respect.
+"Say, have you seen that show?" She waited for his answer with pity and
+contempt.
+
+"No," admitted John, weakly.
+
+"Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like
+that. I'm the whole thing in that push," she said with an air of
+self-complacency; "and with me down and out, that show will be on the
+bum for fair."
+
+"I beg your pardon," was all Douglas could say, confused by the sudden
+volley of unfamiliar words.
+
+"You're kiddin' me," she said, turning her head to one side as was her
+wont when assailed by suspicion; "you MUST a seen me ride?"
+
+"No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus," Douglas told her
+half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon him.
+
+"What!" cried Polly, incredulously.
+
+"Lordy no, chile; he ain't nebber seed none ob dem tings," Mandy
+interrupted, as she tried to arrange a few short-stemmed posies in a
+variegated bouquet.
+
+"Well, what do you think of that!" Polly gasped. "You're the first rube
+I ever saw that hadn't." She was looking at him as though he were a
+curiosity.
+
+"So I'm a rube!" Douglas shook his head with a sad, little smile and
+good-naturedly agreed that he had sometimes feared as much.
+
+"That's what we always calls a guy like you," she explained ingenuously,
+and added hopefully: "Well, you MUST a' seen our parade--all the pikers
+see that--IT don't cost nothin'."
+
+"I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the charge of being a piker,"
+Douglas admitted half-sheepishly, "for I did see the parade."
+
+"Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion cage," she
+began excitedly. "You remember?"
+
+"It's a little confused in my mind--" he caught her look of amazement,
+"just AT PRESENT," he stammered, feeling her wrath again about to
+descend upon him.
+
+"Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand," she explained.
+
+"Sheet!" Mandy shrieked from her corner.
+
+"Yes--the billboards--the pictures," Polly said, growing impatient at
+their persistent stupidity.
+
+"She sure am a funny talkin' thing!" mumbled Mandy to herself, as she
+clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window.
+
+"You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?" Polly asked with a
+lingering suspicion in her voice.
+
+"Dead sure"; and Douglas smiled to himself as he lapsed into her
+vernacular.
+
+There was a moment's pause. Polly realised for the first time that she
+must actually readjust herself to a new order of things. Her eyes
+again roved about the room. It was a cheerful place in which to be
+imprisoned--even Polly could not deny that. The broad window at the back
+with its white and pink chintz curtains on the inside, and its frame of
+ivy on the outside, spoke of singing birds and sunshine all day long.
+Everything from the white ceiling to the sweet-smelling matting that
+covered the floor was spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed rocker near
+the curved window-seat with its pretty pillows told of days when
+a convalescent might look in comfort at the garden beneath; the
+counterpane, with its old-fashioned rose pattern, the little white
+tidies on the back of each chair, and Mandy crooning beside the window,
+all helped to make a homelike picture.
+
+She wondered what Jim and Toby would say if they could see her now,
+sitting like a queen in the midst of her soft coverlets, with no need to
+raise even a finger to wait upon herself.
+
+"Ain't it the limit?" she sighed, and with that Jim and Toby seemed to
+drift farther away. She began to see their life apart from hers. She
+could picture Jim with his head in his hands. She could hear his sharp
+orders to the men. He was always short with the others when anything
+went wrong with her.
+
+"I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps," she murmured, as a cloud stole
+across the flower-like face; then the tired muscles relaxed, and she
+ceased to rebel.
+
+"Muvver Jim"? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her to a
+knowledge of his presence.
+
+"That's what I calls him," Polly explained, "but the fellows calls him
+'Big Jim.' You might not think Jim could be a good mother just to look
+at him, but he is; only, sometimes, you can't tell him things you could
+a real mother," she added, half sadly.
+
+"And your real mother went away when you were very young?"
+
+"No, she didn't go AWAY----"
+
+"No?" There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice.
+
+"She went out," Polly corrected.
+
+"Out!" he echoed blankly.
+
+"Yes--finished--Lights out."
+
+"Oh, an accident." Douglas understood at last.
+
+"I don't like to talk about it." Polly raised herself on her elbow and
+looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit of forbidden
+family history. It was this look in the round eyes that had made Jim so
+often declare that the kid knew everything.
+
+"Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a knowed how she wound up. She
+was the best rider of her time, everybody says so, but she cashed in by
+fallin' off a skate what didn't have no more ginger 'an a kitten. If you
+can beat that?" She gazed at him with her lips pressed tightly together,
+evidently expecting some startling expression of wonder.
+
+"And your father?" Douglas asked rather lamely, being at a loss for
+any adequate comment upon a tragedy which the child before him was too
+desolate even to understand.
+
+"Oh, DAD'S finish was all right. He got his'n in a lion's cage where
+he worked. There was nothing slow about his end." She looked up for his
+approval.
+
+"For de Lord's sake!" Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's
+conversation grew upon her.
+
+"And now I'm down and out," Polly concluded with a sigh.
+
+"But THIS is nothing serious," said the pastor, trying to cheer her.
+
+"It's serious ENOUGH, with a whole show a'-dependin' on you. Maybe you
+don't know how it feels to have to knock off work."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do," Douglas answered quickly. "I was ill a while ago
+myself. I had to be in bed day after day, thinking of dozens of things
+that I ought to be doing."
+
+"Was you ever floored?" Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as she
+studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed.
+
+"'Deed he was, chile," Mandy cried, feeling that her opportunity had
+now arrived; "an' I had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. He act jes'
+like you did."
+
+"Did he?" Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had "nothin' on
+her," as she would have put it.
+
+"You ought to have heard him," continued Mandy, made eloquent by Polly's
+show of interest. "'What will dose poor folks do?' he kept a-sayin'.
+'yes' yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him. 'Dem poor folks will be better
+off dan dey would be a-comin' to yoah funeral.'"
+
+"Poor folks?" Polly questioned. "Do you give money to folks? We are
+always itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em."
+
+Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his disapproved
+methods, Mandy had continued eagerly:
+
+"An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to church and preach--" She got
+no further. A sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and Douglas to
+attention.
+
+"Preach!" Polly almost shouted. She looked at him with genuine alarm
+this time.
+
+"That will do, Mandy," Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome drama
+gathering about his head.
+
+"Great Barnum and Bailey!" Polly exclaimed, looking at him as though he
+were the very last thing in the world she had ever expected to see. "Are
+you a skypilot?"
+
+"That's what he am, chile." Mandy slipped the words in slyly, for she
+knew that they were against the pastor's wishes, but she was unable
+to restrain her mischievous impulse to sow the seeds of curiosity that
+would soon bear fruit in the inquisitive mind of the little invalid.
+
+"Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?" She continued
+to study the uncomfortable man at her side. "I never thought I'd be
+a-talkin' to one of you guys. What's your name?"
+
+"Douglas." He spoke shortly.
+
+"Ain't you got no handle to it?"
+
+"If you mean my Christian name, it's John."
+
+"Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't look like I
+s'posed they did."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're a'most as
+good lookin' as our strong man."
+
+"I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried parson,"
+Mandy chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's discomfort.
+
+"Looks don't play a very important part in my work," Douglas answered
+curtly. Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly anxious to get to
+a less personal topic.
+
+"Well, they count for a whole lot with us." She nodded her head
+decidedly. "How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?"
+
+"About a year," Douglas answered, with something of a sigh.
+
+"A year!" she gasped. "In a burg like this? You must have an awful lot
+of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long." She was wise in
+the ways of professional success.
+
+"Not many, I'm afraid." He wondered, for the first time, if this might
+be the reason for his rather indifferent success.
+
+"Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?"
+
+"A rep?" he repeated in surprise.
+
+"Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em. Uncle Toby's
+got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference in the big towns
+where you have a run."
+
+"Oh, I understand," Douglas answered in a tone of relief. "Well, I try
+to say something new each Sunday."
+
+"What kind of spiels do you give 'em?" she inquired with growing
+interest.
+
+"I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves and to
+forget their week-day troubles." He had never had occasion to define his
+efforts so minutely.
+
+"Well, that's jes' the same as us," Polly told him with an air of
+condescension; "only circuses draws more people 'an churches."
+
+"YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment," Douglas
+answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were many tricks in
+the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. And, after all, what
+was his preaching but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to hold
+his congregation by what he was saying, his listeners grew drowsy,
+and his sermon fell short of its desired effect. It was true that
+his position and hers had points of similarity. She was apparently
+successful; as for himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very
+hard and that sometimes a tired mother or a sad-faced child looked up at
+him with a smile that made the service seem worth while.
+
+Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was
+quick to find consolation for him.
+
+"You ain't got all the worst of it," she said. "If we tried to play a
+dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You certainly must
+give 'em a great show," she added, surveying him with growing interest.
+
+"It doesn't make much difference about the show--" Douglas began, but he
+was quickly interrupted.
+
+"That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus. One year ye give 'em
+the rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the next year you
+hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that the way it is with a
+church show?"
+
+"Much the same," Douglas admitted half-amusedly, half-regretfully. "Very
+often when I work the hardest, I seem to do the least good."
+
+"I guess our troubles is pretty much alike." Polly nodded with a
+motherly air of condescension. "Only there ain't so much danger in your
+act."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," he laughed.
+
+"Well, you take my tip," she leaned forward as though about to impart
+a very valuable bit of information. "Don't you never go in for ridin'.
+There ain't no act on earth so hard as a ridin' act. The rest of the
+bunch has got it easy alongside of us. Take the fellows on the trapeze.
+They always get their tackle up in jes' the same place. Take the
+balancin' acts; there ain't no difference in their layouts. Take any of
+'em as depends on regular props; and they ain't got much chance a-goin'
+wrong. But say, when yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't never no
+two times alike. If your horse is feelin' good, the ground is stumbly;
+if the ground ain't on the blink the horse is wobbly. Ther's always
+somethin' wrong somewheres, and yer ain't never knowin' how it's goin'
+ter end--especially when you got to do a careful act like mine. There's
+a girl, Eloise, in our bunch, what does a SHOWY act on a horse what
+Barker calls Barbarian. She goes on in my place sometimes--and say,
+them rubes applauds her as much as me, an' her stunts is baby tricks
+alongside o' mine. It's enough to make you sick o' art." She shook her
+head dolefully, then sat up with renewed interest.
+
+"You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, an' you got ter know
+your horse an' your ground for that. Now you get wise ter what I'm
+a-tellin' yer, and don't you NEVER go into ANYTHIN' what depends on
+ANYTHIN' else."
+
+"Thank you, Polly, I won't." Douglas somehow felt that he was very much
+indebted to her.
+
+"I seen a church show once," Polly said suddenly.
+
+"You did?" Douglas asked, with new interest.
+
+"Yes," she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further comment.
+
+"Did you like it?" he questioned, after a pause.
+
+"Couldn't make nothin' out of it--I don't care much for readin'."
+
+"Oh, it isn't ALL reading," he corrected.
+
+"Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He got the whole thing right out
+of a book."
+
+"Oh, that was only his text," laughed Douglas. "Text?"
+
+"Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his congrega----"
+
+"Easy! Easy!" she interrupted; "come again with that, will you?"
+
+"He told them the meaning of what he read." "Well, I don't know what
+he told 'em, but it didn't mean anythin' to me. But maybe your show is
+better'n his was," she added, trying to pacify him.
+
+Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused or grateful for Polly's
+ever-increasing sympathy. Before he could trust his twitching lips to
+answer, she had put another question to him.
+
+"Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?"
+
+"I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this morning."
+
+"Is this Sunday?" she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and looking
+about the room as though everything had changed colour.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And YOU GOT A MATINEE?" she exclaimed, incredulously.
+
+"We have services," he corrected, gently.
+
+"WE rest up on SUNDAYS," she said in a tone of deep commiseration.
+
+"Oh, I see," he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon another
+discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two professions.
+
+"What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?"
+
+"About Ruth and Naomi."
+
+"Ruth and who?"
+
+"Naomi," he repeated.
+
+"Naomi," she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she listened
+to the soft cadences of the word. "I never heard that name afore. It 'ud
+look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't it?"
+
+"It's a Bible name, honey," Mandy said, eager to get into the
+conversation. "Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it."
+
+"I LIKE to look at PICTURES," Polly answered tentatively. Mandy crossed
+the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel engravings.
+
+"We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt. Some of the
+folks is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't."
+
+She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend, but just
+then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large, old-fashioned Bible, and
+Douglas helped to place the ponderous book before the invalid.
+
+"See, honey, dar dey is," the old woman said, pointing to the picture of
+Ruth and Naomi.
+
+"Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?" Polly gasped, and her eyes shone with
+wonder. "Which one 's Ruth?"
+
+"Dis one," said Mandy, pointing with her thumb.
+
+"Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does it say
+about 'em?"
+
+"You can read it for yourself," Douglas answered gently. There was
+something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little mind.
+
+"Well, I ain't much on readin'--OUT LOUD," she faltered, growing
+suddenly conscious of her deficiencies. "Read it for me, will you?"
+
+"Certainly," and he drew his chair nearer to the bed. One strong hand
+supported the other half of the Bible, and his head was very near to
+hers as his deep, full voice pronounced the solemn words in which Ruth
+pleaded so many years before.
+
+"'Entreat me not to leave thee,'" he read, "'or to return from following
+after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I
+will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'"
+
+He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines.
+
+"Kind o' pretty, ain't it?" Polly said softly. She felt awkward and
+constrained and a little overawed.
+
+"There are far more beautiful things than that," Douglas assured her
+enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears.
+
+"There are?" And her eyes opened wide with wonder.
+
+"Yes, indeed," he replied, pitying more and more the starvation of mind
+and longing to bring to it floods of light and enrichment.
+
+"I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel," and she fell to studying him
+solemnly.
+
+"You would?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Is there any more to that story?" she asked, ignoring his question.
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"Would you read me a little more?" She was very humble now.
+
+"Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so
+to me and more also, if ought but death part me and thee.'"
+
+Their eyes met. There was a long pause. Suddenly the sharp, sweet notes
+of the church bell brought John Douglas to his feet with a start of
+surprise.
+
+"Have you got to go?" Polly asked regretfully.
+
+"Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the church. Open the window,
+Mandy!" And he passed out of the door and quickly down the stairs.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate his nephew for the
+ministry, the boy was less enthusiastic than his mother. He did not
+remonstrate, however, for it had been the custom of generations for at
+least one son of each Douglas family to preach the gospel of Calvinism,
+and his father's career as an architect and landscape gardener had not
+left him much capital.
+
+Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an artist by the few who
+understood his talents, but there is small demand for the builder of
+picturesque houses in the little business towns of the Middle West, and
+at last he passed away, leaving his son only the burden of his financial
+failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the profession in which his
+father had fared so badly. The hopeless, defeated look on the departed
+man's face had always haunted the boy, who was artist enough to feel his
+father's genius intuitively, and human enough to resent the injustice of
+his fate.
+
+Douglas's mother had suffered so much because of the impractical efforts
+of her husband, that she discouraged the early tendencies of the son
+toward drawing and mathematics and tried to direct his thoughts toward
+creeds and Bible history. When he went away for his collegiate course,
+she was less in touch with him; and he was able to steal time from his
+athletics to devote to his art. He spent his vacations in a neighbouring
+city before a drawing board in the office of a distinguished architect,
+his father's friend.
+
+Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, and he was relieved when
+at last he received his degree in theology and found himself appointed
+to a small church in the Middle West.
+
+His step was very bright the morning he first went up the path that
+led to his new home. His artistic sense was charmed by the picturesque
+approach to the church and parsonage. The view toward the tree-encircled
+spire was unobstructed, for the church had been built on the outskirts
+of the town to allow for a growth that had not materialised. He threw
+up his head and gazed at the blue hills, with their background of soft,
+slow-moving clouds. The smell of the fresh earth, the bursting of the
+buds, the forming of new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was
+very near to pain.
+
+He stopped half way up the path and considered the advantages of a new
+front to the narrow-eaved cottage, and when his foot touched the first
+step of the vine-covered porch, he was far more concerned about a new
+portico than with any thought of his first sermon.
+
+His speculations were abruptly cut short by Mandy, who bustled out
+of the door with a wide smile of welcome on her black face, and an
+unmistakable ambition to take him immediately under her motherly wing.
+She was much concerned because the church people had not met the new
+pastor at the station and brought him to the house. Upon learning that
+Douglas had purposely avoided their escort, preferring to come to his
+new home the first time alone, she made up her mind that she was going
+to like him.
+
+Mandy had long been a fixture in the parsonage. She and her worse half,
+Hasty Jones, had come to know and discuss the weaknesses of the many
+clergymen who had come and gone, the deacons, and the congregation, both
+individually and collectively. She confided to Hasty, that she "didn't
+blame de new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd."
+
+In the study that night, when she and Hasty helped Douglas to unpack his
+many boxes of books, they were as eager as children about the drawings
+and pictures which he showed them. His mind had gone beyond the
+parsonage front now, and he described to them the advantage of adding an
+extra ten feet to the church spire.
+
+Mandy felt herself almost an artist when she and Hasty bade the pastor
+good night, for she was still quivering from the contagion of Douglas's
+enthusiasm. Here, at last, was a master who could do something besides
+find fault with her.
+
+"I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat Mars Douglas and dat
+ere Deacon Strong clinches," she said to Hasty as they locked the
+doors and turned out the hall light. "Did yuh done see his jaw?" she
+whispered. "He look laughin' enough NOW, but jes' yuh wait till he done
+set dat'ere jaw a his'n and afar ain't nobody what's goin' ter unsot
+it."
+
+"Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin'," said Hasty, hoping for
+Mandy's assurance to the contrary.
+
+"What?" shrieked Mandy. "Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby already
+a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' proper?"
+
+"Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere widow?" asked Hasty,
+already enjoying the explosion which he knew his defence of the widow
+was sure to excite.
+
+"I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 'bout her clean floors,"
+answered Mandy, shortly. She turned out the last light, and tiptoed
+upstairs, trying not to disturb the pastor.
+
+John Douglas was busy already with pencil and paper, making notes of
+the plans for the church and parsonage, which he would perfect later
+on. Alas, for Douglas's day dreams! It was not many weeks before he
+understood with a heavy heart that the deacons were far too dull and
+uninspired to share his faith in beauty as an aid to man's spiritual
+uplift.
+
+"We think we've done pretty well by this church," said Deacon Strong,
+who was the business head, the political boss, and the moral mentor
+of the small town's affairs. "Just you worry along with the preachin',
+young man, and we'll attend to the buyin' and buildin' operations."
+
+Douglas's mind was too active to content itself wholly with the writing
+of sermons and the routine of formal, pastoral calls. He was a keen
+humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be interested in the heart
+stories and disappointments of many of the village unfortunates, some of
+whom were outside his congregation. The mentally sick, the despondent,
+who needed words of hope and courage more than dry talks on theology,
+found in him an ever ready friend and adviser, and these came to love
+and depend on him. But he was never popular with the creed-bound element
+of the church.
+
+Mandy had her wish about being on the spot the first time that the
+parson's jaw squared itself at Deacon Strong. The deacon had called
+at the parsonage to demand that Douglas put a stop to the boys playing
+baseball in the adjoining lot on Sunday. Douglas had been unable to see
+the deacon's point of view. He declared that baseball was a healthy and
+harmless form of exercise, that the air was meant to be breathed, and
+that the boys who enjoyed the game on Sunday were principally those who
+were kept indoors by work on other days. The close of the interview was
+unsatisfactory both to Douglas and the deacon.
+
+"Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up an' down de back," Mandy
+said later, when she described their talk to Hasty. "Dat 'ere deacon
+don' know nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson." She tossed her head
+with a feeling of superiority. She knew the way. Make him forget himself
+with a laugh. Excite his sympathy with some village underdog.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+MANDY had secretly enjoyed the commotion caused by the little
+circus-rider being left in the parsonage, at first, because of her
+inborn love of mischief, and later, because Polly had become second in
+her heart only to the pastor. She went about her work, crooning softly
+during the days of Polly's convalescence. The deep, steady voice of
+the pastor reading aloud in the pretty window overhead was company. She
+would often climb the stairs to tell them some bit of village gossip,
+and leave them laughing at a quaint comment about some inquisitive
+sister of the church, who had happened to incur her displeasure.
+
+As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly down to the sun-lit garden
+beneath the window; and Mandy fluttered about arranging the cushions
+with motherly solicitude.
+
+More days slipped by, and Polly began to creep through the little,
+soft-leaved trees at the back of the church, and to look for the deep,
+blue, sweet-scented violets. When she was able, Douglas took her with
+him to visit some of the outlying houses of the poor. Her woman's
+instinct was quick to perceive many small needs in their lives that he
+had overlooked, and to suggest simple, inexpensive joys that made them
+her devoted friends.
+
+Their evenings were divided between making plans for these unfortunates
+and reading aloud from the Bible or other books.
+
+When Polly gained courage, Douglas sometimes persuaded her to read to
+him--and the little corrections that he made at these times soon became
+noticeable in her manner of speech. She was so eager, so starved for
+knowledge, that she drank it as fast as he could give it. It was during
+their talks about grammar that Mandy generally fell asleep in her
+rocker, her unfinished sewing still in her lap.
+
+When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was always shared equally by
+Mandy and Hasty, Polly and the pastor. But at last a letter came from
+Jim only, and Douglas, who was asked to read it, faltered and stopped
+after the first few words.
+
+"It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any longer, Poll," the letter
+began, "we ain't got Toby with us no more. He didn't have no accident,
+it wasn't that. He just seemed kinder sick and ailin' like, ever since
+the night we had to leave you behind. I used to get him warm drinks and
+things, and try to pull 'im through, but he was always a-chillin' and
+a-achin'. If it wasn't one thing the matter, it was another. I done
+all I knowed you'd a-wanted me to, an' the rest of the folks was mighty
+white to him, too. I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he was. He
+couldn't get no more laughs in the show, so Barker had to put on another
+man with him. That kinder hurt him too--I s'pose--an' showed him the
+way that things was a-goin'. It was just after that, he wrote the parson
+a-tellin' him to never let you come back. He seemed to a' got an idee in
+his head that you was happier where you was. He wouldn't let me tell ye
+'bout his feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might mebbe make you
+come back. 'She's diff'runt from us,' he was allus a-sayin'. 'I never
+'spected to keep 'er.'"
+
+Douglas stopped. Polly was waiting, her face white and drawn. He had not
+told her of Toby's letter, because with it had come a request to "say
+nothin' to the kid."
+
+He felt that Polly was controlling herself with an effort until he
+should reach the end of Jim's letter, so he hurried on.
+
+"The parson's promise didn't get to him none too quick," he read. "That
+seemed to be what he was waitin' for. He give up the night it come, and
+I got him a little room in a hotel after the show, and let one of the
+other fellers get the stuff out o' town, so's I could stay with him up
+to the finish. It come 'round mornin'. There wasn't much to it--he just
+seemed tired and peaceful like. 'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' he
+said, meanin' the parson. 'She knows, she allus knows,' he whispered,
+meanin' you, Poll, and then he was on his way. He'd already give me what
+was saved up for you, and I'm sendin' it along with this--" A blue money
+order for two hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from the envelope
+when Douglas opened it.
+
+"I got everythin' ready afore I went on the next day, an' I went up and
+saw the little spot on the hill where they was goin' to stow him. It
+looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said she'd put some flowers on
+to it now and then. It was YOU what made me think o' that, Poll, 'cause
+it seemed to me what you would a' done; you was always so daffy about
+flowers, you and him.
+
+"I guess this letter's too long for me to be a-sayin' much about the
+show, but the 'Leap-a-Death' girl got hern last week. She wasn't strong
+enough for the job, nohow. I done what I could for her outside the show,
+'cause I knowed how you was always a-feelin' 'bout her. I guess the
+'Leap-a-Death's' husband is goin' to jump his job soon, if he gets
+enough saved up, 'cause him and Barker can't hit it off no more. We got
+a good deal o' trouble among the animals, too. None o' the snakes is
+sheddin' like they ought to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot
+bandage around that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too fresh with Trixy's
+grub the other night, and the new giraffe's got the croup in that
+seven-foot neck o' his'n. I guess you'll think I got the pip for fair
+this time, so I'll just get onto myself now and cut this short. I'll be
+writin' you agin when we hit Morgantown.
+
+"Your old Muvver Jim."
+
+
+Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still resting upon
+it. He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken figure in the opposite
+chair. Polly had made no sound, but her head had slipped lower and lower
+and she now sat very quietly with her face in her hands. She had been
+taught by Toby and Jim never to whimper.
+
+"What a plucky lot they are," thought Douglas, as he considered these
+three lonely souls, each accepting whatever fate brought with no
+rebellion or even surprise. It was a strange world of stoics in which
+these children of the amusement arena fought and lost. They came and
+went like phantoms, with as little consciousness of their own best
+interests as of the great, moving powers of the world about them. They
+felt no throes of envy, no bitterness. They loved and worked and "went
+their way."
+
+For once the pastor was powerless in the presence of grief. Both he and
+Mandy left the room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to be spared the
+outburst of tears that a sympathetic word might bring upon her. They
+allowed her to remain alone for a time, then Mandy entered softly with a
+tender good night and Douglas followed her cheerily as though nothing at
+all had happened.
+
+It was many weeks before Polly again became a companion to Douglas and
+Mandy, but they did not intrude upon her grief. They waited patiently
+for the time when youth should again assert itself, and bring back their
+laughing mate to them.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+When Polly understood that Toby was ACTUALLY GONE, it seemed to her
+that she could never laugh again. She had been too young to realise the
+inevitableness of death when it came to her mother, and now she could
+scarcely believe that Toby would never, never come back to her. She felt
+that she must be able to DRAG him back, that she could not go on without
+him. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was for all his care of
+her. She thought of the thousand little things that she might have done
+for him. She longed to recall every impatient word to him. His gentle
+reproachful eyes were always haunting her. "You must come back, Toby!"
+she cried. "You must!"
+
+It was only when body and mind had worn themselves out with yearning,
+that a numbness at last crept over her, and out of this grew a
+gradual consciousness of things about her and a returning sense of her
+obligation to others. She tried to answer in her old, smiling way and to
+keep her mind upon what they were saying, instead of letting it wander
+away to the past.
+
+Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the colour creeping back to her
+cheeks.
+
+She joined the pastor again in his visits to the poor. The women of
+the town would often see them passing and would either whisper to
+each other, shrug their shoulders, or lift their eyebrows with smiling
+insinuations; but Polly and the pastor were too much absorbed in each
+other to take much notice of what was going on about them.
+
+They had not gone for their walk to-day, because Mandy had needed Polly
+to help make ready for the social to be held in the Sunday-school-room
+to-night.
+
+Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas shut himself up in
+the study, and she was sure that he was writing; so when the village
+children stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's new-made cookies,
+she used her customary trick to get them away. "Tag--you're it!" she
+cried, and then dashed out the back door, pursued by the laughing,
+screaming youngsters. Mandy followed the children to the porch and stood
+looking after them, as the mad, little band scurried about the back
+yard, darted in and out amongst the trees, then up the side of the
+wooded hill, just beyond the church.
+
+The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day
+the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer dresses.
+Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by comparison with the
+children about her. She wore a plain, simple gown of white, which Mandy
+had helped her to make. It had been cut ankle-length, for Polly was now
+seventeen. Her quaint, old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her
+trick of knotting her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem
+older.
+
+Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill, then
+began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty had left
+under the vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at the parsonage. A
+social always meant perturbation for Mandy. She called sharply to Hasty,
+as he came down the path which made a short cut to the village:
+
+"So's you'se back, is you?" she asked, sarcastically.
+
+"Sure, I'se back," answered Hasty, good-naturedly, as he sank upon an
+empty box that had held some things for the social, and pretended to
+wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
+
+"Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago," said Mandy,
+as she took the letters and papers from his hand. "Five minutes is
+plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job."
+
+"I done been detained," Hasty drawled.
+
+"You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on," Mandy snapped at
+him.
+
+"Whar's Miss Polly?" Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to work.
+
+"Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you done
+fetch that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room."
+
+"But I wants her," Hasty insisted. "I'se been on very 'ticular business
+what she ought to know 'bout."
+
+"Business?" she repeated. "What kind ob business?"
+
+"I got to fix de Sunday-school-room," said Hasty, as he perceived her
+growing curiosity.
+
+"You come heah, nigger!" Mandy called, determined that none of the
+village doings should escape her. "Out wid it!"
+
+"Well, it's 'bout de circus," Hasty answered? seating himself again
+on the box. "Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next month dey's
+comin' here."
+
+"Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?" Mandy's eyes grew
+large with curiosity.
+
+"De very same," and Hasty nodded mysteriously.
+
+"How you know dat?" Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him.
+
+"'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show painted on
+it. It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all de pictures what dey
+pastes up."
+
+"And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?"
+
+"I done thought Miss Polly might want to know."
+
+"See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions into Miss
+Polly's head. She don' care no more 'bout dem things since her Uncle
+Toby done die. She done been satisfied right whar she am. Jes' you let
+her be."
+
+"I ain't done nothin'," Hasty protested.
+
+"Nebber do do nothin'," growled Mandy. "Go long now, and get a-work.
+Mos' four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready yet."
+
+Hasty picked up the empty box and the step-ladder and went out through
+the gate. He had barely disappeared when a peal of laughter was heard
+from the hillside, and before Mandy could get out of the way, the
+youngsters came tumbling down the path again.
+
+"Lawsy, lawsy," she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging the
+children. "You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey."
+
+"Tag! you're it!" Polly cried, as she touched the widow's auburn-haired
+offspring on the sleeve. There was much wailing when Willie passed the
+tag to little Jennie, the smallest girl in the crowd.
+
+"I won't play no more," she sobbed; "'cause I's always it."
+
+To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old circus song that the children
+had learned to love; and the little ones huddled about her in a circle
+to hear of the wonderful "Van Amberg" who used to "walk right into the
+lion's cage and put his head in the lion's mouth." The children were in
+a state of nerves that did credit to Polly as an entertainer, when Hasty
+broke in upon the song.
+
+"When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'."
+
+"I have one right now." And turning to the eager mites at her side,
+Polly told them to run along into the grove, and that she'd come pretty
+soon to teach them a new game.
+
+The youngsters went screaming and laughing on their way, and she
+breathed a sigh of relief as she threw herself down on the rustic seat
+that encircled the elm tree.
+
+"What is it, Hasty?" she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble with
+Mandy.
+
+"It's 'bout de circus," Hasty informed her bluntly.
+
+"The circus?" She rose and crossed to him quickly.
+
+"It's in Wakefield--en' nex' month it's a-comin' here."
+
+"Here?" Polly gasped.
+
+"I thought you'd want ter know," said Hasty, little surprised at her
+lack of enthusiasm.
+
+"Yes, of course." She turned away and pretended to look at the flowers.
+
+"Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus," said Hasty,
+uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake; but
+before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the house, carrying baskets
+and food, which Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. She looked
+at the girl's troubled face and drooping shoulders in surprise.
+
+"What make you look so serious, Honey?"
+
+"Just thinking," said Polly absently.
+
+"My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!" She was anxious to draw the
+girl out of her reverie.
+
+"Do you like it?" Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a
+moment before. "Do you think Mr. John will like it?"
+
+"Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. I done
+got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you think HE ebber
+seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve
+for all dat man know." Polly looked disappointed. "But udder folks
+sees," Mandy continued, comfortingly, "an' you certainly look mighty
+fine. Why, you's just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!"
+
+"Yes, I'm well now and able to work again." There was no enthusiasm in
+her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how unwelcome the old
+life would be to her.
+
+"Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Massa
+John."
+
+"Do you think so? Do I help him?--Do I?"
+
+"Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school what
+the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a
+lot of things what nobody else could a-learned 'im."
+
+"You mustn't say 'learned him,'" Polly corrected; "you must say 'taught
+him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them."
+
+"Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat." She rolled her large eyes at her young
+instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. "She's gwine ter
+have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells" thought Mandy, and she made ready
+to protest.
+
+"See here, ain't you nebber----"
+
+She was interrupted by a quick "Have you never" from Polly.
+
+"It dun make no difference what you say," Mandy snapped, "so long as
+folks understands you." She always grew restive under these ordeals; but
+Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered.
+
+"Oh, yes, it does," answered Polly. "I used to think it didn't; but
+it does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks look down on
+you."
+
+"I's satisfied de way I be," declared Mandy, as she plumped herself down
+on the garden bench and began to fidget with resentment.
+
+"The way I am," Polly persisted, sweetly.
+
+"See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' keepin de
+light burnin'?"
+
+"You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens set----"
+
+"So do I," interrupted Mandy; "I's doin' it NOW." For a time she
+preserved an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. "If I
+had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open my mouth, I'd
+done been tongue-tied afore I was born."
+
+"I could teach you in no time," volunteered Polly, eagerly.
+
+"I don't want to be teached," protested Mandy, doggedly. "Hast Jones
+says I's too smart anyhow. Men don't like women knowin' too much--it
+skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, and I ain't a-tryin' to get
+nobody else's," Mandy wound up flatly.
+
+"But he'd like you all the better," persisted Polly, laughing.
+
+"I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO nigger," snapped Mandy. "I's a
+busy woman, I is." She made for the house, then curiosity conquered her
+and she came back to Polly's side. "See here, honey, whose been l'arnin'
+you all dem nonsense?"
+
+"I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all the things he tells me, and at
+night I write them down and say them over. Do you see this, Mandy?" She
+took a small red book from her belt and put it into Mandy's black chubby
+fists.
+
+"I see some writin', if dat's what you mean," Mandy answered,
+helplessly.
+
+"These are my don'ts," Polly confided, as she pointed enthusiastically
+to worn pages of finely written notes.
+
+"You'se WHAT, chile?"
+
+"The things I mustn't do or say."
+
+"An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?" Mandy looked
+incredulous.
+
+"I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me," she said with growing
+pride.
+
+"Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for----"
+
+"Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?" Polly pointed reproachfully to the
+reminder in the little red book. It was a fortunate thing that Willie
+interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's temper was becoming
+very uncertain. The children had grown weary waiting for Polly, and
+Willie had been sent to fetch her. Polly offered to help Mandy with the
+decorations, but Willie won the day, and she was running away hand in
+hand with him when Douglas came out of the house.
+
+"Wait a minute!" he called. "My, how fine you look!" He turned Polly
+about and surveyed the new gown admiringly.
+
+"He did see it! He did see it!" cried Polly, gleefully.
+
+"Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?"
+
+"You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come," Mandy grunted.
+
+"Come, Willie!" called the girl, and ran out laughing through the trees.
+
+"What's this?" Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward fingers,
+and began to read: "'Hens set--'" He frowned.
+
+"Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,'" interrupted Mandy, disgustedly.
+
+"Her 'don'ts'?"
+
+"She done been set--sit--settin' up nights tryin' to learn what you done
+tole her," stuttered Mandy.
+
+"Dear little Polly," he murmured, then closed the book and put it into
+his pocket.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby came
+through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage, carrying bunting
+for the social. She was followed by Miss Perkins with a bucket of
+pickles, which Mandy promptly placed on top of Mrs. Elverson's ice
+cream. The women explained that they had come to put the finishing
+touches to the decorations. If anything was needed to increase Mandy's
+dislike of the widow, it was this announcement.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not been
+home since the afternoon school session. Upon learning that they were
+with Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and Douglas dispatched
+Mandy for them. She saw that her implied distrust of Polly had annoyed
+him, and she was about to apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on
+the scene, also carrying baskets and parcels for the social.
+
+Strong led the way. He always led the way and always told Elverson what
+to think. They had been talking excitedly as they neared the parsonage,
+for Strong disapproved of the recent changes which the pastor had made
+in the church service. He and Douglas had clashed more than once since
+the baseball argument, and the deacon had realised more and more that
+he had met a will quite as strong as his own. His failure to bend the
+parson to his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his
+mind from his business.
+
+"Can you beat that!" he would exclaim as he turned away from some
+disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.
+
+Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in her
+direction as she came running into the garden, leading the widow's two
+children.
+
+She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the gate, then
+hurried to Mrs. Willoughby, begging that the children be allowed to
+remain a little longer. She was making up a new game, she said, and
+needed Willie and Jennie for the set.
+
+"My children do not play in promiscuous games," said the widow, icily.
+
+"Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro"--Polly stammered. "It's a new game. You
+put two here, and two here, and----"
+
+"I don't care to know." The widow turned away, and pretended to talk to
+Julia.
+
+"Oh!" gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff.
+
+She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle. The blood flew
+from her cheeks, then she turned to go.
+
+Douglas stepped quickly to her side. "Wait a minute," he said. She
+paused, all eyes were turned upon them. "Is this a game that grown-ups
+can play?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course."
+
+"Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need a little amusement just now.
+Excuse me," he added, turning to the deacons. Then he ran with her out
+through the trees.
+
+The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast.
+
+"Well, what do you think of that?" said Mrs. Willoughby, as the flying
+skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man disappeared up the
+path.
+
+"I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me," said Miss Perkins.
+"The idea of a full-grown parson a-runnin' off to play children's games
+with a circus ridin' girl!"
+
+"She isn't such a child," sneered Julia.
+
+"It's ENOUGH to make folks talk," put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a sly
+look at the deacons.
+
+"And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service," bellowed Strong.
+
+"And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message," piped Elverson.
+
+"The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was sick,"
+snapped Miss Perkins. "But now she's perfectly well, and still a-hanging
+on. No wonder folks are talking."
+
+"Who's talking?" thundered Strong.
+
+"Didn't you know?" simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself nor
+caring, so long as the suspicion grew.
+
+"Know what?" yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby floundered. Miss
+Perkins rushed into the breach.
+
+"Well, if _I_ was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know
+something about what's going on in it."
+
+"What IS goin' on?" shrieked the now desperate deacon.
+
+The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged knowing glances, then shook
+their heads at his hopeless stupidity.
+
+Strong was not accustomed to criticism. He prided himself upon his
+acuteness, and was, above all, vain about his connection with the
+church. He looked from one woman to the other. He was seething with
+helpless rage. The little deacon at his side coughed nervously. Strong's
+pent up wrath exploded. "Why didn't YOU tell me, Elverson, that people
+was a-talkin'," he roared in the frightened man's ear.
+
+Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing definite came of the
+sounds; so Strong again turned to Miss Perkins:
+
+"What is going on?" he demanded.
+
+The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes heavenward,
+knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as this mysterious
+inference of things too terrible to mention. She was right. Strong
+uttered a desperate "Bah!" and began pacing up and down the garden with
+reckless strides.
+
+Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he came to a
+halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering sweetness.
+
+"What COULD folks say?" she asked. "A minister and a young circus riding
+girl living here like this with no one to--" She found no words at this
+point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, declared that the congregation
+should have no further cause for gossip, and went out quickly in search
+of Douglas.
+
+When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the women, and
+attempted a weak apology for the pastor. "I dare say the young man was
+very lonely--very--before she came."
+
+"Lonely?" snapped Miss Perkins. "Well, if HE was LONELY, _I_ didn't know
+it."
+
+The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong.
+
+The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland smiles to
+the Sunday-school-room, feeling that they had accomplished enough for
+the time being.
+
+Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the pastor.
+They turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld Douglas,
+hatless, tearing down the path. Strong called to him, but Douglas
+darted quickly behind the hedge. The deacons looked at one another in
+speechless astonishment. Presently the silence was broken by the distant
+voice of Polly counting from one to one hundred. The secret was out! The
+pastor, a leader of the church, was playing hide-and-seek.
+
+"Mr. Douglas!" shouted Strong, when his breath had returned.
+
+"Hush, hush!" whispered Douglas, looking over the hedge. He peeped
+cautiously about him, then came toward the men with a sigh of relief.
+"It's all right. She has gone the other way."
+
+"It'll be a good thing for you if she never comes back," said Strong,
+and Douglas's quick ear caught an unpleasant meaning in his tone.
+
+"What's that?" the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice.
+
+"We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I want to
+talk to you about 'em."
+
+"Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key."
+
+"Never mind about the key," shouted Strong, angrily.
+
+"But I DO mind." Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his voice.
+
+"We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay here?"
+
+"Indeed! And why?" The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his jaw
+was becoming very square.
+
+"Because she's been here long enough."
+
+"I don't agree with you there."
+
+"Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not. She's got to
+go."
+
+"Go?" echoed Douglas.
+
+"Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to that."
+
+"And who do you mean by 'we'?"
+
+"The members of this congregation," replied Strong, impatiently.
+
+"Am I to understand that YOU are speaking for THEM?" There was a deep
+frown between the young pastor's eyes. He was beginning to be perplexed.
+
+"Yes, and as deacon of this church."
+
+"Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me that
+that is MY affair."
+
+"Your affair!" shouted Strong. "When that girl is living under the
+church's roof, eating the church's bread!"
+
+"Just one moment! You don't quite understand. I am minister of this
+church, and for that position I receive, or am supposed to receive, a
+salary to live on, and this parsonage, rent free, to live in. Any
+guests that I may have here are MY guests, and NOT guests of the church.
+Remember that, please."
+
+There was an embarrassing silence. The deacons recalled that the
+pastor's salary WAS slightly in arrears. Elverson coughed meekly. Strong
+started.
+
+"You keep out of this, Elverson!" he cried. "I'm running this affair and
+I ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's."
+
+"I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it," answered Douglas, turning
+away and dismissing the matter.
+
+"Your duty is to your church," thundered Strong.
+
+"You're right about that, Deacon Strong'" answered Douglas, wheeling
+about sharply, "and my duty to the church is reason enough for my acting
+exactly as I am doing in this case."
+
+"Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl here?"
+
+"No, there are other reasons."
+
+"I thought so."
+
+"You've heard her story--you MUST have heard. She was left with me by an
+old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. Before he died
+he asked me to look after her. She has no one else. I shall certainly do
+so."
+
+"That was when she was hurt. She's well now, and able to go back where
+she came from. Do you expect us to have our young folks associatin' with
+a circus ridin' girl?"
+
+"So, that's it!" cried the pastor, with a pitying look. "You think this
+child is unfit for your homes because she was once in a circus. For
+some reason, circus to you spells crime. You call yourself a Christian,
+Deacon Strong, and yet you insist that I send a good, innocent girl
+back to a life which you say is sinful. I'm ashamed of you, Strong--I'm
+ashamed of you!"
+
+"That talk don't do no good with me," roared Strong. He was desperate at
+being accused of an unchristian attitude.
+
+"I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus. I don't care WHERE
+you send her. Get her away from HERE, that's all."
+
+"Not so long as she wishes to stay."
+
+"You won't?" Strong saw that he must try a new attack. He came close to
+Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation. "If you was a friend to
+the girl, you wouldn't want the whole congregation a-pointin' fingers at
+her."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks bad--bad for
+the girl, and bad for YOU--and folks is talkin'."
+
+"Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough to
+think that I--" Douglas stopped. He could not frame the question. "I
+don't believe it," he concluded shortly.
+
+"You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl."
+
+"Do YOU believe it?" He turned upon the little man at his side! "Do you
+believe it, Elverson?"
+
+Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the conversation,
+that he had become hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and the
+sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his power of speech. He was still
+gurgling and sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.
+
+"It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're going to do
+our duty by the church, and that girl must leave or----"
+
+"Or I must." Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. "That
+threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have said,
+I should refuse to remain in this church"--the deacon stepped forward
+eagerly--"were it not that I realise more than ever before how much
+you need me, how much you ignorant, narrow-minded creatures need to
+be taught the meaning of true Christianity." The deacon was plainly
+disappointed.
+
+"Is it possible?" gasped Elverson, weakly.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Strong, when he could
+trust himself to speak again.
+
+"I shall do what is best for Miss Polly," said the pastor quietly but
+firmly.
+
+He turned away to show that the interview was at an end. Strong followed
+him. Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to be mistaken.
+"Good afternoon, deacon."
+
+Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then at the gate, then at the
+pastor again. "I'll go," he shouted; "but it ain't the end!" He slammed
+the gate behind him.
+
+"Quite so, quite so," chirped Elverson, not having the slightest idea of
+what he was saying. He saw the frigid expression on the pastor's face,
+he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+Douglas dropped wearily onto the rustic bench. He sat with drooped head
+and unseeing eyes. He did not hear Polly as she scurried down the path,
+her arms filled with autumn leaves. She glanced at him, dropped the
+bright-coloured foliage, and slipped quickly to the nearest tree. "One,
+two, three for Mr. John," she cried, as she patted the huge, brown
+trunk.
+
+"Is that you, Polly?" he asked absently.
+
+"Now, it's your turn to catch me," she said, lingering near the tree.
+The pastor was again lost in thought. "Aren't you going to play any
+more?" There was a shade of disappointment in her voice. She came slowly
+to his side.
+
+"Sit here, Polly," he answered gravely, pointing to a place on the
+bench. "I want to talk to you."
+
+"Now, I've done something wrong," she pouted. She gathered up her
+garlands and brought them to a place near his feet, ignoring the seat at
+his side. "You might just as well tell me and get it over."
+
+"You couldn't do anything wrong," he answered, looking down at her.
+
+"Oh, yes, I could--and I've done it--I can see it in your face. What is
+it?"
+
+"What have you there?" he asked, trying to gain time, and not knowing
+how to broach the subject that in justice to her must be discussed.
+
+"Some leaves to make garlands for the social," Polly answered more
+cheerfully. "Would you mind holding this?" She gave him one end of a
+string of leaves.
+
+"Where are the children?"
+
+"Gone home."
+
+"You like the children very much, don't you, Polly?" Douglas was
+striving for a path that might lead them to the subject that was
+troubling him.
+
+"Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them." She looked at him with tender
+eyes.
+
+"You're the greatest baby of all." A puzzled line came between his eyes
+as he studied her more closely. "And yet, you're not such a child, are
+you, Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a young lady." He looked at
+her from a strange, unwelcome point of view. She was all of that as she
+sat at his feet, yearning and slender and fair, at the turning of her
+seventeenth year.
+
+"I wonder how you would like to go way?" Her eyes met his in terror.
+"Away to a great school," he added quickly, flinching from the very
+first hurt that he had inflicted; "where there are a lot of other young
+ladies."
+
+"Is it a place where you would be?" She looked up at him anxiously. She
+wondered if his "show" was about to "move on."
+
+"I'm afraid not," Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy heart.
+
+"I wouldn't like any place without you," she said decidedly, and seemed
+to consider the subject dismissed.
+
+"But if it was for your GOOD," Douglas persisted.
+
+"It could never be for my good to leave you."
+
+"But just for a little while," he pleaded. How was she ever to
+understand? How could he take from her the sense of security that he had
+purposely taught her to feel in his house?
+
+"Not even for a moment," Polly answered, with a decided shake of her
+head.
+
+"But you must get ahead in your studies," he argued.
+
+She looked at him anxiously. She was beginning to be alarmed at his
+persistence.
+
+"Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games."
+
+"Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous."
+
+"Pro-mis-cuous," she repeated, haltingly. "What does that mean?"
+
+"Indiscriminate." He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled look on
+her face. "Mixed up," he explained, more simply.
+
+"Our game wasn't mixed up." She was thinking of the one to which the
+widow had objected. "Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?"
+
+"It depends upon whom you catch," he answered with a dry, whimsical
+smile.
+
+"Well, I don't catch anybody but the children." She looked up at him
+with serious, inquiring eyes.
+
+"Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous." She did not hear
+him. She was searching for her book.
+
+"Is this what you are looking for?" he asked, drawing the missing
+article from his pocket.
+
+"Oh!" cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. "Mandy told you."
+
+"You've been working a long time on that."
+
+"I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me," she
+answered, timidly. "But I don't suppose I could."
+
+"I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly."
+
+"Do I?" she cried, eagerly.
+
+"I can help more if you will only let me. I can teach a bigger class in
+Sunday-school now. I got to the book of Ruth to-day."
+
+"You did?" He pretended to be astonished. He was anxious to encourage
+her enthusiasm.
+
+"Um hum!" She answered solemnly. A dreamy look came into her eyes. "Do
+you remember the part that you read to me the first day I came?" He
+nodded. He was thinking how care-free they were that day. How impossible
+such problems as the present one would have seemed then. "I know every
+bit of what you read by heart. It's our next Sunday-school lesson."
+
+"So it is."
+
+"Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?" She looked
+up into his troubled face.
+
+"We'll see, we'll see," he murmured, then tried to turn her mind
+toward other things. "Come now, let's find out whether you DO know your
+Sunday-school lesson. How does it begin?" There was no answer. She had
+turned away with trembling lips. "And Ruth said"--he took her two small
+hands and drew her face toward him, meaning to prompt her.
+
+"Entreat me not to leave thee," she pleaded. Her eyes met his. His face
+was close to hers. The small features before him were quivering with
+emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so easily within his grasp. His
+muscles grew tense and his lips closed firmly. He was battling with an
+impulse to draw her toward him and comfort her in the shelter of his
+strong, brave arms. "They shan't!" he cried, starting toward her.
+
+Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had heard and seen the things
+revealed to each of us only once. She would never again be a child.
+
+Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench.
+
+"What was the rest of the lesson?" he asked in a firm, hard voice.
+
+"I can't say it now," Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her white
+lids fluttered and closed.
+
+"Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, I'll help you." Douglas spoke
+sharply. He was almost vexed with her and with himself for the weakness
+that was so near overcoming them. "And Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to
+leave thee----'"
+
+"'Or to return from following after thee.'" She was struggling to keep
+back the tears. "'For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou
+lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my'
+"--She stopped.
+
+"That's right, go on," said Douglas, striving to control the
+unsteadiness in his own voice.
+
+"Where thou diest, will I die'"--her arms went out blindly.
+
+"Oh, you won't send me away, will you?" she sobbed. "I don't want to
+learn anything else just--except--from you." She covered her face and
+slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet.
+
+In an instant the pastor's strong arms were about her, his stalwart body
+was supporting her. "You shan't go away. I won't let you--I won't! Do
+you hear me, Polly? I won't!"
+
+Her breath was warm against his cheek. He could feel her tears, her arms
+about him, as she clung to him helplessly, sobbing and quivering in the
+shelter of his strong embrace. "You are never going to leave me--never!"
+
+A new purpose had come into his life, the realisation of a new
+necessity, and he knew that the fight which he must henceforth make for
+this child was the same that he must make for himself.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI
+
+"I'se goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take off dat ere widow's
+finishin' touches," said Mandy, as she came down the steps.
+
+"All right!" called Douglas. "Take these with you, perhaps they may
+help." He gathered up the garlands which Polly had left on the ground.
+His eyes were shining, he looked younger than Mandy had ever seen him.
+
+Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and crossed to
+the elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying to control her
+newly awakened emotions. Douglas felt intuitively that she needed this
+moment for recovery, so he piled the leaves and garlands high in Mandy's
+arms, then ran into the house with the light step of a boy.
+
+"I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up," said Mandy as she shot a
+sly glance at Polly.
+
+"That's good," Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling and
+blushing guiltily.
+
+"Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de parsonage
+to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room, whar dey belongs.
+Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin'
+de parson as how folks could jes' eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I
+ups an' tells her as how folks could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n
+MANDY'S floor, too. Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore
+Mandy to-night." She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the
+Sunday-school-room.
+
+Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her. She hardly knew which
+way to turn. She was happy, yet afraid. She felt like sinking upon her
+knees and begging God to be good to her, to help her. She who had once
+been so independent, so self-reliant, now felt the need of direction
+from above. She was no longer master of her own soul, something had
+gone from her, something that would never, never come again. While
+she hesitated, Hasty came through the gate looking anxiously over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Well, Hasty?" she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had something
+important on his mind.
+
+"It's de big one from de circus," he whispered, excitedly.
+
+"The big one?"
+
+"You know--De one what brung you."
+
+"You don't mean--?" Polly's question was answered by Jim himself who had
+followed Hasty quickly through the gate. Their arms were instantly about
+each other. Jim forgot Hasty and every one in the world except Polly,
+and neither of them noticed the horrified Miss Perkins and the Widow
+Willoughby, who had been crossing the yard on their way from the
+Sunday-school-room with Julia.
+
+"You're just as big as ever," said Polly, when she could let go of Jim
+long enough to look at him. "You haven't changed a bit."
+
+"You've changed enough for both of us." He looked at the unfamiliar long
+skirts and the new way of doing her hair. "You're bigger, Poll; more
+grown up like."
+
+"Oh, Jim!" She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the rather
+startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's buttonhole.
+
+"The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if I was a-comin' to see
+you, so as not to make you ashamed of me. Do you like 'em?" he asked,
+looking down approvingly at his new brown clothes.
+
+"Very much." For the first time Jim noticed the unfamiliar manner of her
+speech. He began to feel self-conscious. A year ago she would have said,
+"You bet!" He looked at her awkwardly. She hurried on: "Hasty told me
+you were showing in Wakefield. I knew you'd come to see me. How's Barker
+and all the boys?" She stopped with a catch in her throat, and added
+more slowly: "I suppose everything's different, now that Toby is gone."
+
+"He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in," Jim answered; "but
+maybe it was just as well he didn't. You'd hardly a-knowed him toward
+the last, he got so thin an' peeked like. He wasn't the same after we
+lost you, nobody was, not even Bingo."
+
+"Have you still got Bingo?" she asked, through her tears.
+
+"Yep, we got him," drawled Jim, "but he ain't much good no more. None
+of the other riders can get used to his gait like you was. There ain't
+nobody with the show what can touch you ridin', there never will be.
+Say, mebbe you think Barker won't let out a yell when he sees yer comin'
+back." Jim was jubilant now, and he let out a little yell of his own at
+the mere thought of her return. He was too excited to notice the look
+on Polly's face. "Toby had a notion before he died that you was never
+a-comin' back, but I told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, and
+when Barker sent me over here to-day to look arter the advertisin',
+he said he guessed you'd had all you wanted a' church folks. 'Jes' you
+bring her along to Wakefield,' he said, 'an' tell her that her place
+is waitin' for her,' and I will, too." He turned upon Polly with sudden
+decision. "Why, I feel jes' like pickin' yer up in my arms and carryin'
+you right off now."
+
+"Wait, Jim!" She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him.
+
+"I don't mean--not--to-day--mebbe"--he stammered, uncertainly, "but
+we'll be back here a-showin' next month."
+
+"Don't look at me now," Polly answered, as the dog-like eyes searched
+her face, "because I have to say something that is going to hurt you,
+Jim."
+
+"You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?" The big face was wrinkled and
+care-worn with trouble.
+
+"No, Jim," she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely hear her.
+
+"You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?" He tried to realise what
+such a decision might mean to him.
+
+"No, Jim." She answered tenderly, for she dreaded the pain that she must
+cause the great, good-hearted fellow. "You mustn't care like that," she
+pleaded, seeing the blank desolation that had come into his face. "It
+isn't because I don't love you just the same, and it was good of Barker
+to keep my place for me, but I can't go back."
+
+He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve. "Why, Jim, when I
+lie in my little room up there at night"--she glanced toward the window
+above them--"and everything is peaceful and still, I think how it used
+to be in the old days, the awful noise and the rush of it all, the
+cheerless wagons, the mob in the tent, the ring with its blazing lights,
+the whirling round and round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops,
+till my head got dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the
+show, and the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble
+of the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the animals,
+and then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I riding through the
+streets in tights, Jim! Tights!" She covered her face to shut out the
+memory. "I couldn't go back to it, Jim! I just couldn't!" She turned
+away, her face still hidden in her hands. He looked at her a long while
+in silence.
+
+"I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it," he said doggedly.
+
+"You aren't ANGRY, Jim?" She turned to him anxiously, her eyes pleading
+for his forgiveness.
+
+"Angry?" he echoed, almost bitterly. "I guess it couldn't ever come
+to that a-tween you an' me. I'll be all right." He shrugged his great
+shoulders. "It's just kinder sudden, that's all. You see, I never
+figured on givin' yer up, and when you said you wasn't comin' back, it
+kinder seemed as though I couldn't see nothin' all my life but long,
+dusty roads, and nobody in 'em. But it's all right now, and I'll just be
+gettin' along to the wagon."
+
+"But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas," Polly protested, trying to
+keep him with her until she could think of some way to comfort him.
+
+"I'll look in on him comin' back," said Jim, anxious to be alone with
+his disappointment. He was out of the gate before she could stop him.
+
+"Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you." She watched
+him going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into his brown coat
+pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes. He did not look back, as he
+used to do, to wave a parting farewell, and she turned toward the house
+with a troubled heart. She had reached the lower step when Strong and
+Elverson approached her from the direction of the church.
+
+"Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?" demanded Strong.
+
+She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong assured
+her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop her if she wished
+to go. He saw the blank look on her face. "We ain't tryin' to pry into
+none of your private affairs," he explained; "but my daughter saw you
+and that there feller a makin' up to each other. If you're calculatin'
+to run away with him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by
+doin' it quick."
+
+"The parson!"
+
+"YOU can't blame the congregation for not wantin' him to keep you here.
+You got sense enough to see how it looks. HE'D see it, too, if he wasn't
+just plain, bull-headed. Well he'd better get over his stubbornness
+right now, if he don't we'll get another minister, that's all."
+
+"Another minister? You don't mean--?" It was clear enough now. She
+recalled Douglas's troubled look of an hour ago. She remembered how he
+had asked if she couldn't go away. It was this that he meant when he
+promised not to give her up, no matter what happened. In an instant
+she was at the deacon's side pleading and terrified. "You wouldn't get
+another minister! Oh, please, Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! You
+were right about Jim, he DID come to get me and I am going back to the
+circus--only you won't send Mr. Douglas away, you won't! Say you won't!"
+She was searching his eyes for mercy. "It wasn't HIS fault that I kept
+staying on. He didn't know how to get rid of me. He DID try, he tried
+only to-day."
+
+"So he's comin' 'round," sneered Strong.
+
+"Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, will you?" she hurried on
+anxiously. "You'll let him stay, no matter what he does, if I promise to
+go away and never, never come back again?"
+
+"I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him," Strong grumbled. "He talks
+pretty rough sometimes, but he's been a good enough minister. I ain't
+forgettin' that."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mr. Strong, thank you. I'll get my things; it won't take
+a minute." She was running up the steps when a sudden thought stopped
+her. She returned quickly to Strong. "We'd better not let him know just
+yet. You can tell him afterward. Tell him that I ran away--Tell him
+that----"
+
+She was interrupted by Douglas, who came from the house. "Hello, Strong,
+back again?" he asked, in some surprise. Polly remained with her eyes
+fixed upon the deacon, searching for some way of escape. The pastor
+approached; she burst into nervous laughter. "What's the joke?" Douglas
+asked.
+
+"It's only a little surprise that the deacon and I are planning." She
+tried to control the catch in her voice. "You'll know about it soon,
+won't he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr. Strong!" She flew into the house,
+laughing hysterically.
+
+Douglas followed her to the steps with a puzzled frown. It was unlike
+Polly to give way to her moods before others. "Have you gentlemen
+changed your minds about the little girl staying on?" he asked,
+uneasily.
+
+"It's all right now," said Strong, seating himself with a complacent
+air.
+
+"All right? How so?" questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by the
+deacon's evident satisfaction.
+
+"Because," said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, "because your
+circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord."
+
+"Have you been talking to that girl?" asked Douglas, sternly.
+
+"I have," said Strong, holding his ground.
+
+"See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may forget
+that I'm a minister." The knuckles on Douglas's large fists grew whiter.
+
+"She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said either.
+She's goin' back to the circus."
+
+"I don't believe you."
+
+"You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just
+a-callin' on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and a-promisin'
+that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he come back."
+
+"You lie!" cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating deacon.
+
+"There's the fellow now," cried Strong, as he pointed to the gate.
+"Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar."
+
+Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching. His face lighted up with
+relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow.
+
+"How are yer, Mr. Douglas?" said Jim, awkwardly.
+
+"You've seen Polly?" asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the hand.
+
+"Yes, I've seen her."
+
+"The deacon here has an idea that Polly is going back to the circus with
+you." He nodded toward Strong, almost laughing at the surprise in store
+for him.
+
+"Back to the circus?" asked Jim.
+
+"Did she say anything to you about it?" He was worried by the
+bewilderment in Jim's manner.
+
+Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached the steps in time to
+catch the last few words, slipped quickly between them. She wore her
+coat and hat, and carried a small brown satchel.
+
+"Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?" she said, turning her back upon the
+pastor and motioning to Jim not to answer. Douglas gazed at her in
+astonishment.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse, strained voice. He glanced at
+the coat and hat. "Where are you going?"
+
+Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim.
+
+"What made you come back? Why didn't you wait for me down the street?
+Now, you've spoiled everything." She pretended to be very vexed with
+him. The big fellow looked puzzled. He tried to protest, but she put a
+warning finger to her lips and pressed the little brown satchel into his
+hand. "It's no use," she went on hurriedly. "We might as well tell them
+everything now." She turned to Douglas and pretended to laugh. "You have
+found us out."
+
+The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead was
+deepening.
+
+"Oh, see how serious he looks," she teased, with a toss of her head
+toward the grim-visaged pastor.
+
+"Is this some trick?" he demanded, sternly.
+
+"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "Wish me luck."
+
+She held out one small hand; he did not take it. She wavered, then she
+felt the eyes of the deacons upon her. Courage returned and she spoke in
+a firm, clear voice: "I am going to run away."
+
+Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly.
+
+"Run away?" he exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"Yes, to the circus with Jim."
+
+"You couldn't DO such a thing," he answered, excitedly. "Why, only a
+moment ago you told me you would never leave me."
+
+"Oh, but that was a moment ago," she cried, in a strained, high voice.
+"That was before Jim came. You see, I didn't know HOW I felt until I saw
+Jim and heard all about my old friends, how Barker is keeping my place
+for me, and how they all want to see me. And I want to see them, and
+to hear the music and the laughter and the clown songs--Oh, the clown
+songs!" She waltzed about, humming the snatch of melody that Mandy had
+heard the morning that Polly first woke in the parsonage.
+
+        "Ting, ling.
+        That's how the bells ring,
+        Ting, ling, pretty young thing."
+
+She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, and gazed at them with a
+brave, little smile. "Oh, it's going to be fine! Fine!"
+
+"You don't know what you're doing," said Douglas. He seized her roughly
+by the arm. Pain was making him brutal. "I won't LET you go! Do you hear
+me? I won't--not until you've thought it over."
+
+"I have thought it over," Polly answered, meeting his eyes and trying
+to speak lightly. Her lips trembled. She could not bear for him to
+think her so ungrateful. She remembered his great kindness; the many
+thoughtful acts that had made the past year so precious to her.
+
+"You've been awfully good to me, Mr. John." She tried to choke back a
+sob. "I'll never forget it--never! I'll always feel the same toward you.
+But you mustn't ask me to stay. I want to get back to them that knew me
+first--to my OWN! Circus folks aren't cut out for parsons' homes, and
+I was born in the circus. I love it--I love it!" She felt her strength
+going, and cried out wildly: "I want Bingo! I want to go round and round
+the ring! I want the lights and the music and the hoops! I want the
+shrieks of the animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at
+night! I want to ride in the big parade! I want to live and die--just
+die--as circus folks die! I want to go back! I want to go back!"
+
+She put out one trembling hand to Jim and rushed quickly through the
+gate laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling to him to follow.
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+LONELY days followed Polly's desertion of the parsonage. Mandy went
+about her duties very quietly, feeling that the little comments which
+once amused the pastor had now become an interruption to thoughts in
+which she had no part. He would sit for hours with his head in his
+hands, taking no notice of what passed before him. She tried to think of
+new dishes to tempt his appetite, and shook her head sadly as she bore
+the untasted food back to the kitchen.
+
+She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings lying open upon his study
+table. She remembered the zeal with which he had planned to remodel the
+church and parsonage, when he first came to them; how his enthusiasm had
+gradually died for lack of encouragement; and how he had at last put
+his books in a cupboard, where they grew dusty from long neglect. She
+marvelled at their reappearance now, but something in his set, far-away
+look made her afraid to inquire. Thus she went on from day to day,
+growing more impatient with Hasty and more silent with the pastor.
+
+Mandy needed humor and companionship to oil the wheels of her humdrum
+life; there was no more laughter in the house, and she began to droop.
+
+Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the complacency
+of the village was again upset by the arrival of the "Great American
+Circus."
+
+There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for speculation was
+now at fever heat about the pastor. "Would he try to see her? had he
+forgotten her? and what had he ever found in her?" were a few of the
+many questions that the women were asking each other. Now, that the
+cause of their envy was removed, they would gladly have reinstated the
+pastor as their idol; for, like all truly feminine souls, they could
+not bear to see a man unhappy without wishing to comfort him, nor happy
+unless they were the direct cause of his state. "How dare any man be
+happy without me?" has been the cry of each woman since Eve was created
+to mate with Adam.
+
+Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of Polly's
+disappearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons or their recent
+disapproval of him. He avoided meeting them oftener than duty required;
+and Strong felt so uncomfortable and tongue-tied in his presence that
+he, too, was glad to make their talks as few as possible.
+
+Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or about his
+continued connection with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood
+was on the point of exploding from an over-accumulation of unanswered
+questions.
+
+He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor, listened
+to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his parishioners, and shut himself
+up with his books or walked alone on the hill behind the church.
+
+He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus lot for
+the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance was closing.
+It had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss Polly was not in the
+parade that morning, and to know that the pastor had made no effort
+to find out about her. For weeks both she and Hasty had hoped that the
+return of the circus might bring Polly back to them; but now it was
+nearly night and there had been no word from her. Why didn't she come
+running in to see them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the
+pastor stayed away on the hills all day?
+
+Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so finally she
+drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held her small wad of
+savings, and told Hasty "to go long to de show and find out 'bout Miss
+Polly."
+
+She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at the
+door for the second time that afternoon.
+
+"Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked.
+
+"No, sah, he ain't," said Mandy, very shortly. She felt that Strong
+and Elverson had been "a-tryin' to spy on de parson all day," and she
+resented their visits more than she usually did.
+
+"What time are you expectin' him?"
+
+"I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him."
+
+Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps. She saw from the
+window that he met Elverson in front of the church.
+
+"Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble," she mumbled.
+
+The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had straggled
+down the street. She opened the door and stood on the porch; the house
+seemed to suffocate her. What was keeping Hasty?
+
+He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he brought
+unwelcome news.
+
+"Ain't she dar?"
+
+"She's wid 'em, all right," said Hasty.
+
+"Yuh seed her?"
+
+"Naw, I didn't done SEED her."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She want in de show."
+
+"What you jes' tell me?"
+
+"She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride."
+
+"See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?"
+
+"I don' rightly know," said Hasty. "A great big man, what wored clothes
+like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says as how he's
+'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. An' den he says
+as how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den everybody look disappinted
+like, an' den out comes de udder gal on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I
+ain't heard no more 'bout Miss Polly."
+
+"Why didn't you done ask somebody?"
+
+"Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz hurryin' ever'body to get
+out of de tent. I done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git ma money's
+worth?' an' den ebberbody laugh, an' he shove me 'long wid de rest of de
+folks, an' here I is."
+
+"She's sick, dat's what _I_ says," Mandy declared, excitedly; "an'
+somebody's got to do somethin'!"
+
+"I done all I knowed," drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was regretting
+her twenty-five-cent investment.
+
+"Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire," was Mandy's impatient
+reply. "I got to keep dem vittels warm fer Massa John."
+
+She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to get hold
+of Polly. "Dat baby-faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy all wobbly 'bout
+de heart," she declared to herself, as she crossed to the window for a
+sight of the pastor.
+
+It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the path from the
+hill. She lighted the study-lamp, rearranged the cushions, and tried to
+make the room look cheery for his entrance. He stopped in the hall and
+hung up his hat. There was momentary silence. Would he shut himself in
+his room for the night, or would he come into the study? At last the
+door opened and Mandy hastened to place a chair for him.
+
+"Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired," she said.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Douglas, absently.
+
+"Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here to-night. It's
+more cheerfuller."
+
+The side-showman was already beginning his spiel in the lot below. The
+lemonade venders{sic} and the popcorn sellers were heard crying their
+wares. Douglas did not answer her. She bustled from the room, declaring
+"she was jes' goin' ter bring him a morsel."
+
+He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot. The flare
+of the torches and the red fire came up to meet his pale, tense face.
+"How like the picture of thirteen months ago," he thought, and old
+Toby's words came back to him--"The show has got to go on."
+
+Above the church steeple, the moon was battling its way through the
+clouds. His eyes travelled from heaven to earth. There was a spirit
+of unreality in it all. Something made him mistrust himself, his very
+existence. He longed to have done with dreams and speculation, to feel
+something tangible, warm, and real within his grasp. "I can't go on
+like this!" he cried. "I can't!" He turned from the window and walked
+hurriedly up and down the room; indoors or out, he found no rest. He
+threw himself in the armchair near the table, and sat buried in thought.
+
+Mandy came softly into the room. She was followed by Hasty, who carried
+a tray, laden with things that ought to have tempted any man. She
+motioned for Hasty to put the tray on the table, and then began
+arranging the dishes. Hasty stole to the window, and peeped out at the
+tempting flare of red fire.
+
+When Douglas discovered the presence of his two "faithfuls" he was
+touched with momentary contrition. He knew that he often neglected to
+chat with them now, and he made an effort to say something that might
+restore the old feeling of comradeship.
+
+"Have you had a hard day with the new gravel walk?" he asked
+Hasty, remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the
+Sunday-school-room.
+
+Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either to lie or tell the truth
+about the disposition she had made of his afternoon.
+
+"Jes' you come eat yo' supper," Mandy called to Douglas. "Don' yous
+worry your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob mine. He ain' goin' ter work
+'nuff to hurt hisself." For an instant she had been tempted to let the
+pastor know how Hasty had gone to the circus and seen nothing of Polly;
+but her motherly instinct won the day and she urged him to eat before
+disturbing him with her own anxieties. It was no use. He only toyed with
+his food; he was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone. She gave up
+trying to tempt his appetite, and began to lead up in a roundabout way
+to the things which she wished to ask.
+
+"Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot tonight," she said; Douglas
+did not answer. After a moment, she went on: "Hasty didn't work on no
+walk to-day." Douglas looked at her quizzically, while Hasty, convinced
+that for reasons of her own she was going to get him into trouble, was
+making frantic motions. "He done gone to de circus," she blurted out.
+Douglas's face became suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had touched an
+open wound.
+
+"I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John. I HAD to find out 'bout dat angel
+chile." There was a pause. She felt that he was waiting for her to go
+on.
+
+"She didn't done ride to-day."
+
+He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal. "And de gemmen
+in de show didn't tell nobody why--jes' speaked about de udder gal
+takin' her place."
+
+"Why DIDN'T she ride?" cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense.
+
+"Dat's what I don' know, sah." Mandy began to cry. It was the first time
+in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to give way to any
+such weakness. He walked up and down the room, uncertain what to do.
+
+Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about Mandy's
+shoulders.
+
+"Leab me alone, you nigga!" she exclaimed, trying to cover her tears
+with a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed from the
+room, followed by Hasty.
+
+The band was playing loudly; the din of the night performance was
+increasing. Douglas's nerves were strained to a point of breaking. He
+would not let himself go near the window. He stood by the side of the
+table, his fists clenched, and tried to beat back the impulse that was
+pulling him toward the door. Again and again he set his teeth.
+
+It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. Was she ill? Could she need
+him? Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if he went for
+her and brought her back with him? He recalled the hysterical note in
+her behaviour the day that she went away; how she had pleaded, only a
+few moments before Jim came, never to be separated from him. Had she
+really cared for Jim and for the old life? Why had she never written?
+Was she ashamed? Was she sorry for what she had done? What could it
+mean? He threw his hands above his head with a gesture of despair. A
+moment later, he passed out into the night.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+JIM was slow to-night. The big show was nearly over, yet many of the
+props used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded.
+
+He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of the wagons in the back lot,
+and the men were standing about idly, waiting for orders, when Barker
+came out of the main tent and called to him sharply:
+
+"Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to-night?"
+
+"Excuse for what?" Jim crossed slowly to Barker.
+
+"The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show top
+ain't loaded yet."
+
+"Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! Number thirty-eight carries the
+cook tent and the blacksmith has been tinkering with it all day. Ask HIM
+what shape it's in."
+
+"You're always stallin'," was Barker's sullen complaint. "It's the
+wagons, or the black-smiths, or anything but the truth. _I_ know what's
+the matter, all right."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Jim, sharply.
+
+"I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin' for that
+girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.'"
+
+"What have yer got to say about her?" Jim eyed him with a threatening
+look.
+
+"I got a-plenty," said Barker, as he turned to snap his whip at the
+small boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the rear edge
+of the "big top." "She's been about as much good as a sick cat since she
+come back. You saw her act last night."
+
+"Yes," answered Jim, doggedly.
+
+"Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at ALL this afternoon--said she was
+sick. And me with all them people inside what knowed her, waitin' ter
+see 'er."
+
+"Give her a little time," Jim pleaded. "She ain't rode for a year."
+
+"Time!" shouted Barker. "How much does she want? She's been back a month
+and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. There's only one thing
+for me to do."
+
+"What's that?" asked Jim, uneasily.
+
+"I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard."
+
+"Look here, Barker," and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked steadily
+at the other man; "you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, but if
+I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss won't make no difference."
+
+"You can't bluff me," shouted Barker.
+
+"I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer," said Jim, very quietly.
+
+"Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, that's
+all." He hurried into the ring.
+
+Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the ground
+with thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had
+tried to rouse her; it was no use. She had looked at him blankly. "If
+she would only complain," he said to himself. "If she would only get
+mad, anything, anything to wake her." But she did not complain. She
+went through her daily routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes
+wondered how Jim could talk so much about her work, but before she could
+answer the question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden
+and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with folded hands
+and wide, staring eyes, gazing into the distance.
+
+The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night. He had gone on
+hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the "let-down" in
+her work, and now the blow had fallen. How could he tell her?
+
+One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent. There was a moment's
+confusion, as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each other on their
+way to and from the ring, then the lot cleared again, and Polly came
+slowly from the dressing tent. She looked very different from the little
+girl whom Jim had led away from the parson's garden in a simple, white
+frock one month before. Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with
+her glittering attire. Her hair was knotted high on her head {a}nd
+intertwined with flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed scarcely
+able to support its burden. Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice
+were ablaze with white and coloured stones.
+
+"What's on, Jim?" she asked.
+
+"The 'Leap o' Death.' You got plenty a' time."
+
+Polly's mind went back to the girl who answered that call a year ago.
+Her spirit seemed very near to-night. The band stopped playing. Barker
+made his grandiloquent announcement about the wonderful act about to be
+seen, and her eyes wandered to the distant church steeple. The moonlight
+seemed to shun it to-night. It looked cold and grim and dark. She
+wondered whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship
+had become as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whirr of
+the great machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space with its
+girl occupant. These things were a part of the daily routine, part of
+the strange, vague dream through which she must stumble for the rest of
+her life.
+
+Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She had
+forgotten his presence.
+
+"Star gazin', Poll?" he asked at length, dreading to disturb her revery.
+
+"I guess I was, Jim." She turned to him with a little, forced smile. He
+longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke.
+
+"How yer feelin' to-night?"
+
+"I'm all right," she answered, cheerfully
+
+"Anythin' yer want?"
+
+"Want?" she turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so much that
+she wanted, that the mere mention of the word had opened a well of pain
+in her heart.
+
+"I mean, can I do anythin' for you?"
+
+"Oh, of course not." She remembered how little ANY ONE could do.
+
+"What is it, Poll?" he begged; but she only turned away and shook her
+head with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. "What made yer cut
+out the show to-day? Was it because you didn't want ter ride afore folks
+what knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?"
+
+"HIM?" Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. "You don't mean
+that he was----"
+
+"Oh, no," he answered, quickly, "of course not. Parsons don't come to
+places like this one. I was only figurin' that yer didn't want OTHER
+folks to see yer and to tell him how you was ridin'." She did not
+answer.
+
+"Was that it, Poll?" he urged.
+
+"I don't know." She stared into space.
+
+"Was it?"
+
+"I guess it was," she said, after a long time.
+
+"I knowed it," he cried. "I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer don't
+belong with us no more."
+
+"Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, too!"
+
+"Here, too?" He looked at her in astonishment. "Yer wasn't in HIS way,
+was yer, Poll?"
+
+"Yes, Jim." She saw his look of unbelief and continued hurriedly. "Oh,
+I tried not to be. I tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of a
+Bible about my way being his way and my people his people, but it isn't
+so, Jim. Your way is the way you are born, and your people are the
+people you are born with, and you can't change it, Jim, no matter how
+hard you try."
+
+"YOU was changin' it," he answered, savagely. "You was gettin' jes'
+like them people. It was me what took yer away and spoiled it all. You
+oughtn't to a come. What made yer, after yer said yer wouldn't?"
+
+She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind of the
+slow-witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult question.
+
+"Will yer answer me somethin' straight?" he asked.
+
+"Why, of course," she said as she met his gaze.
+
+"Do you love the parson, Poll?"
+
+She started.
+
+"Is that it?"
+
+Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her lips
+apart, then looked far into the distance.
+
+"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid--that's it." The little figure drooped, and
+she stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked at her
+helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head.
+
+"Ain't that hell?"
+
+It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a cooing
+babe, at her dead mother's side. He watched the tender, averted face.
+Things had turned out so differently from what he had planned.
+
+"And he didn't care about you--like that?" he asked, after a pause.
+
+"No, not in that way." She was anxious to defend the pastor from even
+the thought of such a thing. "He was good and kind always, but he didn't
+care THAT WAY. He's not like that."
+
+"I guess I'll have a talk with him," said Jim, and he turned to go.
+
+"Talk!" she cried.
+
+He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. It was the first time
+that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was
+stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing.
+
+"If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me again."
+
+Jim was perplexed.
+
+"I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. If you
+ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run away--really and
+truly away--and you'll never, never get me back."
+
+He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for
+the little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, toying
+nervously with the tiny fingers.
+
+"I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was just a
+tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how."
+
+She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on his
+great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her
+heart.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+THE "Leap of Death" implements were being carried from the ring, and Jim
+turned away to superintend their loading.
+
+Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main
+tent.
+
+Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere
+mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride
+to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of
+doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came
+from the ring.
+
+"Mr. Barker, please!"
+
+He turned upon her sharply.
+
+"Well, what is it NOW?"
+
+"I want to ask you to let me off again to-night." She spoke in a short,
+jerky, desperate way.
+
+"What?" he shrieked. "Not go into the ring, with all them people inside
+what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?"
+
+"That's it," she cried. "I can't! I can't!"
+
+"YER gettin' too tony!" Barker sneered. "That's the trouble with you.
+You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house.
+Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll
+be out all 'round."
+
+"Out?"
+
+"Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do
+you?"
+
+"I am not a 'dead one,'" she answered, excitedly. "I'm the best rider
+you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself."
+
+"That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer
+mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer."
+
+"She wouldn't," cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face was
+scarlet. The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with
+indignation. "I can ride as well as I EVER could, and I'll do it, too.
+I'll do it to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?" echoed Barker. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT," she declared, "and I
+won't."
+
+She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her own.
+
+He looked at her with momentary indecision. She WAS a good rider--the
+best since her mother, as he had often told her. He could see this meant
+an issue. He felt she would be on her mettle to-morrow, as far as her
+work was concerned, if he left her alone to-night.
+
+"All right," he said, sullenly. "Yer can stay off to-night. I got the
+crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money. I'll let Eloise do a turn
+on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me your old act."
+
+"I'll show you!" she cried. "I'll show you!"
+
+"Well, see that you do." He crossed into the ring.
+
+Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense. Jim came toward
+her from the direction of the wagons. He glanced at her uneasily.
+"What's he been a-sayin' ter you?"
+
+"He says I can't ride any more." Her lips closed tightly. She stared
+straight ahead of her. "He says I was no good to the people that took me
+in, and I'm no use here."
+
+"It's not so!" thundered Jim.
+
+"No; it's not!" she cried. "I'll show him, Jim! I'll show
+him--to-morrow!" She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught her
+firmly by the wrist.
+
+"Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT WAY." Her
+eyes met his, defiantly.
+
+"What's the difference? What's the difference?" She wrenched her wrist
+quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing hysterically.
+
+"And I brung her back to it," mumbled Jim as he turned to give orders to
+the property men.
+
+Most of the "first-half props" were loaded, and some of the men were
+asleep under the wagons. The lot was clear. Suddenly he felt some one
+approaching from the back of the enclosure. He turned and found himself
+face to face with the stern, solitary figure of the pastor, wrapped
+in his long, black cloak. The moonlight slipped through a rift in the
+clouds, and fell in a circle around them.
+
+"What made you come here?" was all Jim said.
+
+"I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she might be
+ill."
+
+"What's that to you?"
+
+"She ISN'T ill?" Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the gruffness
+in the big fellow's voice.
+
+"She's all right," Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily from one
+foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning gaze.
+
+"And she's happy? she's content?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"I'm glad," said Douglas, dully. He tried to think of some way to
+prolong their talk. "I've never heard from her, you know."
+
+"Us folks don't get much time to write." Jim turned away and began
+tinkering with one of the wagons.
+
+Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and again,
+fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was doing, but
+to no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed impossible that he
+should go away so unsatisfied. He crossed to Jim and came determinedly
+to the point.
+
+"Can't I see her, Jim?"
+
+"It's agin the rules." He did not turn.
+
+There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the lot.
+
+"Wait a minute," called Jim, as though the words had been wrung from
+him. The pastor came back with a question in his eyes.
+
+"I lied to you."
+
+"She's NOT well, then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being happy."
+
+"She isn't?" There was a note of unconscious exultation in his voice.
+
+"No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU."
+
+"Then, why did she leave me?"
+
+"I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at first. Somethin' must
+a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know about."
+
+"We WILL know about it, Jim. Where is she?" His quick eye searched the
+lot. His voice had regained it's old command. He felt that he could
+conquer worlds.
+
+"You can't do no good that way," answered Jim. "She don't want ter see
+you again."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even talked to
+you about her."
+
+"You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?"
+
+"She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait around out here with me. I'll
+let you know in time." He led the way through a narrow passage between
+the wagons.
+
+Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when Deacon Elverson's small,
+round head slipped cautiously around the corner of the dressing tent.
+The little deacon glanced exultantly about him. He was monarch of all he
+surveyed. It was very thrilling to stand here, on this forbidden ground,
+smelling the saw-dust, gazing at the big red wagons, studying the
+unprotected circus properties, and listening to the lightening tempo of
+the band.
+
+"Did you see him?" shouted Strong, who had followed closely upon
+Elverson's heels.
+
+The little deacon started. Strong was certainly a disturbing factor at
+times.
+
+"Yes, I--I saw him."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"He--he--didn't see HER."
+
+"What DID he do?" Strong was beside himself with impatience.
+
+"He--he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way." Elverson
+nodded toward the wagons.
+
+"I guess he ain't gone far," sneered Strong. "He come over to this lot
+to see her, and he ain't goin' ter give up till he does it. You wait
+here; I'll take a look round." He went quickly in the direction of the
+wagons.
+
+Elverson needed no second invitation to wait. He was congratulating
+himself upon his good fortune, when he all but collided with a flying
+apparition, vanishing in the direction of the main tent. Sophisticated
+eyes would have seen only a rather stout acrobat clad in pink tights;
+but Elverson was not sophisticated, and he teetered after the flitting
+angel, even unto the forbidden portals of the "big top."
+
+He was peeping through the curtains which had fallen behind her, and was
+getting his first glimpse of the great, sawdust world beyond, when one
+of the clowns dashed from the dressing tent on his way to the ring.
+
+The clown was late. He saw the limp coat tails of the deacon, who was
+three-quarters in the tent. Here was a chance to make a funny entrance.
+He grabbed the unsuspecting little man from the rear. The terrified
+deacon struck out blindly in all directions, his black arms and legs
+moving like centipede, but the clown held him firmly by the back and
+thrust him, head foremost, into the tent.
+
+Strong returned almost immediately from his unsuccessful search for the
+pastor. He looked about the lot for Elverson.
+
+"Hey, there, Elverson!" he called lustily. There was no response.
+
+"Now where's he got to," grumbled Strong. He disappeared quickly around
+the corner of the dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp lookout for
+Douglas.
+
+Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, spitting sawdust and
+much discomfited by the laughing performers who followed him. His knees
+almost gave way beneath him when Barker came out of the ring, snapping
+his long, black whip.
+
+"Get out of here, you bloke!" roared Barker. And Elverson "got."
+
+No one had remembered to tell the groom that Polly was not to ride
+to-night. So Bingo was brought out as usual, when their "turn"
+approached.
+
+"Take him back, Tom," Polly called from the entrance, when she learned
+that Bingo was waiting, "and bring Barbarian. I'm not going on to-night.
+Eloise is going to ride in my place."
+
+This was the second time to-day that Bingo had been led away without
+going into the ring. Something in his big, wondering eyes made Polly
+follow him and apologise. He was very proud, was Bingo, and very
+conscientious. He felt uneasy when he saw the other horses going to
+their work without him.
+
+"Never mind, Bingo," she said, patting his great, arched neck, "we'll
+show 'em to-morrow." He rubbed his satiny nose against her cheek. "We'll
+make them SIT UP again. Barker says our act's no good--that I've let
+down. But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. I've not been fair to you. I'll
+give you a chance to-morrow. You wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo!
+Never again!" She watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as
+he nipped the attendant on the arm. He was still irritated at not going
+into the ring.
+
+Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her street
+clothes. The wagons would soon be moving away. For a moment she glanced
+at the dark church steeple, then she turned to go inside the tent. A
+deep, familiar voice stopped her.
+
+"Polly!"
+
+She turned quickly. She could not answer. Douglas came toward her. He
+gazed at her in amazement. She drew her cape about her slightly clad
+figure. She seemed older to him, more unapproachable with her hair
+heaped high and sparkling with jewels. Her bodice of satin and lace
+shimmered through the opening of her cape. The moonlight lent mystery
+and indecision to her betinselled attire. The band was playing the
+andante for the balancing act.
+
+She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound came
+from them. She and the pastor looked at each other strangely, like
+spirits newly met from far-apart worlds. She, too, thought her companion
+changed. He was older, the circles beneath his eyes were deeper, the
+look in their depths more grave.
+
+"We were such close neighbours to-day, I--I rather thought you'd call,"
+he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying--it did not matter--he
+was there with her.
+
+"When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling."
+
+"That's why I've come to call on you." They might have been sheppherd
+and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which their
+words came.
+
+"You're all right?" he went on. "You're happy?"
+
+"Yes, very," she said. Her eyes were downcast.
+
+He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white face
+belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her?
+
+"Jim said you might not want to see me."
+
+She started.
+
+"Has Jim been talking to you?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you left
+that you'd never change--toward me. Have you, Poll?" He studied her,
+anxiously.
+
+"Why, no, of course not," she said, evasively.
+
+"And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?"
+
+"Yes, of course." She was growing more and more uneasy. She glanced
+about for a way of escape.
+
+"Why did you leave me as you did?"
+
+"I told you then." She tried to cross toward the dressing tent.
+
+He stepped quickly in front of her.
+
+"You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy."
+
+She was growing desperate. She felt she must get away, anywhere,
+anywhere.
+
+He seized her small wrists and forced her to look at him.
+
+"And _I_ am not happy without YOU, and I never, NEVER can be." The
+floodgates were open, his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her eagerly.
+
+"Oh, you mustn't," she begged. "You MUSTN'T."
+
+"You've grown so close," he cried. "So close!" She struggled to be free.
+He did not heed her. "You know--you must know what I mean." He drew her
+toward him and forced her into his arms. "You're more precious to me
+than all else on this earth."
+
+For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on her face. He felt her
+growing limp and lifeless in his arms. A doubt crossed his mind. "If
+I am wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you honestly care for all
+this," he glanced about at the tents, "more than for any life that I can
+give you, I shan't interfere. You'll be going on your way in an hour.
+I'll say good-bye and God bless you; but if you do care for me, Polly,"
+he was pleading now, "if you're NOT happy here--won't you come back to
+me? Won't you, Polly?"
+
+She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send him away. She stood
+irresolute. The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her.
+
+"So! You're HERE, are you?"
+
+"Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here," answered the pastor, as he turned to
+meet the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly from behind
+the dressing tent.
+
+"As for you, miss," continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward Polly,
+"I might have known how you'd keep your part of the bargain."
+
+"Bargain?" echoed Douglas. "What bargain?"
+
+"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I didn't,
+truly." She hardly knew what she was saying.
+
+"What bargain?" demanded Douglas sternly.
+
+"She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each other
+agin," roared Strong. "If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to keep on with
+this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so easy."
+
+"So! That's it!" cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He recalled
+everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her tears. "It was
+you who drove that child back to this." He glanced at Polly. The narrow
+shoulders were bent forward. The nervous little fingers were clasping
+and unclasping each other. Never before had she seemed so small and
+helpless.
+
+"Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
+
+"It would have done no good," she sobbed. "Oh, why--why won't you leave
+me alone?"
+
+"It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he to send
+you back to this?"
+
+"I had every right," said Strong, stubbornly.
+
+"What?" cried Douglas.
+
+"It was my duty."
+
+"Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!"
+
+"I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson."
+
+"I'm NOT your parson any longer," declared Douglas. He faced Strong
+squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to him,
+begging and beseeching.
+
+"Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" shouted Strong.
+
+"I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow-minded congregation
+before, because I believed you needed me. But now this girl needs me
+more. She needs me to protect her from just such injustice as yours."
+
+"You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you."
+
+"I can do that WITHOUT your advice."
+
+"Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl
+a-hangin' 'round your neck."
+
+"He's right," cried Polly. "You couldn't." She clung to the pastor in
+terrified entreaty. "You COULDN'T get another church. They'd never,
+never forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let me go! you've GOT to!"
+
+"Listen, Polly." He drew her toward him. "God is greater than any church
+or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE--HIS work."
+
+"You'll soon find out about that," thundered Strong.
+
+"So I will," answered Douglas, with his head thrown high. "This child
+has opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader, deeper
+humanity; she and I will find the way together."
+
+"It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that." Strong turned to go.
+
+"I'm not looking for the easy way!" Douglas called after him, then he
+turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had slipped from his
+side to follow the deacon.
+
+"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!" she pleaded. "You won't go away
+like that. He'll be all right if you'll only wait. I'm NOT coming back.
+I'm not--honestly. I'm going on with the show, to-night, and I'm going
+this time FOREVER."
+
+"You are going to stay here with me," cried Douglas.
+
+"No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, and I won't be to blame for
+your unhappiness." She faced him firmly now. "I don't belong to your
+world, and I don't want to try any more. I'm what he called me--I'm a
+circus riding girl. I was born in the circus, and I'll never change.
+That's my work--riding, and it's yours to preach. You must do your work,
+and I'LL do MINE."
+
+She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already waiting
+at the entrance.
+
+"Eloise!" She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound of
+Barker's voice.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," he called. "Although we are obliged to announce
+that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear to-night, we offer
+you in her place an able substitute, Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black,
+untamed horse, Barbarian."
+
+Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount.
+
+"No! No!" cried Polly.
+
+The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice.
+
+"Polly!"
+
+"Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!"
+
+"You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn."
+
+"So much the better!" She seized the bridle from the frightened girl's
+hand.
+
+"Polly!" shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance.
+
+"I must! I will!"
+
+She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one step to
+follow her.
+
+"You'd better let her alone and get out o' here," said Strong. His voice
+was like a firebrand to Douglas. He turned upon him, white with rage.
+
+"You drove her to this." His fists were clenched. He drew back to
+strike.
+
+Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the uplifted arm.
+
+"Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job." The pastor lowered his
+arm, but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's face.
+
+"Where's Poll?" asked Jim.
+
+"In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning his
+head. He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing hard.
+
+"What?" cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about and saw Eloise. He guessed
+the truth. A few quick strides brought him to the entrance curtains. He
+threw them back and looked into the ring.
+
+"My God! Why don't Barker stop her?"
+
+"What is it?" called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror at
+Jim's behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed.
+
+"She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!"
+
+Douglas crossed to his side and looked.
+
+Polly was springing onto the back of Barbarian. He was a poorly trained
+horse, used by the other girl for more showy, but less dangerous feats
+than Polly's.
+
+"She's goin' through her regular turn with him, she's tryin' ter break
+her neck," said Jim. "She wants ter do it. It's your fault!" he cried,
+turning upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes. He was half insane, he cared
+little whom he wounded.
+
+"Why can't we stop her?" cried Douglas, unable to endure the strain. He
+took one step inside the entrance.
+
+"No, no; not that!" Jim dragged him back roughly. "If she sees you now,
+it will be the end." They watched in silence. "She's over the first
+part," Jim whispered, at last.
+
+Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he watched the scene inside
+the ring. Eloise stood at the pastor's side, horror-stricken at Polly's
+reckless behaviour. She knew Barbarian. It was easy to guess the end.
+
+"She's comin' to the hoops," Jim whispered, hoarsely.
+
+"Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him," the other girl
+said.
+
+Polly made the first leap toward the hoops. The horse was not at fault;
+it was Polly. She plunged wildly, the audience started. She caught her
+footing with an effort. One, two, three hoops were passed. She threw
+herself across the back of the horse and hung, head downward, as he
+galloped around the ring. The band was playing loudly, the people were
+cheering. She rose to meet the last two hoops.
+
+"She's swayin'," Jim shrieked in agony. "She's goin' to fall." He covered
+his face with his hands.
+
+Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side. She mounted and fell again.
+She rose and staggered in pursuit.
+
+"I can't bear it," groaned Douglas. He rushed into the ring, unconscious
+of the thousands of eyes bent upon his black, ministerial garb, and
+caught the slip of a girl in his arms just as she was about to sink
+fainting beneath the horse's hoofs.
+
+Barker brought the performance to a halt with a crack of his whip. The
+audience stood on tiptoe. White-faced clowns and gaily attired acrobats
+crowded around Polly and the pastor.
+
+Douglas did not see them. He had come into his own.
+
+"He's bringin' her out," whispered Eloise, who still watched at the
+entrance. Jim dared not look up, his head was still in his hands.
+
+"Is it over?" he groaned.
+
+"I don't know. I can't tell yet." She stepped aside as Douglas came out
+of the tent, followed by a swarm of performers. He knelt on the soft
+grass and rested Polly's head upon his knee. The others pressed about
+them. It seemed to Douglas that he waited hours; then her white lids
+quivered and opened and the colour crept back to her lips.
+
+"It's all right, Jim!" called one of the men from the crowd. "She's only
+fainted." The big fellow had waited in his tracks for the verdict.
+
+Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson--a thrill shot through
+his veins.
+
+"It was no use, was it?" She shook her head with a sad little smile. He
+knew that she was thinking of her failure to get out of his way.
+
+"That's because I need you so much, Polly, that God won't let you go
+away from me." He drew her nearer to him, and the warm blood that shot
+to her cheeks brought back her strength. She rose unsteadily, and looked
+about her. Jim came toward her, white and trembling.
+
+"All right, Poll?"
+
+"Oh, Muvver Jim!" She threw herself into his arms and clung to him,
+sobbing weakly.
+
+No one could ever remember just how the audience left the big top that
+night, and even Barker had no clear idea of how Jim took down the tents,
+loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan on its way.
+
+When the last wagon was beginning to climb the long, winding road of
+the moon-lit hill, Jim turned to Polly, who stood near the side of the
+deserted ring. His eyes travelled from her to the parson, who waited
+near her. She was in her street clothes now, the little brown Quakerish
+dress which she had chosen to wear so much since her return from the
+parsonage.
+
+"I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time," he said, and he placed
+her hand in that of the parson.
+
+"Good-bye, Muvver Jim," faltered Polly.
+
+He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. A mother's spirit
+breathed through his kiss.
+
+"I'm glad it's like this," he said, then turned away and followed the
+long, dotted line of winding lights disappearing slowly over the hill.
+
+Her eyes travelled after him.
+
+Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side.
+
+"I belong with them," she said, still gazing after Jim and the wagons.
+
+"You belong with me," he answered in a firm, grave voice, and something
+in the deep, sure tones told her that he was speaking the truth. She
+lifted one trembling hand to his shoulder, and looked up into his face.
+
+"Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die."
+
+He drew her into his arms.
+
+"The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee and
+me."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo
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+
+
+POLLY OF THE CIRCUS BY MARGARET MAYO
+
+
+
+
+To My "KLEINE MUTTER"
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+The band of the "Great American Circus" was playing noisily.  The
+performance was in full swing.
+
+Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing tent sat a young,
+wistful-faced girl, chin in hand, unheeding the chatter of the
+women about her or the picturesque disarray of the surrounding
+objects.  Her eyes had been so long accustomed to the glitter and
+tinsel of circus fineries that she saw nothing unusual in a
+picture that might have held a painter spellbound.
+
+Circling the inside of the tent and forming a double line down
+the centre were partially unpacked trunks belching forth impudent
+masses of satins, laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, and
+paste jewels.  The scent of moist earth mingled oddly with the
+perfumed odours of the garments heaped on the grass.  Here and
+there high circles of lights threw a strong, steady glare upon
+the half-clad figure of a robust acrobat, or the thin, drooping
+shoulders of a less stalwart sister.  Temporary ropes stretched
+from one pole to another, were laden with bright- coloured
+stockings, gaudy, spangled gowns, or dusty street clothes,
+discarded by the performers before slipping into their circus
+attire.  There were no nails or hooks, so hats and veils were
+pinned to the canvas walls.
+
+The furniture was limited to one camp chair in front of each
+trunk, the till of which served as a tray for the paints, powders
+and other essentials of "make-up."
+
+A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, so that the
+performers might wash the delicately shaded tights, handkerchiefs
+and other small articles not to be entrusted to the slow,
+careless process of the village laundry.  Some of these had been
+washed to-night and hung to dry on the lines between the dusty
+street garments.
+
+Women whose "turns" came late sat about half-clothed reading,
+crocheting or sewing, while others added pencilled eyebrows,
+powder or rouge to their already exaggerated "make-ups."  Here
+and there a child was putting her sawdust baby to sleep in the
+till of her trunk, before beginning her part in the evening's
+entertainment.  Young and old went about their duties with a
+systematic, business-like air, and even the little knot of
+excited women near Polly--it seemed that one of the men had upset
+a circus tradition--kept a sharp lookout for their "turns."
+
+"What do you think about it, Polly?" asked a handsome brunette,
+as she surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer.
+
+"About what?" asked Polly vacantly.
+
+"Leave Poll alone; she's in one of her trances!" called a
+motherly, good-natured woman whose trunk stood next to Polly's,
+and whose business was to support a son and three daughters upon
+stalwart shoulders, both figuratively and literally.
+
+"Well, _I_ ain't in any trance," answered the dark girl, "and _I_
+think it's pretty tough for him to take up with a rank outsider,
+and expect us to warm up to her as though he'd married one of our
+own folks."  She tossed her head, the pride of class distinction
+welling high in her ample bosom.
+
+"He ain't asking us to warm up to her," contradicted Mademoiselle
+Eloise, a pale, light- haired sprite, who had arrived late and
+was making undignified efforts to get out of her clothes by way
+of her head.  She was Polly's understudy and next in line for the
+star place in the bill.
+
+"Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of Death' stunt, ain't
+he?" continued the brunette.  " 'Course that ain't a regular
+circus act," she added, somewhat mollified, "and so far she's had
+to dress with the 'freaks,' but the next thing we know, he'll be
+ringin' her in on a regular stunt and be puttin' her in to dress
+with US."
+
+"No danger of that," sneered the blonde; "Barker is too old a
+stager to mix up his sheep and his goats."
+
+Polly had again lost the thread of the conversation.  Her mind
+had gone roving to the night when the frightened girl about whom
+they were talking had made her first appearance in the circus
+lot, clinging timidly to the hand of the man who had just made
+her his wife.  Her eyes had met Polly's, with a look of appeal
+that had gone straight to the child's simple heart.
+
+A few nights later the newcomer had allowed herself to be
+strapped into the cumbersome "Leap of Death" machine which hurled
+itself through space at each performance, and flung itself down
+with force enough to break the neck of any unskilled rider. 
+Courage and steady nerve were the requisites for the job, so the
+manager had said; but any physician would have told him that only
+a trained acrobat could long endure the nervous strain, the
+muscular tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal.
+
+What matter? The few dollars earned in this way would mean a
+great deal to the mother, whom the girl's marriage had left
+desolate.
+
+Polly had looked on hungrily the night that the mother had taken
+the daughter in her arms to say farewell in the little country
+town where the circus had played before her marriage.  She could
+remember no woman's arms about HER, for it was fourteen years
+since tender hands had carried her mother from the performers'
+tent into the moonlit lot to die.  The baby was so used to seeing
+"Mumsie" throw herself wearily on the ground after coming out of
+the "big top" exhausted, that she crept to the woman's side as
+usual that night, and gazed laughingly into the sightless eyes,
+gurgling and prattling and stroking the unresponsive face.  There 
+were tears from those who watched, but no word was spoken.
+
+Clown Toby and the big "boss canvas-man" Jim had always taken
+turns amusing and guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in
+the ring.  So Toby now carried the babe to another side of the
+lot, and Jim bore the lifeless body of the mother to the distant
+ticket-wagon, now closed for the night, and laid it upon the
+seller's cot.
+
+"It's allus like this in the end," he murmured, as he drew a
+piece of canvas over the white face and turned away to give
+orders to the men who were beginning to load the "props" used
+earlier in the performance.
+
+When the show moved on that night it was Jim's strong arms that
+lifted the mite of a Polly close to his stalwart heart, and
+climbed with her to the high seat on the head wagon.  Uncle Toby
+was entrusted with the brown satchel in which the mother had
+always carried Polly's scanty wardrobe.  It seemed to these two
+men that the eyes of the woman were fixed steadily upon them.
+
+Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-natured fellow, at
+first mumbled something about the kid being "excess baggage," but
+his objections were only half-hearted, for like the others, he
+was already under the hypnotic spell of the baby's round,
+confiding eyes, and he eventually contented himself with an
+occasional reprimand to Toby, who was now sometimes late on his
+cues.  Polly wondered, at these times, why the old man's stories
+were so suddenly cut short just as she was so "comfy" in the soft
+grass at his feet.  The boys who used to "look sharp" because of
+their boss at loading time, now learned that they might loiter so
+long as "Muvver Jim" was "hikin' it round for the kid."  It was
+Polly who had dubbed big Jim "Muvver," and the sobriquet had
+stuck to him in spite of his six feet two, and shoulders that an
+athlete might have envied.  Little by little, Toby grew more
+stooped and small lines of anxiety crept into the brownish
+circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips that had once shut so firmly
+became tender and tremulous, but neither of the men would
+willingly have gone back to the old emptiness.
+
+It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly first managed
+to climb up on the pole of an unhitched wagon and from there to
+the back of a friendly, Shetland pony.  Jim and Toby had been
+"neglectin' her eddication" they declared, and from that time on,
+the blood of Polly's ancestors was given full encouragement.
+
+Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of adding the kid to the
+daily parade.  She made her first appearance in the streets upon
+something very like a Newfoundland dog, guarded from the rear by
+Jim, and from the fore by a white-faced clown who was thought to
+be all the funnier because he twisted his neck so much.
+
+From the street parade to Polly's first appearance in the "big
+top," had seemed a short while to Jim and Toby.  They were proud
+to see her circling the ring in bright colours and to hear the
+cheers of the people, but a sense of loss was upon them.
+
+"I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who now took upon
+himself the credit of Polly's triumph.
+
+And what a triumph it was!
+
+Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done
+on the "concert boards."  She swayed gracefully with the music. 
+Her tiny sandals twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and
+then upon the other.
+
+Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim
+left the loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he
+hovered near the entrance, anxious and breathless.  The
+performers crowded around the girl with outstretched hands and
+congratulations, as she came out of the ring to cheers and
+applause.
+
+But Big Jim stood apart.  He was thinking of the buttons that his
+clumsy fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too
+small for them and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and
+Toby was remembering the little shoes that had once needed to be
+laced in the cold, dark mornings, and the strings that were
+always snapping.
+
+Something had gone.
+
+They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for
+everything we lose we gain something; they were simple souls,
+these two, they could only feel.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to
+the chatter about the "Leap of Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot
+outside, opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had
+bought for her that day.  He was as blind to the picturesque
+outdoor life as she to her indoor surroundings, for he, too, had
+been with the circus since his earliest recollection.
+
+The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of
+tents and wagons.  The great, red property vans were waiting to
+be loaded with the costumes and tackle which were constantly
+being brought from the "big top," where the evening performance
+was now going on.  The gay striped curtains at the rear of the
+tent were looped back to give air to the panting musicians, who
+sat just inside.  Through the opening, a glimpse of the audience
+might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and shifting uneasily. 
+Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing "top," with the
+women performers stowed away in one end, the "ring horses" in the
+centre, and the men performers in the other end.
+
+A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing
+tent, to shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the
+back lot for a glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring.
+
+Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and
+floated in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the
+other side to make haste to get their places, forget their cares,
+and be children again.
+
+Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red
+fire shot into the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut
+"butchers," the popcorn boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the
+exhortations of the side-show "spieler," whose flying banners
+bore the painted reproductions of his "freaks."  Here and there
+stood unhitched chariots, half filled trunks, trapeze tackle,
+paper hoops, stake pullers or other "properties" necessary to the
+show.
+
+Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and
+lanterns gave light for the loading of the wagons.
+
+There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the
+dressing tent to the "big top," as gaily decked men, women and
+animals came or went.
+
+Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn
+to be dressed as lions or bears.  The wise old goose, with his
+modest grey mate, pecked at the green grass or turned his head
+from side to side, watching the singing clown, who rolled up the
+painted carcass and long neck of the imitation giraffe from which
+two property men had just slipped, their legs still encased in
+stripes.
+
+Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in
+the hope of some day getting into the performers' ring.  Property
+men stole a minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they
+waited for more tackle to load in the wagons.  Children of the
+performers were swinging on the tent ropes, chattering monkeys
+sat astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting their entrance to the
+ring.  The shrieks of the hyenas in the distant animal tent, the
+roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the elephants mingled
+with the incessant clamour of the band.   And back of all this,
+pointing upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire,
+white and majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit
+hills, that encircled the whole lurid picture.  Jim's eyes turned
+absently toward the church as he sat fumbling with the lock of
+the little brown satchel.
+
+He had gone from store to store in the various towns where they
+had played looking for something to inspire wonder in the heart
+of a miss, newly arrived at her sixteenth year.  Only the
+desperation of a last moment had forced him to decide upon the
+imitation alligator bag, which he now held in his hand.
+
+It looked small and mean to him as the moment of presentation
+approached, and he was glad that the saleswoman in the little
+country store had suggested the addition of ribbons and laces,
+which he now drew from the pocket of his corduroys.  He placed
+his red and blue treasures very carefully in the bottom of the
+satchel, and remembered with regret the strand of coral beads
+which he had so nearly bought to go with them.
+
+He opened the large property trunk by his side, and took from it
+a laundry box, which held a little tan coat, that was to be
+Toby's contribution to the birthday surprise.  He was big-
+hearted enough to be glad that Toby's gift seemed finer and more
+useful than his.
+
+It was only when the "Leap of Death" act preceding Polly's turn
+was announced, that the big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on
+the satchel and coat, and hid them away in the big property
+trunk.  She would be out in a minute, and these wonders were not
+to be revealed to her until the close of the night's performance.
+
+Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon it, feeling like a
+criminal because he was hiding something from Polly.
+
+His consciousness of guilt was increased as he recalled how often
+she had forbidden Toby and himself to rush into reckless
+extravagances for her sake, and how she had been more nearly
+angry than he had ever seen her, when they had put their month's
+salaries together to buy her the spangled dress for her first
+appearance.  It had taken a great many apologies and promises as
+to their future behaviour to calm her, and now they had again
+disobeyed her.  It would be a great relief when to-night's ordeal
+was over.
+
+Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from the dressing tent and
+stopped to gaze at the nearby church steeple.  The incongruity of
+the slang, that soon came from her delicately formed lips, was
+lost upon him as she turned her eyes toward him.
+
+"Say, Jim," she said, with a Western drawl, "them's a funny lot
+of guys what goes to them church places, ain't they?"
+
+"Most everybody has got some kind of a bug," Jim assented; "I
+guess they don't do much harm."
+
+" 'Member the time you took me into one of them places to get me
+out a the rain, the Sunday our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch
+WE butted into wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers no cause for worry
+with that show a' theirn, would they, Jim?" She looked at him
+with withering disgust.  "Say, wasn't that the punkiest stunt
+that fellow in black was doin' on the platform? You said Joe was
+only ten minutes gettin' the tire onto our wheel, but say, you
+take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another ten minutes as
+long as that one, I'd be too old to go on a-ridin'."
+
+Jim " 'lowed" some church shows might be better than "that un,"
+but Polly said he could have her end of the bet, and summed up by
+declaring it no wonder that the yaps in these towns was daffy
+about circuses, if they didn't have nothin' better an' church
+shows to go to.
+
+One of the grooms was entering the lot with Polly's horse.  She
+stooped to tighten one of her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw
+her sway slightly and put one hand to her head.  He looked at her
+sharply, remembering her faintness in the parade that morning.
+
+"You ain't feeling right," he said uneasily.
+
+"You just bet I am," Polly answered with an independent toss of
+her head.  "This is the night we're goin' to make them rubes in
+there sit up, ain't it, Bingo?" she added, placing one arm
+affectionately about the neck of the big, white horse that stood
+waiting near the entrance.
+
+"You bin ridin' too reckless lately," said Jim, sternly, as he
+followed her.  "I don't like it.  There ain't no need of your
+puttin' in all them extra stunts.  Your act is good enough
+without 'em.  Nobody else ever done 'em, an' nobody'd miss 'em if
+you left 'em out."
+
+Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice.  The music was
+swelling for her entrance.
+
+"You ain't my MOTHER, Jim, you're my GRANDmother," she taunted;
+and, with a crack of her whip she was away on Bingo's back.
+
+"It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into her," Jim
+mumbled as he turned away, still seeing the flash in the
+departing girl's eyes.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+Polly and Bingo always made the audience "sit up" when they swept
+into the ring.  She was so young, so gaily clad, so light and
+joyous in all her poses.  She seemed scarcely to touch the back
+of the white horse, as they dashed round the ring in the glare of
+the tent lights.  The other performers went through their work
+mechanically while Polly rode, for they knew the audience was
+watching her only.
+
+As for Polly, her work had never lost its first interest.  Jim
+may have been right when he said that the spirit of the dead
+mother had got into her; but it must have been an unsatisfied
+spirit, unable to fulfil its ambition in the body that once held
+it, for it sometimes played strange pranks with Polly.  To-night,
+her eyes shone and her lips were parted in anticipation, as she
+leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers of the wheel of
+silken ribbons held by Barker in the centre of the ring, and by
+Toby and the "tumblers" on the edge of the bank.
+
+With each change of her act, the audience cheered and frantically
+applauded.  The band played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the
+end of her turn was coming.  The "tumblers" arranged themselves
+around the ring with paper hoops; Bingo was fairly racing.  She
+went through the first hoop with a crash of tearing paper and
+cheers from the audience.
+
+"Heigh, Bingo!" she shouted, as she bent her knees to make ready
+for the final leap.
+
+Bingo's neck was stretched.  He had never gone so fast before. 
+Barker looked uneasy.  Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed
+tricks.  Jim watched anxiously from the entrance.
+
+The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken.  The attendant
+turned his eyes to glance at the oncoming girl; the hoop shifted
+slightly in his clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from
+Bingo's back, trusting to her first calculation.  Her forehead
+struck the edge of the hoop.  She clutched wildly at the air. 
+Bingo galloped on, and she fell to the ground, striking her head
+against the iron-bound stake at the edge of the ring.
+
+Everything stopped.  There was a gasp of horror; the musicians
+dropped their instruments; Bingo halted and looked back uneasily;
+she lay unconscious and seemingly lifeless.
+
+A great cry went up in the tent.  Panic- stricken, men, women and
+children began to clamber down from their seats, while others
+nearest the ground attempted to jump into the ring.  Barker,
+still grasping his long whip, rushed to the girl's side, and
+shouted wildly to Toby:
+
+"Say something, you.  Get 'em back!"
+
+Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, his features worked
+convulsively, but he could not speak.  His grief was so
+grotesque, that the few who saw him laughed hysterically.  He
+could not even go to Polly, his feet seemed pinned to the earth.
+
+Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the audience.  He
+lifted the limp form tenderly, and kneeling in the ring held her
+bruised head in his hands.
+
+"Can't you get a doctor!" he shouted desperately to Barker.
+
+"Here's the doctor!" some one called; and a stranger came toward
+them.  He bent over the seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on
+the tiny wrist, his ear to the heart.
+
+"Well, sir?" Jim faltered, for he had caught the puzzled look in
+the doctor's eyes as his deft hand pressed the cruelly wounded
+head.
+
+"I can't tell just yet," said the doctor.  "She must be taken
+away."
+
+"Where can we take her?" asked Jim, a look of terror in his
+great, troubled eyes.
+
+"The parsonage is the nearest house," said the doctor.  "I am
+sure the pastor will be glad to have her there until we can find
+out how badly she is hurt."
+
+In an instant Barker was back in the centre of the ring.  He
+announced that Polly's injuries were slight, called the attention
+of the audience to the wonderful concert to take place, and bade
+them make ready for the thrilling chariot race which would end
+the show.
+
+Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden and staggered
+out of the tent, while the band played furiously and the people
+fell back into their seats.  The Roman chariots thundered and
+clattered around the outside of the ring, the audience cheered
+the winner of the race, and for the moment Polly was forgotten.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+THE blare of the circus band had been a sore temptation to Mandy
+Jones all afternoon and evening.  Again and again it had dragged
+her from her work to the study window, from which she could see
+the wonders so tantalisingly near.  Mandy was housekeeper for the
+Rev.  John Douglas, but the unwashed supper dishes did not
+trouble her, as she watched the lumbering elephants, the restless
+lions, the long-necked giraffes and the striped zebras, that came
+and went in the nearby circus lot.  And yet, in spite of her own
+curiosity, she could not forgive her vagrant "worse half," Hasty,
+who had been lured from duty early in the day.  She had once
+dubbed him Hasty, in a spirit of derision, and the name had clung
+to him.  The sarcasm seemed doubly appropriate to-night, for he
+had been away since ten that morning, and it was now past nine.
+
+The young pastor for a time had enjoyed Mandy's tirades against
+her husband, but when she began calling shrilly out of the window
+to chance acquaintances for news of him, he slipped quietly into
+the next room to finish to-morrow's sermon.  Mandy renewed her
+operations at the window with increased vigour when the pastor
+had gone.  She was barely saved from pitching head foremost into
+the lot, by the timely arrival of Deacon Strong's daughter, who
+managed, with difficulty, to connect the excited woman's feet
+with the floor.
+
+"Foh de Lor' sake!" Mandy gasped, as she stood panting for breath
+and blinking at the pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; "I was suah
+most gone dat time."  Then followed another outburst against the
+delinquent Hasty.
+
+But the deacon's daughter did not hear; her eyes were already
+wandering anxiously to the lights and the tinsel of the little
+world beyond the window.
+
+This was not the first time to-day that Mandy had found herself
+talking to space.  There had been a steady stream of callers at
+the parsonage since eleven that morning, but she had long ago
+confided to the pastor that she suspected their reasons.
+
+"Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors," she said, "and
+a-askin' why you don' stop de circus from a-showin' nex' to de
+church and den a-cranin' afar necks out de winder, till I can't
+get no housework done."
+
+"That's only human nature," Douglas had answered with a laugh;
+but Mandy had declared that she knew another name for it, and had
+mumbled something about "hypocritters," as she seized her broom
+and began to sweep imaginary tracks from in front of the door.
+
+Many times she had made up her mind to let the next caller know
+just what she thought of "hypocritters," but her determination
+was usually weakened by her still greater desire to excite
+increased wonder in the faces of her visitors.
+
+Divided between these two inclinations, she gazed at Julia now;
+the shining eyes of the deacon's daughter conquered, and she
+launched forth into an eager description of how she had just seen
+a "wondeful striped anamule" with a "pow'ful long neck walk right
+out of the tent," and how he had "come apart afore her very
+eyes," and two men had slipped "right out a' his insides."  Mandy
+was so carried away by her own eloquence and so busy showing
+Julia the sights beyond the window, that she did not hear Miss
+Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who entered, followed by the
+Widow Willoughby dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the
+hand.
+
+The women were protesting because their choir practice of "What
+Shall the Harvest Be?" had been interrupted by the unrequested
+acompaniment{sic} of the "hoochie coochie" from the nearby circus
+band.
+
+"It's scandalous!" Miss Perkins snapped.  "Scandalous! And
+SOMEBODY ought to stop it."  She glanced about with an
+unmistakable air of grievance at the closed doors, feeling that
+the pastor was undoubtedly behind one of them, when he ought to
+be out taking action against the things that her soul abominated.
+
+"Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that _I_ could," piped the widow,
+with a meek, martyred air.  She was always martyred.  She
+considered it an appropriate attitude for a widow.  "He can't
+blame ME if the choir is out of key to-morrow."  "Mercy me!"
+interrupted the spinster, "if there isn't Julia Strong a-leaning
+right out of that window a-looking at the circus, and her pa a
+deacon of the church, and this the house of the pastor.  It's
+shocking! I must go to her."
+
+"Ma, let me see, too," begged Willie, as he tugged at his
+mother's skirts.
+
+Mrs.  Willoughby hesitated.  Miss Perkins was certainly taking a
+long while for her argument with Julia.  The glow from the red
+powder outside the window was positively alarming.
+
+"Dear me!" she said, "I wonder if there can be a fire."  And with
+this pretext for investigation, she, too, joined the little group
+at the window.
+
+A few moments later when Douglas entered for a fresh supply of
+paper, the backs of the company were toward him.  He crossed to
+the study table without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to
+himself at the eager way in which they were hanging out of the
+window.
+
+Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and
+boyish in manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit.  He had
+seemed too young to the deacons when he was appointed to their
+church, and his keen enjoyment of outdoor games and other
+healthful sports robbed him of a certain dignity in their eyes. 
+Some of the women of the congregation had been inclined to side
+with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that the pastor found
+so many other interests when he might have been sitting in dark,
+stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had been
+either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had
+gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction
+of right, that had only left them floundering.  He intended to
+quit the room now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset
+a chair as he turned from the table.  This brought a chorus of
+exclamations from the women, who chattering rushed quickly toward
+him.
+
+"What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?" simpered the
+widow.  "He dragged me quite to the window."
+
+Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five- foot-six widow and
+then at the helpless, red- haired urchin by her side, but he made
+no comment beyond offering a chair to each of the women.
+
+"Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued," declared
+Miss Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair,
+adjusted her skirts for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the
+parson, who had dutifully seated himself near the table.
+
+"I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody," whimpered the
+widow, with an injured air; "but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What
+Shall the Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT."  She
+jerked her hand in the direction of the window.  The band was
+again playing the "hoochie coochie."
+
+"Never mind about the choir practice," said Douglas, with a
+smile.  "It is SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its
+music.  As for that music out there, it is NOT without its
+compensations.  Why, the small boys would rather hear that band
+than the finest church organ in the world."
+
+"And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you
+preach, most likely," snapped Miss Perkins.  It was adding insult
+to injury for him to try to CONSOLE her.
+
+"Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if
+they'd only tell the truth about it," said Douglas, laughing.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Miss Perkins.
+
+"Why not?" asked Douglas.  "I am sure I don't know what they do
+inside the tents, but the parade looked very promising."
+
+"The PARADE!" the two women echoed in one breath.  "Did YOU see
+the parade?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Douglas, enthusiastically.  "But it didn't
+compare with the one I saw at the age of eight."  He turned his
+head to one side and looked into space with a reminiscent smile. 
+The widow's red-haired boy crept close to him.
+
+"The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice," he continued,
+dreamily, "the elephants huge as mountains, the great calliope
+wafted my soul to the very skies, and I followed that parade
+right into the circus lot."
+
+"Did you seed inside de tent?" Willie asked, eagerly.
+
+"I didn't have enough money for that," Douglas answered, frankly. 
+He turned to the small boy and pinched his ear.  There was sad
+disappointment in the youngster's face, but he brightened again,
+when the parson confessed that he "peeped."
+
+"A parson peeping!" cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins.
+
+"I was not a parson then," corrected Douglas, good-naturedly.
+
+"You were GOING to be," persisted the spinster.
+
+"I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact."
+
+The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion.  He was
+looking very sheepish.
+
+"Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!" said Mandy.
+
+"Hasty, where have you been all day?" demanded Douglas, severely.
+
+Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time.  "Did yo' say
+whar's I been, sah?"
+
+"Dat's what he done ast yo'," Mandy prompted, threateningly.
+
+"I bin 'ceived, Mars John," declared Hasty, solemnly.  Mandy
+snorted incredulously.  Douglas waited.
+
+"A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis mawnin' dat ef I carry
+water fo' de el'phants, he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin',
+an' I make a 'greement wid him.  Mars John, did yo' ebber seed
+an' el'phant drink?" he asked, rolling his eyes.  John shook his
+head.
+
+"Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once
+an--swish--water gone."
+
+Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly.
+
+"Well, sah," continued Hasty, "I tote water fo' dem el'phants all
+day long, an' when I cum roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't
+let me in.  An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey pulls me
+out by de laigs an' beats me."  He looked from one to the other
+expecting sympathy.
+
+"Serves you right," was Mandy's unfeeling reply.  "If yo's so
+anxious to be a-totin' water, jes' yo' come along outside and
+tote some fo' Mandy."
+
+"I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy," protested Hasty.  "I'se
+hurted in mah arm."
+
+"What hurt yo'?"
+
+"Tiger."
+
+"A tiger?" exclaimed the women in unison.
+
+"Done chawed it mos' off," he declared, solemnly.  "Deacon
+Elverson, he seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad."
+
+"Deacon Elverson?" cried the spinster.  "Was Deacon Elverson at
+the circus?"
+
+"He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me," Hasty
+answered, innocently.
+
+"You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen," said Douglas to
+Mandy, with a dry smile; "he's talking too much for a wounded
+man."
+
+Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, advising him with
+fine scorn "to get de tiger to chew off his laigs, so's he
+wouldn't have to walk no mo'."
+
+The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly. 
+Elverson's behaviour was beyond their power of expression.  Miss
+Perkins turned to the pastor, as though he were somehow to blame
+for the deacon's backsliding, but before she could find words to
+argue the point, the timid little deacon appeared in the doorway,
+utterly unconscious of the hostile reception that Hasty had
+prepared for him.  He glanced nervously from one set face to the
+other, then coughed behind his hat,
+
+"We're all very much interested in the circus," said Douglas. 
+"Can't you tell us about it?"
+
+"I just went into the lot to look for my son," stammered the
+deacon.  "I feared Peter had strayed."
+
+"Why, deacon," said Mrs.  Willoughby.  "I just stopped by your
+house and saw Mrs.  Elverson putting Peter to bed."
+
+The deacon was saved from further embarrassment by an exclamation
+from Julia, who had stayed at the window.  "Oh, look; something
+has happened!" she cried.  "There's a crowd.  They are coming
+this way."
+
+Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and saw an excited mob
+collecting before the entrance to the main tent.  He had time to
+discover no more before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with
+excitement and rolling her large, white-rimmed eyeballs.
+
+"Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!" she
+cried.  "Dr.  Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?"
+
+"Of course," said Douglas, hurrying outside.
+
+There were horrified exclamations from the women, who were aghast
+at the idea of a circus rider in the parsonage.  In their
+helpless indignation, they turned upon the little deacon, feeling
+intuitively that he was enjoying the drama.  Elverson was
+retreating toward the door when he was suddenly thrust aside by
+Douglas.
+
+In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of
+humanity, her slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder.  The
+silk stocking was torn from one bruised ankle; her hair fell
+across her face, veiling it from the unfriendly glances of the
+women.  Douglas passed out of sight up the stairway without
+looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor.
+
+Mandy reached the front door in time to push back a crowd of
+intruders.  She had barely closed the door when it was thrust
+open by Jim.
+
+"Where is she?" he demanded.
+
+"Go 'way f'um here!" cried Mandy, as her eyes unconsciously
+sought the stairs.
+
+Jim followed the direction of her glance, and cleared the steps
+at a bound.  Mandy pursued him, muttering angrily.  Deacon
+Elverson, too, was about to follow, when a grim reminder from
+Miss Perkins brought him around and he made for the door instead. 
+He started back on opening it, for standing on the threshold was
+a clown in his grotesque "make-up"; his white clothes were
+partially concealed by a large, travelling ulster, held together
+by one button.  In one hand he carried a small leather satchel;
+in the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was thrown
+across his arm.  The giggles of the boy hiding behind his
+mother's skirt were the only greetings received by the trembling
+old man in the doorway.
+
+He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other,
+waiting for a word of invitation to enter; but none came.
+
+"Excuse me," he said; "I just brought some of her little things. 
+She'd better put on her coat when she goes out.  It's gettin'
+kinder chilly."
+
+He looked again into the blank faces; still no one spoke.  He
+stepped forward, trembling with anxiety.  A sudden fear clutched
+at his heart, the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red
+painted lips began to quiver.
+
+"It ain't-- It ain't that, is it?" he faltered, unable to utter
+the word that filled him with horror.
+
+Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the
+old man's voice.  "I guess you will find the person you are
+looking for upstairs," she answered tartly; and flounced out of
+the house, calling to Julia and the others to follow her, and
+declaring that she would soon let folks know how the parson had
+brought a "circus ridin' girl" into the parsonage.
+
+The painted clown stood alone, looking from one wall to the
+other, then he crossed the room and placed the alligator satchel
+and the little coat and hat on the study table.  He was careful
+not to wrinkle the coat, for this was Polly's birthday gift.  Jim
+and he had planned to have sandwiches and soda pop on the top of
+the big wagon when they offered their treasures tonight; but now
+the wagons would soon be leaving--and where was Polly? He turned
+to ask this question as Mandy came down the stairs.
+
+"Well, if dar ain't anudder one," she cried.
+
+"Never mind, Mandy," said Douglas, who was just behind her,
+carrying a small water pitcher, and searching for a bottle of
+brandy which had been placed in the medicine chest for
+emergencies.
+
+"You can take these upstairs," he told her, when he had filled
+the pitcher with water and found the liquor.  Mandy looked
+threateningly at Toby, then reluctantly went on her way.
+
+Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly.  His was the first
+greeting that Toby had received, and he at last found voice to
+ask whether Polly was badly hurt.
+
+"The doctor hasn't told us yet," said Douglas, kindly.
+
+"I'm her Uncle Toby--not her REAL uncle," the old man explained,
+"but that's what she calls me.  I couldn't come out right away,
+because I'm on in the concert.  Could I see her now, please?"
+
+"Here's the doctor," said Douglas, as Hartley came down the
+stairs, followed by Jim.  "Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?"
+
+"Yes, rather bad," said the doctor, adding quickly, as he saw the
+suffering in Toby's face, "but don't be alarmed.  She's going to
+get well."
+
+"How long will it be before we can have her back--before she can
+ride again?" asked Jim gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his
+brown, worn hat in his hands.
+
+"Probably several months," said the doctor.  "No bones are
+broken, but the ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received
+a bad blow on the head.  It will be some time before she recovers
+consciousness."
+"What are we goin' to do, Jim?" asked Toby, helplessly.
+
+"You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here," said
+Douglas, seeing desperation written on their faces.
+
+"Here?" They looked at him incredulously.-- And this was a
+parson!
+
+"Where are her parents?" the doctor asked, looking at Jim and
+Toby.
+
+"She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me," replied Jim. 
+"We've took care of her ever since she was a baby."
+
+"Oh, I see," said the doctor.  "Well, one of you'd better stay
+here until she can be moved."
+
+"That's the trouble; we can't," said Toby, hanging his head. 
+"You see, sir, circus folks is like soldiers.  No matter what
+happens, the show has to go on, and we got to be in our places."
+
+"Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here," said the doctor.  "It
+is a fortunate thing that Mr.  Douglas can manage this.  Our town
+hospital burned down a few months ago, and we've been rather
+puzzled as to what to do with such cases."  He took his leave
+with a cheery "Good night," and a promise to look in upon the
+little patient later.  Jim shuffled awkwardly toward the pastor.
+
+"It's mighty good of you to do this," he mumbled, "but she ain't
+goin' to be no charity patient.  Me and Toby is goin' to look
+after her keep."
+
+"Her wants will be very few," Douglas answered, kindly.  "You
+needn't trouble much about that."
+
+"I mean it," said Jim, savagely.  He met Douglas's glance of
+surprise with a determined look, for he feared that his chance of
+being useful to Polly might be slipping out of his life.
+
+"You mustn't mind Jim," the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. 
+"You see pain gets some folks different from others; and it
+always kinder makes him savage."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," Douglas answered, quickly.  His own life
+had been so lonely, that he could understand the selfish yearning
+in the big man's heart.  "You must do what you think best about
+these things; Mandy and I will look after the rest."
+
+Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen
+straight into his heart and discovered his petty weakness.  He
+was about to turn toward the door when it was thrown open by
+Barker.
+
+"Where is she?" shouted the manager, looking from one to the
+other.
+
+"She can't come," said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew
+the storm of opposition with which Barker would meet the
+announcement.
+
+"Can't come?" shrieked Barker.  "Of course she'll come.  I can't
+get along without her.  She's GOT to come."  He looked at Jim,
+who remained silent and firm.  "WHY ain't she comin'?" he asked,
+feeling himself already defeated.
+
+"She's hurt bad," was Jim's laconic reply.
+
+"The devil she is!" said Barker, looking at Douglas for
+confirmation.  "Is that right?"
+
+"She won't be able to travel for some time," said Douglas.
+
+"Mr.  Barker is our manager," Toby explained, as he edged his way
+to the pastor's side.
+
+"Some time!" Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame
+for their misfortune.  "Well, you just bet she will," he declared
+menacingly.
+
+"See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that," said Jim,
+facing the manager.  "He's darned square even if he is a parson." 
+Barker turned away.  He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was
+irritated and upset at losing the star feature of his bill.
+
+"Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?" he muttered to himself, as his
+eye again travelled to the boss canvas-man.  "You get out a'
+here, Jim," he shouted, "an' start them wagons.  The show's got
+to go on, Poll or no Poll."
+
+He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a
+grudging thanks to the pastor.  "It's all fired good of you to
+take her in," he said, "but it's tough to lose her.  Good night!"
+He banged the door and clattered down the steps.
+
+Jim waited.  He was trying to find words in which to tell his
+gratitude.  None came; and he turned to go with a short
+"good-bye!"
+
+"Good night, Jim," said the pastor.  He crossed the room and took
+the big fellow's hand.
+
+"Much obliged," Jim answered gruffly.  It was his only polite
+phrase, and he had taught Polly to say it.  Douglas waited until
+Jim had passed down the steps, then turned to Toby, who still
+lingered near the table.
+
+"You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without
+sayin' 'good-bye,' won't you, sir?" Toby pleaded.
+
+"Yes, indeed," Douglas promised.
+
+"I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel."  He
+picked up the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's
+birthday gift.  "Me an' Jim will be sendin' her more soon."
+
+"You're going to miss her, I'm afraid," Douglas said, feeling an
+irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence.
+
+"Lord bless you, yes, sir," Toby answered, turning upon him
+eagerly.  "Me an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about
+everythin' to that little one.  She wan't much bigger'n a handful
+of peanuts when we begun a-worryin' about her."
+
+"Well, Mandy will do the worrying now," Douglas laughed.  "She's
+been dying for a chance to mother somebody all along.  Why, she
+even tried it on me."
+
+"I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look
+kinder queer at me," said Toby, "and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe
+they might feel the same about her."
+
+"Oh, they're all right," Douglas assured him; "they'll be her
+friends in no time."
+
+"She's fit for 'em, sir," Toby pleaded.  "She's good, clean into
+the middle of her heart."
+
+"I'm sure of it," Douglas answered.
+
+"I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people,
+sir, and I jes' wanted ye to know that there ain't finer
+families, or better mothers or fathers or grandfathers or
+grandmothers anywhere than we got among us.  Why, that girl's
+mother rode the horses afore her, and her mother afore that, and
+her grandmother and grandfather afore that, an' there ain't
+nobody what's cared more for their good name and their children's
+good name an' her people has.  You see, sir, circus folks is all
+like that; they's jes' like one big family; they tends to their
+business and takes good care o' theirselves--they has to --or
+they couldn't do their work.  It's 'cause I'm leavin' her with
+you that I'm sayin' all this," the old man apologised.
+
+"I'm glad you told me, Toby," Douglas answered, kindly.  "I've
+never known much about circus folks."
+
+"I guess I'd better be goin'," Toby faltered, as his eyes roved
+hungrily toward the stairway.
+
+"I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how
+she is."
+
+"Indeed I will," Douglas assured him, heartily.
+
+"You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so," he added.
+
+"I'll tell her," Douglas promised earnestly.
+
+"Good night!" The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable
+to find further pretext for staying.
+
+"Good night, Toby."  Douglas extended his hand toward the bent
+figure that was about to shuffle past him.  The withered hand of
+the white-faced clown rested in the strong grasp of the pastor,
+and his pale, little eyes sought the face of the stalwart man
+before him; a numb desolation was growing in his heart; the
+object for which he had gone on day by day was being left behind
+and he must stumble forth into the night alone.
+
+"It's hard to leave her," he mumbled; "but the show has got to go
+on."
+
+The door shut out the bent, old figure.  Douglas stood for some
+time where Toby had left him, still thinking of his prophetic
+words.  His revery was broken by the sounds of the departing
+wagons, the low muttered curses of the drivers, the shrieking and
+roaring of the animals, as the circus train moved up the distant
+hill.  "The show has got to go on," he repeated as he crossed to
+his study table and seated himself for work in the dim light of
+the old-fashioned lamp.  He put out one hand to draw the sheets
+of his interrupted sermon toward him, but instead it fell upon a
+small sailor hat.  He twisted the hat absently in his fingers,
+not yet realising the new order of things that was coming into
+his life.  Mandy tiptoed softly down the stairs.  She placed one
+pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her large eyes skyward. 
+"Dat sure am an angel chile straight from Hebben," she whispered. 
+"She done got a face jes' like a little flower."
+
+"Straight from heaven," Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly
+to the table and picked up the satchel and coat.
+
+"You can leave the lamp, Mandy--I must finish to-morrow's
+sermon."
+
+She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as
+she saw the imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's
+face.
+
+"Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired," she said.
+
+"No, no; not at all.  Good night, Mandy!"
+
+She closed the door behind her, and Douglas was alone.  He gazed
+absently at the pages of his unfinished sermon as he tapped his
+idle pen on the desk.  "The show has got to go on," he repeated,
+and far up the hillside with the slow- moving wagons, Jim and
+Toby looked with unseeing eyes into the dim, star-lit distance,
+and echoed the thought:  "The show has got to go on."
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+THE church bells were ringing their first warning for the morning
+service when Mandy peeped into the spare bedroom for the second
+time, and glanced cautiously at the wisp of hair that bespoke a
+feminine head somewhere between the covers and the little white
+pillow on the four- poster bed.  There was no sound from the
+sleeper, so Mandy ventured across the room on tiptoe and raised
+the shades.  The drooping boughs of Autumn foliage lay shimmering
+against the window panes, and through them might be seen the grey
+outline of the church.  Mandy glanced again toward the bed to
+make sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened the invalid,
+then crossed to a small, rickety chair, laden with the discarded
+finery of the little circus rider.
+
+"Lawdy sakes!" she cried, holding up a spangled dress,
+admiringly.  "Ain't dat beautiful!" She drew near the mirror,
+attempting to see the reflection of the tinsel and chiffon
+against her very ample background of gingham and avoirdupois. 
+"You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat on, Honey," she chuckled to
+herself.  "Wouldn't dem deacons holler if dey done see dat?"
+
+The picture of the deacons' astonishment at such a spectacle so
+grew upon Mandy, that she was obliged to cover her generous mouth
+to shut in her convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the little
+girl in the bed.  She crossed to the old-fashioned bureau which
+for many months had stood unused against the wall.  The drawer
+creaked as she opened it to lay away the gay, spangled gown.
+
+"It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on dem tings agin,"
+she said, with a doubtful shake of her large, round head.
+
+Then she went back to the chair and picked up Polly's sandals,
+and examined the bead-work with a great deal of interest. 
+"Lawdy, lawdy!" she cried, as she compared the size of the
+sandals to that of her own rough, worn shoes.  She was again upon
+the point of exploding with laughter, as the church bell added a
+few, final and more emphatic clangs to its warning.
+
+She turned with a start, motioning a vain warning out of the
+window for the bell to be silent, but the little sleeper was
+already stirring uneasily on her pillow.  One soft arm was thrown
+languidly over her head.  The large, blue eyes opened and closed
+dreamily as she murmured the words of the clown song that Jim and
+Toby had taught her years ago:
+
+"Ting ling,
+
+That's what the bells sing----"
+
+Mandy reached the side of the bed as the girl's eyes opened a
+second time and met hers with a blank stare of astonishment.  A
+tiny frown came into the small, white forehead.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked faintly, trying to find something
+familiar in the black face before her.
+
+"Hush, child, hush," Mandy whispered; "jes' you lie puffickly
+still.  Dat's only de furs' bell a-ringin'."
+
+"First bell?" the girl repeated, as her eyes travelled quickly
+about the strange walls and the unfamiliar fittings of the room. 
+"This ain't the show!" she cried, suddenly.
+
+"Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show," Mandy answered; and she
+laughed reassuringly.
+
+"Then where am I?" Polly asked, half breathless with
+bewilderment.
+
+"Nebber you mind 'bout dat," was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply.
+
+"But I DO mind," protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a
+sitting position.  "Where's the bunch?"
+
+"De wat?" asked Mandy in surprise.
+
+"The bunch--Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!"
+
+"Lor' bless you!" Mandy exclaimed.  "Dey's done gone 'long wid de
+circus, hours ago."
+
+"Gone! Show gone!" Polly cried in amazement.  "Then what am I
+doing here?"
+
+"Hole on dar, honey! hole on!" Mandy cautioned.  "Don't you 'cite
+yo'se'f."
+
+"Let me alone!" Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place
+a shawl around her.  "I got to get out a-here."
+
+"You'se got plenty o' time for dat," Mandy answered.  "yes' yo'
+wait awhile."
+
+"I can't wait, and I won't!" Polly shrieked, almost beside
+herself with anxiety.  "I got to get to the next burg--Wakefield,
+ain't it? What time is it? Let me alone! Let me go!" she cried,
+struggling desperately.
+
+The door opened softly and the young pastor stood looking down at
+the picture of the frail, white-faced child, and her black,
+determined captor.
+
+"Here, here! What's all this about?" he asked, in a firm tone,
+though evidently amused.
+
+"Who are you?" returned the girl, as she shoved herself quickly
+back against the pillows and drew the covers close under her
+chin, looking at him oddly over their top.
+
+"She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful," Mandy explained, as
+she tried to regain enough breath for a new encounter.
+
+"Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly," he said, with mock
+seriousness.
+
+"How do you know I'm Polly?" the little rebel asked, her eyes
+gleaming large and desperate above the friendly covers.
+
+"If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell
+you," he said, as he crossed to the bed.
+
+"I won't be quiet, not for nobody," Polly objected, with a bold
+disregard of double negatives.  "I got to get a move.  If you
+ain't goin' to help me, you needn't butt in."
+
+"I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet," Douglas replied. 
+He was beginning to perceive that there were tasks before him
+other than the shaping of Polly's character.
+
+"What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?" she asked, as she shot
+a glance of suspicion from the pastor to Mandy.  "What am I up
+against?"
+
+"Don't yuh be scared, honey," Mandy reassured her.  "You's jes'
+as safe here as you done been in de circus."
+
+"Safer, we hope," Douglas added, with a smile.
+
+"Are you two bug?" Polly questioned, as she turned her head from
+one side to the other and studied them with a new idea.  "Well,
+you can't get none the best of me.  I can get away all right, and
+I will, too."
+
+She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but
+fell back with a cry of pain.
+
+"Dar, dar," Mandy murmured, putting the pillow under the poor,
+cramped neck, and smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's
+forehead.  "Yuh done hurt yo'sef for suah dis time."
+
+The pastor had taken a step toward the bed.   His look of
+amusement had changed to one of pity.
+
+"You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad fall, and you can't
+get away just yet, nor see your friends until you are better."
+
+"It's only a scratch," Polly whimpered.  "I can do my work; I got
+to."  One more feeble effort and she succumbed, with a faint
+"Jimminy Crickets!"
+
+"Uncle Toby told me that you were a very good little girl,"
+Douglas said, as he drew up a chair and sat down by her side,
+confident by the expression on her face that at last he was
+master of the situation.  "Do you think he would like you to
+behave like this?"
+
+"I sure am on the blink," she sighed, as she settled back wearily
+upon the pillow.
+
+"You'll be all right soon," Douglas answered, cheerily.  "Mandy
+and I will help the time to go."
+
+"I recollect now," Polly faltered, without hearing him.  "It was
+the last hoop.  Jim seemed to have a hunch I was goin' to be in
+for trouble when I went into the ring.  Bingo must a felt it,
+too.  He kept a-pullin' and a-jerkin' from the start.  I got
+myself together to make the last jump an'--I can't remember no
+more."  Her head drooped and her eyes closed.
+
+"I wouldn't try just now if I were you," Douglas answered
+tenderly.
+
+"It's my WHEEL, ain't it?" Polly questioned, after a pause.
+
+"Yoah what, chile?" Mandy exclaimed, as she turned from the
+table, where she had been rolling up the unused bandages left
+from the doctor's call the night before.
+
+"I say it's my creeper, my paddle," Polly explained, trying to
+locate a few of her many pains.  "Gee, but that hurts!" She tried
+to bend her ankle.  "Is it punctured?"
+
+"Only sprained," Douglas answered, striving to control his
+amusement at the expression on Mandy's puzzled face.  "Better not
+talk any more about it."
+
+"Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?" she asked,
+turning her head to one side and studying him quizzically.
+
+"I don't think there is," he replied good-naturedly.
+
+"How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?" she asked, as she
+studied the walls of the unfamiliar room.
+
+"We brought you here."
+
+"It's a swell place," she conceded grudgingly.
+
+"We are comfortable," he admitted, as a tell- tale smile again
+hovered about his lips.  He was thinking of the changes that he
+must presently make in Miss Polly's vocabulary.
+
+"Is this the 'big top?' she asked.
+
+"The--what?" he stammered.
+
+"The main tent," she explained.
+
+"Well, no; not exactly.  It's going to be your room now, Miss
+Polly."
+
+"My room! Gee! Think a' that!" she gasped, as the possibility of
+her actually having a room all of her own took hold of her mind. 
+"Much obliged," she said with a nod, feeling that something was
+expected of her.  She knew no other phrase of gratitude than the
+one "Muvver" Jim and Toby had taught her to say to the manager
+when she received from him the first stick of red and white
+striped candy.
+
+"You're very welcome," Douglas answered with a ring of genuine
+feeling in his voice.
+
+"Awful quiet, ain't it?" she ventured, after a pause.  "Guess
+that's what woke me up."
+
+Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the thought of quiet as a
+disturber, and added that he feared it might at first be rather
+dull for her, but that Jim and Toby would send her news of the
+circus, and that she could write to them as soon as she was
+better.
+
+"I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write
+much," Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"I will write for you," the pastor volunteered, understanding her
+plight.
+
+"You will?" For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in
+her eyes.
+
+"Every day," Douglas promised solemnly.
+
+"And you will show me how?"
+
+"Indeed I will."
+
+"How long am I in for?" she asked.
+
+"The doctor can tell better about that when he comes."
+
+"The doctor! So--it's as bad as that, eh?"
+
+"Oh, that need not frighten you," Douglas answered consolingly.
+
+"I ain't frightened," she bridled quickly; "I ain't never scared
+of nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm
+a-kickin'."
+
+"Oh, they will get along all right," he said reassuringly.
+
+"Get along?" Polly flashed with sudden resentment.  "Get along
+WITHOUT MY ACT!" It was apparent from her look of astonishment
+that Douglas had completely lost whatever ground he had
+heretofore gained in her respect.  "Say, have you seen that
+show?" She waited for his answer with pity and contempt.
+
+"No," admitted John, weakly.
+
+"Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like
+that.  I'm the whole thing in that push," she said with an air of
+self- complacency; "and with me down and out, that show will be
+on the bum for fair."
+
+"I beg your pardon," was all Douglas could say, confused by the
+sudden volley of unfamiliar words.
+
+"You're kiddin' me," she said, turning her head to one side as
+was her wont when assailed by suspicion; "you MUST a seen me
+ride?"
+
+"No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus," Douglas told her
+half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon
+him.
+
+"What!" cried Polly, incredulously.
+
+"Lordy no, chile; he ain't nebber seed none ob dem tings," Mandy
+interrupted, as she tried to arrange a few short-stemmed posies
+in a variegated bouquet.
+
+"Well, what do you think of that!" Polly gasped.  "You're the
+first rube I ever saw that hadn't."  She was looking at him as
+though he were a curiosity.
+
+"So I'm a rube!" Douglas shook his head with a sad, little smile
+and good-naturedly agreed that he had sometimes feared as much.
+
+"That's what we always calls a guy like you," she explained
+ingenuously, and added hopefully:  "Well, you MUST a' seen our
+parade--all the pikers see that--IT don't cost nothin'."
+
+"I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the charge of being a
+piker," Douglas admitted half-sheepishly, "for I did see the
+parade."
+
+"Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion
+cage," she began excitedly.  "You remember?"
+
+"It's a little confused in my mind--" he caught her look of
+amazement, "just AT PRESENT," he stammered, feeling her wrath
+again about to descend upon him.
+
+"Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand," she explained.
+
+"Sheet!" Mandy shrieked from her corner.
+
+"Yes--the billboards--the pictures," Polly said, growing
+impatient at their persistent stupidity.
+
+"She sure am a funny talkin' thing!" mumbled Mandy to herself, as
+she clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window.
+
+"You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?" Polly asked with
+a lingering suspicion in her voice.
+
+"Dead sure"; and Douglas smiled to himself as he lapsed into her
+vernacular.
+
+There was a moment's pause.  Polly realised for the first time
+that she must actually readjust herself to a new order of things. 
+Her eyes again roved about the room.  It was a cheerful place in
+which to be imprisoned--even Polly could not deny that.  The
+broad window at the back with its white and pink chintz curtains
+on the inside, and its frame of ivy on the outside, spoke of
+singing birds and sunshine all day long.  Everything from the
+white ceiling to the sweet-smelling matting that covered the
+floor was spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed rocker near the
+curved window-seat with its pretty pillows told of days when a
+convalescent might look in comfort at the garden beneath; the
+counterpane, with its old-fashioned rose pattern, the little
+white tidies on the back of each chair, and Mandy crooning beside
+the window, all helped to make a homelike picture.
+
+She wondered what Jim and Toby would say if they could see her
+now, sitting like a queen in the midst of her soft coverlets,
+with no need to raise even a finger to wait upon herself.
+
+"Ain't it the limit?" she sighed, and with that Jim and Toby
+seemed to drift farther away.  She began to see their life apart
+from hers.  She could picture Jim with his head in his hands. 
+She could hear his sharp orders to the men.  He was always short
+with the others when anything went wrong with her.
+
+"I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps," she murmured, as a cloud
+stole across the flower-like face; then the tired muscles
+relaxed, and she ceased to rebel.
+
+"Muvver Jim"? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her
+to a knowledge of his presence.
+
+"That's what I calls him," Polly explained, "but the fellows
+calls him 'Big Jim.' You might not think Jim could be a good
+mother just to look at him, but he is; only, sometimes, you can't
+tell him things you could a real mother," she added, half sadly.
+
+"And your real mother went away when you were very young?"
+
+"No, she didn't go AWAY----"
+
+"No?" There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice.
+
+"She went out," Polly corrected.
+
+"Out!" he echoed blankly.
+
+"Yes--finished-- Lights out."
+
+"Oh, an accident."  Douglas understood at last.
+
+"I don't like to talk about it."  Polly raised herself on her
+elbow and looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit
+of forbidden family history.  It was this look in the round eyes
+that had made Jim so often declare that the kid knew everything.
+
+"Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a knowed how she wound up. 
+She was the best rider of her time, everybody says so, but she
+cashed in by fallin' off a skate what didn't have no more ginger
+'an a kitten.  If you can beat that?" She gazed at him with her
+lips pressed tightly together, evidently expecting some startling
+expression of wonder.
+
+"And your father?" Douglas asked rather lamely, being at a loss
+for any adequate comment upon a tragedy which the child before
+him was too desolate even to understand.
+
+"Oh, DAD'S finish was all right.  He got his'n in a lion's cage
+where he worked.  There was nothing slow about his end."  She
+looked up for his approval.
+
+"For de Lord's sake!" Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's
+conversation grew upon her.
+
+"And now I'm down and out," Polly concluded with a sigh.
+
+"But THIS is nothing serious," said the pastor, trying to cheer
+her.
+
+"It's serious ENOUGH, with a whole show a'- dependin' on you. 
+Maybe you don't know how it feels to have to knock off work."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do," Douglas answered quickly.  "I was ill a while
+ago myself.  I had to be in bed day after day, thinking of dozens
+of things that I ought to be doing."
+
+"Was you ever floored?" Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as
+she studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed.
+
+" 'Deed he was, chile," Mandy cried, feeling that her opportunity
+had now arrived; "an' I had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. 
+He act jes' like you did."
+
+"Did he?" Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had
+"nothin' on her," as she would have put it.
+
+"You ought to have heard him," continued Mandy, made eloquent by
+Polly's show of interest.  " 'What will dose poor folks do?' he
+kept a-sayin'.  'yes' yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him.  'Dem
+poor folks will be better off dan dey would be a-comin' to yoah
+funeral.' "
+
+"Poor folks?" Polly questioned.  "Do you give money to folks?" We
+are always itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em."
+
+Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his
+disapproved methods, Mandy had continued eagerly:
+
+"An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to church and preach--" She
+got no further.  A sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and
+Douglas to attention.
+
+"Preach!" Polly almost shouted.  She looked at him with genuine
+alarm this time.
+
+"That will do, Mandy," Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome
+drama gathering about his head.
+
+"Great Barnum and Bailey!" Polly exclaimed, looking at him as
+though he were the very last thing in the world she had ever
+expected to see.  "Are you a skypilot?"
+
+"That's what he am, chile."  Mandy slipped the words in slyly,
+for she knew that they were against the pastor's wishes, but she
+was unable to restrain her mischievous impulse to sow the seeds
+of curiosity that would soon bear fruit in the inquisitive mind
+of the little invalid.
+
+"Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?" She
+continued to study the uncomfortable man at her side.  "I never
+thought I'd be a-talkin'to one of you guys.  What's your name?"
+
+"Douglas."  He spoke shortly.
+
+"Ain't you got no handle to it?"
+
+"If you mean my Christian name, it's John."
+
+"Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right.  But you don't
+look like I s'posed they did."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like.  You're
+a'most as good lookin' as our strong man."
+
+"I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried
+parson," Mandy chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's
+discomfort.
+
+"Looks don't play a very important part in my work," Douglas
+answered curtly.  Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly
+anxious to get to a less personal topic.
+
+"Well, they count for a whole lot with us."  She nodded her head
+decidedly.  "How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?"
+
+"About a year," Douglas answered, with something of a sigh.
+
+"A year!" she gasped.  "In a burg like this? You must have an
+awful lot of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long." 
+She was wise in the ways of professional success.
+
+"Not many, I'm afraid."  He wondered, for the first time, if this
+might be the reason for his rather indifferent success.
+
+"Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?"
+
+"A rep?" he repeated in surprise.
+
+"Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em.  Uncle
+Toby's got twenty-seven entries.  It makes a heap of difference
+in the big towns where you have a run."
+
+"Oh, I understand," Douglas answered in a tone of relief.  "Well,
+I try to say something new each Sunday."
+
+"What kind of spiels do you give 'em?" she inquired with growing
+interest.
+
+"I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves
+and to forget their week-day troubles."  He had never had
+occasion to define his efforts so minutely.
+
+"Well, that's jes' the same as us," Polly told him with an air of
+condescension; "only circuses draws more people 'an churches."
+
+"YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment,"
+Douglas answered drily.  He was beginning to feel that there were
+many tricks in the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. 
+And, after all, what was his preaching but an effort at
+entertainment? If he failed to hold his congregation by what he
+was saying, his listeners grew drowsy, and his sermon fell short
+of its desired effect.  It was true that his position and hers
+had points of similarity.  She was apparently successful; as for
+himself, he could not be sure.  He knew he tried very hard and
+that sometimes a tired mother or a sad- faced child looked up at
+him with a smile that made the service seem worth while.
+
+Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart
+was quick to find consolation for him.
+
+"You ain't got all the worst of it," she said.  "If we tried to
+play a dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death.  You
+certainly must give 'em a great show," she added, surveying him
+with growing interest.
+
+"It doesn't make much difference about the show--" Douglas began,
+but he was quickly interrupted.
+
+"That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus.  One year ye
+give 'em the rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the
+next year you hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost.  Is that
+the way it is with a church show?"
+
+"Much the same," Douglas admitted half- amusedly,
+half-regretfully.  "Very often when I work the hardest, I seem to
+do the least good."
+
+"I guess our troubles is pretty much alike.' Polly nodded with a
+motherly air of condescension.  "Only there ain't so much danger
+in your act."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," he laughed.
+
+"Well, you take my tip," she leaned forward as though about to
+impart a very valuable bit of information.  "Don't you never go
+in for ridin'.  There ain't no act on earth so hard as a ridin'
+act.  The rest of the bunch has got it easy alongside of us. 
+Take the fellows on the trapeze.  They always get their tackle up
+in jes' the same place.  Take the balancin' acts; there ain't no
+difference in their layouts.  Take any of 'em as depends on
+regular props; and they ain't got much chance a-goin' wrong.  But
+say, when yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't never no two
+times alike.  If your horse is feelin' good, the ground is
+stumbly; if the ground ain't on the blink the horse is wobbly. 
+Ther's always somethin' wrong somewheres, and yer ain't never
+knowin' how it's goin' ter end-- especially when you got to do a
+careful act like mine.  There's a girl, Eloise, in our bunch,
+what does a SHOWY act on a horse what Barker calls Barbarian. 
+She goes on in my place sometimes-- and say, them rubes applauds
+her as much as me, an' her stunts is baby tricks alongside o'
+mine.  It's enough to make you sick o' art."  She shook her head
+dolefully, then sat up with renewed interest.
+
+"You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, an' you got ter
+know your horse an' your ground for that.  Now you get wise ter
+what I'm a-tellin' yer, and don't you NEVER go into ANYTHIN' what
+depends on ANYTHIN' else."
+
+"Thank you, Polly, I won't."  Douglas somehow felt that he was
+very much indebted to her.
+
+"I seen a church show once," Polly said suddenly.
+
+"You did?" Douglas asked, with new interest.
+
+"Yes," she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further
+comment.
+
+"Did you like it?" he questioned, after a pause.
+
+"Couldn't make nothin' out of it--I don't care much for readin'."
+
+"Oh, it isn't ALL reading," he corrected.
+
+"Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n.  He got the whole thing
+right out of a book."
+
+"Oh, that was only his text," laughed Douglas.  "Text?"
+
+"Yes.  And later he tried to interpret to his congrega----"
+
+"Easy! Easy!" she interrupted; "come again with that, will you?"
+
+"He told them the meaning of what he read."  "Well, I don't know
+what he told 'em, but it didn't mean anythin' to me.  But maybe
+your show is better'n his was," she added, trying to pacify him.
+
+Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused or grateful for
+Polly's ever-increasing sympathy.  Before he could trust his
+twitching lips to answer, she had put another question to him.
+
+"Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?"
+
+"I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this
+morning."
+
+"Is this Sunday?" she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and
+looking about the room as though everything had changed colour.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And YOU GOT A MATINEE?" she exclaimed, incredulously.
+
+"We have services," he corrected, gently.
+
+"WE rest up on SUNDAYS," she said in a tone of deep
+commiseration.
+
+"Oh, I see," he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon
+another discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two
+professions.
+
+"What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?"
+
+"About Ruth and Naomi."
+
+"Ruth and who?"
+
+"Naomi," he repeated.
+
+"Naomi," she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she
+listened to the soft cadences of the word.  "I never heard that
+name afore.   It 'ud look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't
+it?"
+
+"It's a Bible name, honey," Mandy said, eager to get into the
+conversation.  "Dar's a balful picture 'bout her.  I seed it."
+
+"I LIKE to look at PICTURES," Polly answered tentatively.  Mandy
+crossed the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel
+engravings.
+
+"We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt.  Some of
+the folks is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't."
+
+She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend,
+but just then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large,
+old-fashioned Bible, and Douglas helped to place the ponderous
+book before the invalid.
+
+"See, honey, dar dey is," the old woman said, pointing to the
+picture of Ruth and Naomi.
+
+"Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?" Polly gasped, and her eyes
+shone with wonder.  "Which one 's Ruth?"
+
+"Dis one," said Mandy, pointing with her thumb.
+
+"Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers.  What does
+it say about 'em?" 
+
+"You can read it for yourself," Douglas answered gently.  There
+was something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little
+mind.
+
+"Well, I ain't much on readin'--OUT LOUD," she faltered, growing
+suddenly conscious of her deficiencies.  "Read it for me, will
+you?"
+
+"Certainly," and he drew his chair nearer to the bed.  One strong
+hand supported the other half of the Bible, and his head was very
+near to hers as his deep, full voice pronounced the solemn words
+in which Ruth pleaded so many years before.
+
+" 'Entreat me not to leave thee,' " he read, " 'or to return from
+following after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where
+thou lodgest I will lodge.  Thy people shall be my people, and
+thy God my God.' "
+
+He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines.
+
+"Kind o' pretty, ain't it?" Polly said softly.  She felt awkward
+and constrained and a little overawed.
+
+"There are far more beautiful things than that," Douglas assured
+her enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears.
+
+"There are?" And her eyes opened wide with wonder.
+
+"Yes, indeed," he replied, pitying more and more the starvation
+of mind and longing to bring to it floods of light and
+enrichment.
+
+"I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel," and she fell to studying
+him solemnly.
+
+"You would?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Is there any more to that story?" she asked, ignoring his
+question.
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"Would you read me a little more?" She was very humble now.
+
+"Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the
+Lord do so to me and more also, if ought but death part me and
+thee.' "
+
+Their eyes met.  There was a long pause.  Suddenly the sharp,
+sweet notes of the church bell brought John Douglas to his feet
+with a start of surprise.
+
+"Have you got to go?" Polly asked regretfully.
+
+"Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the church.  Open the
+window, Mandy!" And he passed out of the door and quickly down
+the stairs.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate his nephew for the
+ministry, the boy was less enthusiastic than his mother.  He did
+not remonstrate, however, for it had been the custom of
+generations for at least one son of each Douglas family to preach
+the gospel of Calvinism, and his father's career as an architect
+and landscape gardener had not left him much capital.
+
+Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an artist by the few who
+understood his talents, but there is small demand for the builder
+of picturesque houses in the little business towns of the Middle
+West, and at last he passed away, leaving his son only the burden
+of his financial failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the
+profession in which his father had fared so badly.  The hopeless,
+defeated look on the departed man's face had always haunted the
+boy, who was artist enough to feel his father's genius
+intuitively, and human enough to resent the injustice of his
+fate.
+
+Douglas's mother had suffered so much because of the impractical
+efforts of her husband, that she discouraged the early tendencies
+of the son toward drawing and mathematics and tried to direct his
+thoughts toward creeds and Bible history.  When he went away for
+his collegiate course, she was less in touch with him; and he was
+able to steal time from his athletics to devote to his art.  He
+spent his vacations in a neighbouring city before a drawing board
+in the office of a distinguished architect, his father's friend.
+
+Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, and he was relieved
+when at last he received his degree in theology and found himself
+appointed to a small church in the Middle West.
+
+His step was very bright the morning he first went up the path
+that led to his new home.  His artistic sense was charmed by the
+picturesque approach to the church and parsonage.  The view
+toward the tree-encircled spire was unobstructed, for the church
+had been built on the outskirts of the town to allow for a growth
+that had not materialised.  He threw up his head and gazed at the
+blue hills, with their background of soft, slow-moving clouds. 
+The smell of the fresh earth, the bursting of the buds, the
+forming of new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was very
+near to pain.
+
+He stopped half way up the path and considered the advantages of
+a new front to the narrow- eaved cottage, and when his foot
+touched the first step of the vine-covered porch, he was far more
+concerned about a new portico than with any thought of his first
+sermon.
+
+His speculations were abruptly cut short by Mandy, who bustled
+out of the door with a wide smile of welcome on her black face,
+and an unmistakable ambition to take him immediately under her
+motherly wing.  She was much concerned because the church people
+had not met the new pastor at the station and brought him to the
+house.  Upon learning that Douglas had purposely avoided their
+escort, preferring to come to his new home the first time alone,
+she made up her mind that she was going to like him.
+
+Mandy had long been a fixture in the parsonage.  She and her
+worse half, Hasty Jones, had come to know and discuss the
+weaknesses of the many clergymen who had come and gone, the
+deacons, and the congregation, both individually and
+collectively.  She confided to Hasty, that she "didn't blame de
+new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd."
+
+In the study that night, when she and Hasty helped Douglas to
+unpack his many boxes of books, they were as eager as children
+about the drawings and pictures which he showed them.  His mind
+had gone beyond the parsonage front now, and he described to them
+the advantage of adding an extra ten feet to the church spire.
+
+Mandy felt herself almost an artist when she and Hasty bade the
+pastor good night, for she was still quivering from the contagion
+of Douglas's enthusiasm.  Here, at last, was a master who could
+do something besides find fault with her.
+
+"I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat Mars Douglas
+and dat ere Deacon Strong clinches," she said to Hasty as they
+locked the doors and turned out the hall light.  "Did yuh done
+see his jaw?" she whispered.  "He look laughin' enough NOW, but
+jes' yuh wait till he done set dat'ere jaw a his'n and afar ain't
+nobody what's goin' ter unsot it."
+
+"Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin'," said Hasty, hoping
+for Mandy's assurance to the contrary.
+
+"What?" shrieked Mandy.  "Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby
+already a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin'
+proper?"
+
+"Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere widow?" asked
+Hasty, already enjoying the explosion which he knew his defence
+of the widow was sure to excite.
+
+"I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 'bout her clean
+floors," answered Mandy, shortly.  She turned out the last light,
+and tiptoed upstairs, trying not to disturb the pastor.
+
+John Douglas was busy already with pencil and paper, making notes
+of the plans for the church and parsonage, which he would perfect
+later on.  Alas, for Douglas's day dreams! It was not many weeks
+before he understood with a heavy heart that the deacons were far
+too dull and uninspired to share his faith in beauty as an aid to
+man's spiritual uplift.
+
+"We think we've done pretty well by this church," said Deacon
+Strong, who was the business head, the political boss, and the
+moral mentor of the small town's affairs.  "Just you worry along
+with the preachin', young man, and we'll attend to the buyin' and
+buildin' operations."
+
+Douglas's mind was too active to content itself wholly with the
+writing of sermons and the routine of formal, pastoral calls.  He
+was a keen humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be
+interested in the heart stories and disappointments of many of
+the village unfortunates, some of whom were outside his
+congregation.  The mentally sick, the despondent, who needed
+words of hope and courage more than dry talks on theology, found
+in him an ever ready friend and adviser, and these came to love
+and depend on him.  But he was never popular with the creed-
+bound element of the church.
+
+Mandy had her wish about being on the spot the first time that
+the parson's jaw squared itself at Deacon Strong.  The deacon had
+called at the parsonage to demand that Douglas put a stop to the
+boys playing baseball in the adjoining lot on Sunday.  Douglas
+had been unable to see the deacon's point of view.  He declared
+that baseball was a healthy and harmless form of exercise, that
+the air was meant to be breathed, and that the boys who enjoyed
+the game on Sunday were principally those who were kept indoors
+by work on other days.  The close of the interview was
+unsatisfactory both to Douglas and the deacon.
+
+"Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up an' down de back,"
+Mandy said later, when she described their talk to Hasty.  "Dat
+'ere deacon don' know nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson." 
+She tossed her head with a feeling of superiority.  She knew the
+way.  Make him forget himself with a laugh.  Excite his sympathy
+with some village underdog.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+MANDY had secretly enjoyed the commotion caused by the little
+circus-rider being left in the parsonage, at first, because of
+her inborn love of mischief, and later, because Polly had become
+second in her heart only to the pastor.  She went about her work,
+crooning softly during the days of Polly's convalescence.  The
+deep, steady voice of the pastor reading aloud in the pretty
+window overhead was company.  She would often climb the stairs to
+tell them some bit of village gossip, and leave them laughing at
+a quaint comment about some inquisitive sister of the church, who
+had happened to incur her displeasure.
+
+As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly down to the sun-lit
+garden beneath the window; and Mandy fluttered about arranging
+the cushions with motherly solicitude.
+
+More days slipped by, and Polly began to creep through the
+little, soft-leaved trees at the back of the church, and to look
+for the deep, blue, sweet-scented violets.  When she was able,
+Douglas took her with him to visit some of the outlying houses of
+the poor.  Her woman's instinct was quick to perceive many small
+needs in their lives that he had overlooked, and to suggest
+simple, inexpensive joys that made them her devoted friends.
+
+Their evenings were divided between making plans for these
+unfortunates and reading aloud from the Bible or other books.
+
+When Polly gained courage, Douglas sometimes persuaded her to
+read to him--and the little corrections that he made at these
+times soon became noticeable in her manner of speech.  She was so
+eager, so starved for knowledge, that she drank it as fast as he
+could give it.  It was during their talks about grammar that
+Mandy generally fell asleep in her rocker, her unfinished sewing
+still in her lap.
+
+When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was always shared
+equally by Mandy and Hasty, Polly and the pastor.  But at last a
+letter came from Jim only, and Douglas, who was asked to read it,
+faltered and stopped after the first few words.
+
+"It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any longer, Poll," the
+letter began, "we ain't got Toby with us no more.  He didn't have
+no accident, it wasn't that.  He just seemed kinder sick and
+ailin' like, ever since the night we had to leave you behind.  I
+used to get him warm drinks and things, and try to pull 'im
+through, but he was always a-chillin' and a-achin'.  If it wasn't
+one thing the matter, it was another.  I done all I knowed you'd
+a-wanted me to, an' the rest of the folks was mighty white to
+him, too.  I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he was.  He
+couldn't get no more laughs in the show, so Barker had to put on
+another man with him.  That kinder hurt him too--I s'pose--an'
+showed him the way that things was a-goin'.  It was just after
+that, he wrote the parson a-tellin' him to never let you come
+back.  He seemed to a' got an idee in his head that you was
+happier where you was.  He wouldn't let me tell ye 'bout his
+feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might mebbe make you come
+back.  'She's diff'runt from us,' he was allus a-sayin'.  'I
+never 'spected to keep 'er.' "
+
+Douglas stopped.  Polly was waiting, her face white and drawn. 
+He had not told her of Toby's letter, because with it had come a
+request to "say nothin' to the kid."
+
+He felt that Polly was controlling herself with an effort until
+he should reach the end of Jim's letter, so he hurried on.
+
+"The parson's promise didn't get to him none too quick," he read. 
+"That seemed to be what he was waitin' for.  He give up the night
+it come, and I got him a little room in a hotel after the show,
+and let one of the other fellers get the stuff out o' town, so's
+I could stay with him up to the finish.  It come 'round mornin'. 
+There wasn't much to it--he just seemed tired and peaceful like. 
+'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' he said, meanin' the parson. 
+'She knows, she allus knows,' he whispered, meanin' you, Poll,
+and then he was on his way.  He'd already give me what was saved
+up for you, and I'm sendin' it along with this--" A blue money
+order for two hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from the
+envelope when Douglas opened it.
+
+"I got everythin' ready afore I went on the next day, an' I went
+up and saw the little spot on the hill where they was goin' to
+stow him.  It looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said she'd
+put some flowers on to it now and then.  It was YOU what made me
+think o' that, Poll, 'cause it seemed to me what you would a'
+done; you was always so daffy about flowers, you and him.
+
+"I guess this letter's too long for me to be a-sayin' much about
+the show, but the 'Leap- a-Death' girl got hern last week.  She
+wasn't strong enough for the job, nohow.  I done what I could for
+her outside the show, 'cause I knowed how you was always
+a-feelin' 'bout her.  I guess the 'Leap-a-Death's' husband is
+goin' to jump his job soon, if he gets enough saved up, 'cause
+him and Barker can't hit it off no more.  We got a good deal o'
+trouble among the animals, too.  None o' the snakes is sheddin'
+like they ought to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot bandage
+around that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too fresh with Trixy's
+grub the other night, and the new giraffe's got the croup in that
+seven-foot neck o' his'n.  I guess you'll think I got the pip for
+fair this time, so I'll just get onto myself now and cut this
+short.  I'll be writin' you agin when we hit Morgantown.          
+                   "Your old Muvver Jim."
+
+
+Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still
+resting upon it.  He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken
+figure in the opposite chair.  Polly had made no sound, but her
+head had slipped lower and lower and she now sat very quietly
+with her face in her hands.  She had been taught by Toby and Jim
+never to whimper.
+
+"What a plucky lot they are," thought Douglas, as he considered
+these three lonely souls, each accepting whatever fate brought
+with no rebellion or even surprise.  It was a strange world of
+stoics in which these children of the amusement arena fought and
+lost.  They came and went like phantoms, with as little
+consciousness of their own best interests as of the great, moving
+powers of the world about them.  They felt no throes of envy, no
+bitterness.  They loved and worked and "went their way."
+
+For once the pastor was powerless in the presence of grief.  Both
+he and Mandy left the room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to
+be spared the outburst of tears that a sympathetic word might
+bring upon her.  They allowed her to remain alone for a time,
+then Mandy entered softly with a tender good night and Douglas
+followed her cheerily as though nothing at all had happened.
+
+It was many weeks before Polly again became a companion to
+Douglas and Mandy, but they did not intrude upon her grief.  They
+waited patiently for the time when youth should again assert
+itself, and bring back their laughing mate to them.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+When Polly understood that Toby was ACTUALLY GONE, it seemed to
+her that she could never laugh again.  She had been too young to
+realise the inevitableness of death when it came to her mother,
+and now she could scarcely believe that Toby would never, never
+come back to her.  She felt that she must be able to DRAG him
+back, that she could not go on without him.  She wanted to tell
+him how grateful she was for all his care of her.  She thought of
+the thousand little things that she might have done for him.  She
+longed to recall every impatient word to him.  His gentle
+reproachful eyes were always haunting her.  "You must come back,
+Toby!" she cried.  "You must!"
+
+It was only when body and mind had worn themselves out with
+yearning, that a numbness at last crept over her, and out of this
+grew a gradual consciousness of things about her and a returning
+sense of her obligation to others.  She tried to answer in her
+old, smiling way and to keep her mind upon what they were saying,
+instead of letting it wander away to the past.
+
+Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the colour creeping back
+to her cheeks.
+
+She joined the pastor again in his visits to the poor.  The women
+of the town would often see them passing and would either whisper
+to each other, shrug their shoulders, or lift their eyebrows with
+smiling insinuations; but Polly and the pastor were too much
+absorbed in each other to take much notice of what was going on
+about them.
+
+They had not gone for their walk to-day, because Mandy had needed
+Polly to help make ready for the social to be held in the Sunday-
+school-room to-night.
+
+Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas shut himself up in
+the study, and she was sure that he was writing; so when the
+village children stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's
+new-made cookies, she used her customary trick to get them away. 
+"Tag--you're it!" she cried, and then dashed out the back door,
+pursued by the laughing, screaming youngsters.  Mandy followed
+the children to the porch and stood looking after them, as the
+mad, little band scurried about the back yard, darted in and out
+amongst the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just
+beyond the church.
+
+The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day
+the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer
+dresses.  Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by
+comparison with the children about her.  She wore a plain, simple
+gown of white, which Mandy had helped her to make.  It had been
+cut ankle- length, for Polly was now seventeen.  Her quaint,
+old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her trick of knotting
+her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem older.
+
+Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill,
+then began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty
+had left under the vines of the porch.  It had been a busy day at
+the parsonage.  A social always meant perturbation for Mandy. 
+She called sharply to Hasty, as he came down the path which made
+a short cut to the village:
+
+"So's you'se back, is you?" she asked, sarcastically.
+
+"Sure, I'se back," answered Hasty, good- naturedly, as he sank
+upon an empty box that had held some things for the social, and
+pretended to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
+
+"Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago," said
+Mandy, as she took the letters and papers from his hand.  "Five
+minutes is plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job."
+
+"I done been detained," Hasty drawled.
+
+"You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on," Mandy
+snapped at him.
+
+"Whar's Miss Polly?" Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to
+work.
+
+"Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly.  She don't want you.  Jes' you
+done fetch that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room."
+
+"But I wants her," Hasty insisted.  "I'se been on very 'ticular
+business what she ought to know 'bout."
+
+"Business?" she repeated.  "What kind ob business?"
+
+"I got to fix de Sunday-school-room," said Hasty, as he perceived
+her growing curiosity.
+
+"You come heah, nigger!" Mandy called, determined that none of
+the village doings should escape her.  "Out wid it!"
+
+"Well, it's 'bout de circus," Hasty answered? seating himself
+again on the box.  "Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next
+month dey's comin' here."
+
+"Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?" Mandy's eyes
+grew large with curiosity.
+
+"De very same," and Hasty nodded mysteriously.
+
+"How you know dat?" Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him.
+
+" 'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show
+painted on it.  It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all
+de pictures what dey pastes up."
+
+"And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?"
+
+"I done thought Miss Polly might want to know."
+
+"See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions
+into Miss Polly's head.  She don' care no more 'bout dem things
+since her Uncle Toby done die.  She done been satisfied right
+whar she am.  Jes' you let her be."
+
+"I ain't done nothin'," Hasty protested.
+
+"Nebber do do nothin'," growled Mandy.  "Go long now, and get
+a-work.  Mos' four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready
+yet."
+
+Hasty picked up the empty box and the step- ladder and went out
+through the gate.  He had barely disappeared when a peal of
+laughter was heard from the hillside, and before Mandy could get
+out of the way, the youngsters came tumbling down the path again.
+
+"Lawsy, lawsy," she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging
+the children.  "You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey."
+
+"Tag! you're it!" Polly cried, as she touched the widow's
+auburn-haired offspring on the sleeve.  There was much wailing
+when Willie passed the tag to little Jennie, the smallest girl in
+the crowd.
+
+"I won't play no more," she sobbed; " 'cause I's always it."
+
+To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old circus song that the
+children had learned to love; and the little ones huddled about
+her in a circle to hear of the wonderful "Van Amberg" who used to
+"walk right into the lion's cage and put his head in the lion's
+mouth."  The children were in a state of nerves that did credit
+to Polly as an entertainer, when Hasty broke in upon the song.
+
+"When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'."
+
+"I have one right now."  And turning to the eager mites at her
+side, Polly told them to run along into the grove, and that she'd
+come pretty soon to teach them a new game.
+
+The youngsters went screaming and laughing on their way, and she
+breathed a sigh of relief as she threw herself down on the rustic
+seat that encircled the elm tree.
+
+"What is it, Hasty?" she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble
+with Mandy.
+
+"It's 'bout de circus," Hasty informed her bluntly.
+
+"The circus?" She rose and crossed to him quickly.
+
+"It's in Wakefield--en' nex' month it's a-comin' here."
+
+"Here?" Polly gasped.
+
+"I thought you'd want ter know," said Hasty, little surprised at
+her lack of enthusiasm.
+
+"Yes, of course."  She turned away and pretended to look at the
+flowers.
+
+"Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus," said
+Hasty, uneasily.  He was beginning to fear that he had made a
+mistake; but before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the
+house, carrying baskets and food, which Hasty was to take to the
+Sunday-school-room.  She looked at the girl's troubled face and
+drooping shoulders in surprise.
+
+"What make you look so serious, Honey?"
+
+"Just thinking," said Polly absently.
+
+"My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!" She was anxious to
+draw the girl out of her reverie.
+
+"Do you like it?" Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression
+of a moment before.  "Do you think Mr.  John will like it?"
+
+"Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. 
+I done got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you
+think HE ebber seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin'
+roun' like Mudder Eve for all dat man know."  Polly looked
+disappointed.  "But udder folks sees," Mandy continued,
+comfortingly, "an' you certainly look mighty fine.  Why, you's
+just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!"
+
+"Yes, I'm well now and able to work again."  There was no
+enthusiasm in her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how
+unwelcome the old life would be to her.
+
+"Work! You does work all de time.  My stars! de help you is to
+Massa John."
+
+"Do you think so? Do I help him?-- Do I?"
+
+"Of course you does.  You tells him things to do in Sunday-school
+what the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy
+himself, an' a lot of things what nobody else could a-learned
+'im."
+
+"You mustn't say 'learned him,' " Polly corrected; "you must say
+'taught him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything.  You can only
+'teach' them."
+
+"Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat."  She rolled her large eyes at
+her young instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. 
+"She's gwine ter have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells" thought
+Mandy, and she made ready to protest.
+
+"See here, ain't you nebber----"
+
+She was interrupted by a quick "Have you never" from Polly.
+
+"It dun make no difference what you say," Mandy snapped, "so long
+as folks understands you."  She always grew restive under these
+ordeals; but Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered.
+
+"Oh, yes, it does," answered Polly.  "I used to think it didn't;
+but it does.  You have to say things in a certain way or folks
+look down on you."
+
+"I's satisfied de way I be," declared Mandy, as she plumped
+herself down on the garden bench and began to fidget with
+resentment.
+
+"The way I am," Polly persisted, sweetly.
+
+"See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an'
+keepin de light burnin'?"
+
+"You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens
+set----"
+
+"So do I," interrupted Mandy; "I's doin' it NOW."  For a time she
+preserved an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. 
+"If I had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open
+my mouth, I'd done been tongue-tied afore I was born."
+
+"I could teach you in no time," volunteered Polly, eagerly.
+
+"I don't want to be teached," protested Mandy, doggedly.  "Hast
+Jones says I's too smart anyhow.  Men don't like women knowin'
+too much-- it skeers 'em.  I's good enough for my old man, and I
+ain't a-tryin' to get nobody else's," Mandy wound up flatly.
+
+"But he'd like you all the better," persisted Polly, laughing.
+
+"I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO nigger," snapped Mandy. 
+"I's a busy woman, I is."  She made for the house, then curiosity
+conquered her and she came back to Polly's side.  "See here,
+honey, whose been l'arnin' you all dem nonsense?"
+
+"I learn from Mr.  Douglas.  I remember all the things he tells
+me, and at night I write them down and say them over.  Do you see
+this, Mandy?" She took a small red book from her belt and put it
+into Mandy's black chubby fists.
+
+"I see some writin', if dat's what you mean," Mandy answered,
+helplessly.
+
+"These are my don'ts," Polly confided, as she pointed
+enthusiastically to worn pages of finely written notes.
+
+"You'se WHAT, chile?"
+
+"The things I mustn't do or say."
+
+"An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?" Mandy
+looked incredulous.
+
+"I don't want Mr.  John to feel ashamed of me," she said with
+growing pride.
+
+"Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for----"
+
+"Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?" Polly pointed reproachfully
+to the reminder in the little red book.  It was a fortunate thing
+that Willie interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's
+temper was becoming very uncertain.  The children had grown weary
+waiting for Polly, and Willie had been sent to fetch her.  Polly
+offered to help Mandy with the decorations, but Willie won the
+day, and she was running away hand in hand with him when Douglas
+came out of the house.
+
+"Wait a minute!" he called.  "My, how fine you look!" He turned
+Polly about and surveyed the new gown admiringly.
+
+"He did see it! He did see it!" cried Polly, gleefully.
+
+"Of course I did.  I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?"
+
+"You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come," Mandy grunted.
+
+"Come, Willie!" called the girl, and ran out laughing through the
+trees.
+
+"What's this?" Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward
+fingers, and began to read:  'Hens set--' " He frowned.
+
+"Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,' " interrupted Mandy,
+disgustedly.
+
+"Her 'don'ts'?"
+
+"She done been set--sit--settin' up nights tryin' to learn what
+you done tole her," stuttered Mandy.
+
+"Dear little Polly," he murmured, then closed the book and put it
+into his pocket.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby
+came through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage,
+carrying bunting for the social.  She was followed by Miss
+Perkins with a bucket of pickles, which Mandy promptly placed on
+top of Mrs.  Elverson's ice cream.  The women explained that they
+had come to put the finishing touches to the decorations.  If
+anything was needed to increase Mandy's dislike of the widow, it
+was this announcement.
+
+Mrs.  Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not
+been home since the afternoon school session.  Upon learning that
+they were with Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and
+Douglas dispatched Mandy for them.  She saw that her implied
+distrust of Polly had annoyed him, and she was about to
+apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on the scene, also
+carrying baskets and parcels for the social.
+
+Strong led the way.  He always led the way and always told
+Elverson what to think.  They had been talking excitedly as they
+neared the parsonage, for Strong disapproved of the recent
+changes which the pastor had made in the church service.  He and
+Douglas had clashed more than once since the baseball argument,
+and the deacon had realised more and more that he had met a will
+quite as strong as his own.  His failure to bend the parson to
+his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his mind
+from his business.
+
+"Can you beat that!" he would exclaim as he turned away from some
+disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.
+
+Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in
+her direction as she came running into the garden, leading the
+widow's two children.
+
+She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the
+gate, then hurried to Mrs.  Willoughby, begging that the children
+be allowed to remain a little longer.  She was making up a new
+game, she said, and needed Willie and Jennie for the set.
+
+"My children do not play in promiscuous games," said the widow,
+icily.
+
+"Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro"--Polly stammered.  "It's a new
+game.  You put two here, and two here, and----"
+
+"I don't care to know."  The widow turned away, and pretended to
+talk to Julia.
+
+"Oh!" gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff.
+
+She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle.  The blood
+flew from her cheeks, then she turned to go.
+
+Douglas stepped quickly to her side.  "Wait a minute," he said. 
+She paused, all eyes were turned upon them.  "Is this a game that
+grown- ups can play?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course."
+
+"Good! Then I'll make up your set.  I need a little amusement
+just now.  Excuse me," he added, turning to the deacons.  Then he
+ran with her out through the trees.
+
+The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast.
+
+"Well, what do you think of that?" said Mrs.  Willoughby, as the
+flying skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man
+disappeared up the path.
+
+"I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me," said Miss
+Perkins.  "The idea of a full- grown parson a-runnin' off to play
+children's games with a circus ridin' girl!"
+
+"She isn't such a child," sneered Julia.
+
+"It's ENOUGH to make folks talk," put in Mrs.  Willoughby, with a
+sly look at the deacons.
+
+"And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service," bellowed
+Strong.
+
+"And me a-waiting to give him Mrs.  Elverson's message," piped
+Elverson.
+
+"The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was
+sick," snapped Miss Perkins.  "But now she's perfectly well, and
+still a-hanging on.  No wonder folks are talking."
+
+"Who's talking?" thundered Strong.
+
+"Didn't you know?" simpered Mrs.  Willoughby, not knowing herself
+nor caring, so long as the suspicion grew.
+
+"Know what?" yelled the excited deacon.  Mrs.  Willoughby
+floundered.  Miss Perkins rushed into the breach.
+
+"Well, if _I_ was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know
+something about what's going on in it."
+
+"What IS goin' on?" shrieked the now desperate deacon.
+
+The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged knowing glances,
+then shook their heads at his hopeless stupidity.
+
+Strong was not accustomed to criticism.  He prided himself upon
+his acuteness, and was, above all, vain about his connection with
+the church.  He looked from one woman to the other.  He was
+seething with helpless rage.  The little deacon at his side
+coughed nervously.  Strong's pent up wrath exploded.  "Why didn't
+YOU tell me, Elverson, that people was a-talkin'," he roared in
+the frightened man's ear.
+
+Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing definite came of
+the sounds; so Strong again turned to Miss Perkins:
+
+"What is going on?" he demanded.
+
+The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes
+heavenward, knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as
+this mysterious inference of things too terrible to mention.  She
+was right.  Strong uttered a desperate "Bah!" and began pacing up
+and down the garden with reckless strides.
+
+Mrs.  Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he
+came to a halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering
+sweetness.
+
+"What COULD folks say?" she asked.  "A minister and a young
+circus riding girl living here like this with no one to--" She
+found no words at this point and Strong, now thoroughly roused,
+declared that the congregation should have no further cause for
+gossip, and went out quickly in search of Douglas.
+
+When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the
+women, and attempted a weak apology for the pastor.  "I dare say
+the young man was very lonely--very--before she came."
+
+"Lonely?" snapped Miss Perkins.  "Well, if HE was LONELY, _I_
+didn't know it."
+
+The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong.
+
+The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland
+smiles to the Sunday-school- room, feeling that they had
+accomplished enough for the time being.
+
+Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the
+pastor.  They turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld
+Douglas, hatless, tearing down the path.  Strong called to him,
+but Douglas darted quickly behind the hedge.  The deacons looked
+at one another in speechless astonishment.  Presently the silence
+was broken by the distant voice of Polly counting from one to one
+hundred.  The secret was out! The pastor, a leader of the church,
+was playing hide-and-seek.
+
+"Mr.  Douglas!" shouted Strong, when his breath had returned.
+
+"Hush, hush!" whispered Douglas, looking over the hedge.  He
+peeped cautiously about him, then came toward the men with a sigh
+of relief.  "It's all right.  She has gone the other way."
+
+"It'll be a good thing for you if she never comes back," said
+Strong, and Douglas's quick ear caught an unpleasant meaning in
+his tone.
+
+"What's that?" the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice.
+
+"We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I
+want to talk to you about 'em."
+
+"Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key."
+
+"Never mind about the key," shouted Strong, angrily.
+
+"But I DO mind."  Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his
+voice.
+
+"We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay
+here?"
+
+"Indeed! And why?" The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his
+jaw was becoming very square.
+
+"Because she's been here long enough."
+
+"I don't agree with you there."
+
+"Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not.  She's
+got to go."
+
+"Go?" echoed Douglas.
+
+"Yes, sir-e-bob.  We've made up our minds to that."
+
+"And who do you mean by 'we'?"
+
+"The members of this congregation," replied Strong, impatiently.
+
+"Am I to understand that YOU are speaking for THEM?" There was a
+deep frown between the young pastor's eyes.  He was beginning to
+be perplexed.
+
+"Yes, and as deacon of this church."
+
+"Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me
+that that is MY affair."
+
+"Your affair!" shouted Strong.  "When that girl is living under
+the church's roof, eating the church's bread!"
+
+"Just one moment! You don't quite understand.  I am minister of
+this church, and for that position I receive, or am supposed to
+receive, a salary to live on, and this parsonage, rent free, to
+live in.  Any guests that I may have here are MY guests, and NOT
+guests of the church.  Remember that, please."
+
+There was an embarrassing silence.  The deacons recalled that the
+pastor's salary WAS slightly in arrears.  Elverson coughed
+meekly.  Strong started.
+
+"You keep out of this, Elverson!" he cried.  "I'm running this
+affair and I ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's."
+
+"I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it," answered Douglas,
+turning away and dismissing the matter.
+
+"Your duty is to your church," thundered Strong.
+
+"You're right about that, Deacon Strong'" answered Douglas,
+wheeling about sharply, "and my duty to the church is reason
+enough for my acting exactly as I am doing in this case."
+
+"Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl
+here?"
+
+"No, there are other reasons."
+
+"I thought so."
+
+"You've heard her story--you MUST have heard.  She was left with
+me by an old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. 
+Before he died he asked me to look after her.  She has no one
+else.  I shall certainly do so."
+
+"That was when she was hurt.  She's well now, and able to go back
+where she came from.  Do you expect us to have our young folks
+associatin' with a circus ridin' girl?"
+
+"So, that's it!" cried the pastor, with a pitying look.  "You
+think this child is unfit for your homes because she was once in
+a circus.  For some reason, circus to you spells crime.  You call
+yourself a Christian, Deacon Strong, and yet you insist that I
+send a good, innocent girl back to a life which you say is
+sinful.  I'm ashamed of you, Strong--I'm ashamed of you!"
+
+"That talk don't do no good with me," roared Strong.  He was
+desperate at being accused of an unchristian attitude.
+
+"I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus.  I don't care
+WHERE you send her.  Get her away from HERE, that's all."
+
+"Not so long as she wishes to stay."
+
+"You won't?" Strong saw that he must try a new attack.  He came
+close to Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation.  "If you
+was a friend to the girl, you wouldn't want the whole
+congregation a-pointin' fingers at her."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks
+bad--bad for the girl, and bad for YOU--and folks is talkin'."
+
+"Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough
+to think that I--" Douglas stopped.  He could not frame the
+question.  "I don't believe it," he concluded shortly.
+
+"You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl."
+
+"Do YOU believe it?" He turned upon the little man at his side!
+"Do you believe it, Elverson?"
+
+Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the
+conversation, that he had become hopelessly lost as the
+discussion went on, and the sudden appeal to him all but
+paralysed his power of speech.  He was still gurgling and
+sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.
+
+"It makes no difference whether we believe it or not.  We're
+going to do our duty by the church, and that girl must leave
+or----"
+
+"Or I must."  Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. 
+"That threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon.  After what you
+have said, I should refuse to remain in this church"-- the deacon
+stepped forward eagerly--"were it not that I realise more than
+ever before how much you need me, how much you ignorant, narrow-
+minded creatures need to be taught the meaning of true
+Christianity."  The deacon was plainly disappointed.
+
+"Is it possible?" gasped Elverson, weakly.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Strong, when he
+could trust himself to speak again.
+
+"I shall do what is best for Miss Polly," said the pastor quietly
+but firmly.
+
+He turned away to show that the interview was at an end.  Strong
+followed him.  Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to
+be mistaken.  "Good afternoon, deacon."
+
+Strong hesitated.  He looked at the pastor, then at the gate,
+then at the pastor again.  "I'll go," he shouted; "but it ain't
+the end!" He slammed the gate behind him.
+
+"Quite so, quite so," chirped Elverson, not having the slightest
+idea of what he was saying.  He saw the frigid expression on the
+pastor's face, he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+Douglas dropped wearily onto the rustic bench.  He sat with
+drooped head and unseeing eyes.  He did not hear Polly as she
+scurried down the path, her arms filled with autumn leaves.  She
+glanced at him, dropped the bright-coloured foliage, and slipped
+quickly to the nearest tree.  "One, two, three for Mr.  John,"
+she cried, as she patted the huge, brown trunk.
+
+"Is that you, Polly?" he asked absently.
+
+"Now, it's your turn to catch me," she said, lingering near the
+tree.  The pastor was again lost in thought.  "Aren't you going
+to play any more?" There was a shade of disappointment in her
+voice.  She came slowly to his side.
+
+"Sit here, Polly," he answered gravely, pointing to a place on
+the bench.  "I want to talk to you."
+
+"Now, I've done something wrong," she pouted.  She gathered up
+her garlands and brought them to a place near his feet, ignoring
+the seat at his side.  "You might just as well tell me and get it
+over."
+
+"You couldn't do anything wrong," he answered, looking down at
+her.
+
+"Oh, yes, I could--and I've done it--I can see it in your face. 
+What is it?"
+
+"What have you there?" he asked, trying to gain time, and not
+knowing how to broach the subject that in justice to her must be
+discussed.
+
+"Some leaves to make garlands for the social," Polly answered
+more cheerfully.  "Would you mind holding this?" She gave him one
+end of a string of leaves.
+
+"Where are the children?"
+
+"Gone home."
+
+"You like the children very much, don't you, Polly?" Douglas was
+striving for a path that might lead them to the subject that was
+troubling him.
+
+"Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them."  She looked at him with
+tender eyes.
+
+"You're the greatest baby of all."  A puzzled line came between
+his eyes as he studied her more closely.  "And yet, you're not
+such a child, are you, Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a
+young lady."  He looked at her from a strange, unwelcome point of
+view.  She was all of that as she sat at his feet, yearning and
+slender and fair, at the turning of her seventeenth year.
+
+"I wonder how you would like to go way?" Her eyes met his in
+terror.  "Away to a great school," he added quickly, flinching
+from the very first hurt that he had inflicted; "where there are
+a lot of other young ladies."
+
+"Is it a place where you would be?" She looked up at him
+anxiously.  She wondered if his "show" was about to "move on."
+
+"I'm afraid not," Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy
+heart.
+
+"I wouldn't like any place without you," she said decidedly, and
+seemed to consider the subject dismissed.
+
+"But if it was for your GOOD," Douglas persisted.
+
+"It could never be for my good to leave you."
+
+"But just for a little while," he pleaded.  How was she ever to
+understand? How could he take from her the sense of security that
+he had purposely taught her to feel in his house?
+
+"Not even for a moment," Polly answered, with a decided shake of
+her head.
+
+"But you must get ahead in your studies," he argued.
+
+She looked at him anxiously.  She was beginning to be alarmed at
+his persistence.
+
+"Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games."
+
+"Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous."
+
+"Pro-mis-cuous," she repeated, haltingly.  "What does that mean?"
+
+"Indiscriminate."  He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled
+look on her face.  "Mixed up," he explained, more simply.
+
+"Our game wasn't mixed up."  She was thinking of the one to which
+the widow had objected.  "Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?"
+
+"It depends upon whom you catch," he answered with a dry,
+whimsical smile.
+
+"Well, I don't catch anybody but the children."  She looked up at
+him with serious, inquiring eyes.
+
+"Never mind, Polly.  Your games aren't promiscuous."  She did not
+hear him.  She was searching for her book.
+
+"Is this what you are looking for?" he asked, drawing the missing
+article from his pocket.
+
+"Oh!" cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment.  "Mandy told
+you."
+
+"You've been working a long time on that."
+
+"I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me,"
+she answered, timidly.  "But I don't suppose I could."
+
+"I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly."
+
+"Do I?" she cried, eagerly.
+
+"I can help more if you will only let me.  I can teach a bigger
+class in Sunday-school now.  I got to the book of Ruth to-day."
+
+"You did?" He pretended to be astonished.  He was anxious to
+encourage her enthusiasm.
+
+"Um hum!" She answered solemnly.  A dreamy look came into her
+eyes.  "Do you remember the part that you read to me the first
+day I came?" He nodded.  He was thinking how care-free they were
+that day.  How impossible such problems as the present one would
+have seemed then.  "I know every bit of what you read by heart. 
+It's our next Sunday-school lesson."
+
+"So it is."
+
+"Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?" She
+looked up into his troubled face.
+
+"We'll see, we'll see," he murmured, then tried to turn her mind
+toward other things.  "Come now, let's find out whether you DO
+know your Sunday-school lesson.  How does it begin?" There was no
+answer.  She had turned away with trembling lips.  "And Ruth
+said"--he took her two small hands and drew her face toward him,
+meaning to prompt her.
+
+"Entreat me not to leave thee," she pleaded.  Her eyes met his. 
+His face was close to hers.  The small features before him were
+quivering with emotion.  She was so frail, so helpless, so easily
+within his grasp.  His muscles grew tense and his lips closed
+firmly.  He was battling with an impulse to draw her toward him
+and comfort her in the shelter of his strong, brave arms.  "They
+shan't!" he cried, starting toward her.
+
+Polly drew back, overawed.  Her soul had heard and seen the
+things revealed to each of us only once.  She would never again
+be a child.
+
+Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench.
+
+"What was the rest of the lesson?" he asked in a firm, hard
+voice.
+
+"I can't say it now," Polly murmured.  Her face was averted; her
+white lids fluttered and closed.
+
+"Nonsense, of course you can.  Come, come, I'll help you." 
+Douglas spoke sharply.  He was almost vexed with her and with
+himself for the weakness that was so near overcoming them.  "And
+Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to leave thee----' "
+
+" 'Or to return from following after thee.' " She was struggling
+to keep back the tears.  " 'For whither thou goest, I will go,
+and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.  Thy people shall be my
+people, and thy God my' "-- She stopped.
+
+"That's right, go on," said Douglas, striving to control the
+unsteadiness in his own voice.
+
+"Where thou diest, will I die' "--her arms went out blindly.
+
+"Oh, you won't send me away, will you?" she sobbed.  "I don't
+want to learn anything else just--except--from you."  She covered
+her face and slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet.
+
+In an instant the pastor's strong arms were about her, his
+stalwart body was supporting her.  "You shan't go away.  I won't
+let you--I won't! Do you hear me, Polly? I won't!"
+
+Her breath was warm against his cheek.  He could feel her tears,
+her arms about him, as she clung to him helplessly, sobbing and
+quivering in the shelter of his strong embrace.  You are never
+going to leave me--never!"
+
+A new purpose had come into his life, the realisation of a new
+necessity, and he knew that the fight which he must henceforth
+make for this child was the same that he must make for himself.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI
+
+"I'se goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take off dat ere
+widow's finishin' touches," said Mandy, as she came down the
+steps.
+
+"All right!" called Douglas.  "Take these with you, perhaps they
+may help."  He gathered up the garlands which Polly had left on
+the ground.  His eyes were shining, he looked younger than Mandy
+had ever seen him.
+
+Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and
+crossed to the elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying
+to control her newly awakened emotions.  Douglas felt intuitively
+that she needed this moment for recovery, so he piled the leaves
+and garlands high in Mandy's arms, then ran into the house with
+the light step of a boy.
+
+"I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up," said Mandy as she
+shot a sly glance at Polly.
+
+"That's good," Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling
+and blushing guiltily.
+
+"Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de
+parsonage to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room,
+whar dey belongs.  Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set
+aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin' de parson as how folks could jes'
+eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I ups an' tells her as how folks
+could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n MANDY'S floor, too. 
+Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore Mandy
+to-night."  She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the
+Sunday-school- room.
+
+Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her.  She hardly knew
+which way to turn.  She was happy, yet afraid.  She felt like
+sinking upon her knees and begging God to be good to her, to help
+her.  She who had once been so independent, so self-reliant, now
+felt the need of direction from above.  She was no longer master
+of her own soul, something had gone from her, something that
+would never, never come again.  While she hesitated, Hasty came
+through the gate looking anxiously over his shoulder.
+
+"Well, Hasty?" she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had
+something important on his mind.
+
+"It's de big one from de circus," he whispered, excitedly.
+
+"The big one?"
+
+"You know-- De one what brung you."
+
+"You don't mean--?" Polly's question was answered by Jim himself
+who had followed Hasty quickly through the gate.  Their arms were
+instantly about each other.  Jim forgot Hasty and every one in
+the world except Polly, and neither of them noticed the horrified
+Miss Perkins and the Widow Willoughby, who had been crossing the
+yard on their way from the Sunday- school-room with Julia.
+
+"You're just as big as ever," said Polly, when she could let go
+of Jim long enough to look at him.  "You haven't changed a bit."
+
+"You've changed enough for both of us."  He looked at the
+unfamiliar long skirts and the new way of doing her hair. 
+"You're bigger, Poll; more grown up like."
+
+"Oh, Jim!" She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the
+rather startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's
+buttonhole.
+
+"The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if I was a-comin' to
+see you, so as not to make you ashamed of me.  Do you like 'em?"
+he asked, looking down approvingly at his new brown clothes.
+
+"Very much."  For the first time Jim noticed the unfamiliar
+manner of her speech.  He began to feel self-conscious.  A year
+ago she would have said, "You bet!" He looked at her awkwardly. 
+She hurried on:  "Hasty told me you were showing in Wakefield.  I
+knew you'd come to see me.  How's Barker and all the boys?" She
+stopped with a catch in her throat, and added more slowly:  "I
+suppose everything's different, now that Toby is gone."
+
+"He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in," Jim answered;
+"but maybe it was just as well he didn't.  You'd hardly a-knowed
+him toward the last, he got so thin an' peeked like.  He wasn't
+the same after we lost you, nobody was, not even Bingo."
+
+"Have you still got Bingo?" she asked, through her tears.
+
+"Yep, we got him," drawled Jim, "but he ain't much good no more. 
+None of the other riders can get used to his gait like you was. 
+There ain't nobody with the show what can touch you ridin', there
+never will be.  Say, mebbe you think Barker won't let out a yell
+when he sees yer comin' back."  Jim was jubilant now, and he let
+out a little yell of his own at the mere thought of her return. 
+He was too excited to notice the look on Polly's face.  "Toby had
+a notion before he died that you was never a-comin' back, but I
+told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, and when Barker
+sent me over here to-day to look arter the advertisin', he said
+he guessed you'd had all you wanted a' church folks.  'Jes' you
+bring her along to Wakefield,' he said, 'an' tell her that her
+place is waitin' for her,' and I will, too."  He turned upon
+Polly with sudden decision.  "Why, I feel jes' like pickin' yer
+up in my arms and carryin' you right off now."
+
+"Wait, Jim!" She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him.
+
+"I don't mean--not--to-day--mebbe"--he stammered, uncertainly,
+"but we'll be back here a-showin' next month."
+
+"Don't look at me now," Polly answered, as the dog-like eyes
+searched her face, "because I have to say something that is going
+to hurt you, Jim."
+
+"You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?" The big face was wrinkled and
+care-worn with trouble.
+
+"No, Jim," she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely
+hear her.
+
+"You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?" He tried to realise
+what such a decision might mean to him.
+
+"No, Jim."  She answered tenderly, for she dreaded the pain that
+she must cause the great, good-hearted fellow.  "You mustn't care
+like that," she pleaded, seeing the blank desolation that had
+come into his face.  "It isn't because I don't love you just the
+same, and it was good of Barker to keep my place for me, but I
+can't go back."
+
+He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve.  "Why, Jim,
+when I lie in my little room up there at night"--she glanced
+toward the window above them--"and everything is peaceful and
+still, I think how it used to be in the old days, the awful noise
+and the rush of it all, the cheerless wagons, the mob in the
+tent, the ring with its blazing lights, the whirling round and
+round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops, till my head got
+dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the show, and
+the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble of
+the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the
+animals, and then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I
+riding through the streets in tights, Jim! Tights!" She covered
+her face to shut out the memory.  "I couldn't go back to it, Jim!
+I just couldn't!" She turned away, her face still hidden in her
+hands.  He looked at her a long while in silence.
+
+"I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it," he said
+doggedly.
+
+"You aren't ANGRY, Jim?" She turned to him anxiously, her eyes
+pleading for his forgiveness.
+
+"Angry?" he echoed, almost bitterly.  "I guess it couldn't ever
+come to that a-tween you an' me.  I'll be all right."  He
+shrugged his great shoulders.  "It's just kinder sudden, that's
+all.  You see, I never figured on givin' yer up, and when you
+said you wasn't comin' back, it kinder seemed as though I
+couldn't see nothin' all my life but long, dusty roads, and
+nobody in 'em.  But it's all right now, and I'll just be gettin'
+along to the wagon."
+
+"But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr.  Douglas," Polly protested,
+trying to keep him with her until she could think of some way to
+comfort him.
+
+"I'll look in on him comin' back," said Jim, anxious to be alone
+with his disappointment.  He was out of the gate before she could
+stop him.
+
+"Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you."  She
+watched him going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into
+his brown coat pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes.  He did
+not look back, as he used to do, to wave a parting farewell, and
+she turned toward the house with a troubled heart.  She had
+reached the lower step when Strong and Elverson approached her
+from the direction of the church.
+
+"Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?" demanded
+Strong.
+
+She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong
+assured her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop
+her if she wished to go.  He saw the blank look on her face.  "We
+ain't tryin' to pry into none of your private affairs," he
+explained; "but my daughter saw you and that there feller a
+makin' up to each other.  If you're calculatin' to run away with
+him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by doin' it
+quick."
+
+"The parson!"
+
+"YOU can't blame the congregation for not wantin' him to keep you
+here.  You got sense enough to see how it looks.  HE'D see it,
+too, if he wasn't just plain, bull-headed.  Well he'd better get
+over his stubbornness right now, if he don't we'll get another
+minister, that's all."
+
+"Another minister? You don't mean--?" It was clear enough now. 
+She recalled Douglas's troubled look of an hour ago.  She
+remembered how he had asked if she couldn't go away.  It was this
+that he meant when he promised not to give her up, no matter what
+happened.  In an instant she was at the deacon's side pleading
+and terrified.  "You wouldn't get another minister! Oh, please,
+Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! You were right about Jim, he
+DID come to get me and I am going back to the circus--only you
+won't send Mr.  Douglas away, you won't! Say you won't!" She was
+searching his eyes for mercy.  "It wasn't HIS fault that I kept
+staying on.  He didn't know how to get rid of me.  He DID try, he
+tried only to-day."
+
+"So he's comin' 'round," sneered Strong.
+
+"Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, will you?" she
+hurried on anxiously.  "You'll let him stay, no matter what he
+does, if I promise to go away and never, never come back again?"
+
+"I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him," Strong grumbled.  "He talks
+pretty rough sometimes, but he's been a good enough minister.  I
+ain't forgettin' that."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mr.  Strong, thank you.  I'll get my things; it
+won't take a minute."  She was running up the steps when a sudden
+thought stopped her.  She returned quickly to Strong.  "We'd
+better not let him know just yet.  You can tell him afterward. 
+Tell him that I ran away-- Tell him that----"
+
+She was interrupted by Douglas, who came from the house.  "Hello,
+Strong, back again?" he asked, in some surprise.  Polly remained
+with her eyes fixed upon the deacon, searching for some way of
+escape.  The pastor approached; she burst into nervous laughter. 
+"What's the joke?" Douglas asked.
+
+"It's only a little surprise that the deacon and I are planning." 
+She tried to control the catch in her voice.  "You'll know about
+it soon, won't he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr.  Strong!" She flew
+into the house, laughing hysterically.
+
+Douglas followed her to the steps with a puzzled frown.  It was
+unlike Polly to give way to her moods before others.  "Have you
+gentlemen changed your minds about the little girl staying on?"
+he asked, uneasily.
+
+"It's all right now," said Strong, seating himself with a
+complacent air.
+
+"All right? How so?" questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by
+the deacon's evident satisfaction.
+
+"Because," said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, "because
+your circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord."
+
+"Have you been talking to that girl?" asked Douglas, sternly.
+
+"I have," said Strong, holding his ground.
+
+"See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may
+forget that I'm a minister."  The knuckles on Douglas's large
+fists grew whiter.
+
+"She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said
+either.  She's goin' back to the circus."
+
+"I don't believe you."
+
+"You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just
+a-callin' on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and
+a-promisin' that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he come
+back."
+
+"You lie!" cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating
+deacon.
+
+"There's the fellow now," cried Strong, as he pointed to the
+gate.  "Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar."
+
+Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching.  His face lighted
+up with relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow.
+
+"How are yer, Mr.  Douglas?" said Jim, awkwardly.
+
+"You've seen Polly?" asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the
+hand.
+
+"Yes, I've seen her."
+
+"The deacon here has an idea that Polly is going back to the
+circus with you."  He nodded toward Strong, almost laughing at
+the surprise in store for him.
+
+"Back to the circus?" asked Jim.
+
+"Did she say anything to you about it?" He was worried by the
+bewilderment in Jim's manner.
+
+Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached the steps in time
+to catch the last few words, slipped quickly between them.  She
+wore her coat and hat, and carried a small brown satchel.
+
+"Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?" she said, turning her back upon
+the pastor and motioning to Jim not to answer.  Douglas gazed at
+her in astonishment.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse, strained voice.  He
+glanced at the coat and hat.  "Where are you going?"
+
+Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim.
+
+"What made you come back? Why didn't you wait for me down the
+street? Now, you've spoiled everything."  She pretended to be
+very vexed with him.  The big fellow looked puzzled.  He tried to
+protest, but she put a warning finger to her lips and pressed the
+little brown satchel into his hand.  "It's no use," she went on
+hurriedly.  "We might as well tell them everything now."  She
+turned to Douglas and pretended to laugh.  "You have found us
+out."
+
+The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead
+was deepening.
+
+"Oh, see how serious he looks," she teased, with a toss of her
+head toward the grim-visaged pastor.
+
+"Is this some trick?" he demanded, sternly.
+
+"Don't be angry," she pleaded.  "Wish me luck."
+
+She held out one small hand; he did not take it.  She wavered,
+then she felt the eyes of the deacons upon her.  Courage returned
+and she spoke in a firm, clear voice:  "I am going to run away."
+
+Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly.
+
+"Run away?" he exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"Yes, to the circus with Jim."
+
+"You couldn't DO such a thing," he answered, excitedly.  "Why,
+only a moment ago you told me you would never leave me."
+
+"Oh, but that was a moment ago," she cried, in a strained, high
+voice.  "That was before Jim came.  You see, I didn't know HOW I
+felt until I saw Jim and heard all about my old friends, how
+Barker is keeping my place for me, and how they all want to see
+me.  And I want to see them, and to hear the music and the
+laughter and the clown songs-- Oh, the clown songs!" She waltzed
+about, humming the snatch of melody that Mandy had heard the
+morning that Polly first woke in the parsonage.
+
+        "Ting, ling.          That's how the bells ring,        
+Ting, ling, pretty young thing 
+
+She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, and gazed at them
+with a brave, little smile.  "Oh, it's going to be fine! Fine!"
+
+"You don't know what you're doing," said Douglas.  He seized her
+roughly by the arm.  Pain was making him brutal.  "I won't LET
+you go! Do you hear me? I won't--not until you've thought it
+over."
+
+"I have thought it over," Polly answered, meeting his eyes and
+trying to speak lightly.  Her lips trembled.  She could not bear
+for him to think her so ungrateful.  She remembered his great
+kindness; the many thoughtful acts that had made the past year so
+precious to her.
+
+"You've been awfully good to me, Mr.  John."  She tried to choke
+back a sob.  "I'll never forget it--never! I'll always feel the
+same toward you.  But you mustn't ask me to stay.  I want to get
+back to them that knew me first--to my OWN! Circus folks aren't
+cut out for parsons' homes, and I was born in the circus.  I love
+it--I love it! She felt her strength going, and cried out wildly: 
+"I want Bingo! I want to go round and round the ring! I want the
+lights and the music and the hoops! I want the shrieks of the
+animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at night! I
+want to ride in the big parade! I want to live and die--just
+die--as circus folks die! I want to go back! I want to go back!"
+
+She put out one trembling hand to Jim and rushed quickly through
+the gate laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling to him to
+follow.
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+LONELY days followed Polly's desertion of the parsonage.  Mandy
+went about her duties very quietly, feeling that the little
+comments which once amused the pastor had now become an
+interruption to thoughts in which she had no part.  He would sit
+for hours with his head in his hands, taking no notice of what
+passed before him.  She tried to think of new dishes to tempt his
+appetite, and shook her head sadly as she bore the untasted food
+back to the kitchen.
+
+She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings lying open upon his
+study table.  She remembered the zeal with which he had planned
+to remodel the church and parsonage, when he first came to them;
+how his enthusiasm had gradually died for lack of encouragement;
+and how he had at last put his books in a cupboard, where they
+grew dusty from long neglect.  She marvelled at their
+reappearance now, but something in his set, far-away look made
+her afraid to inquire.  Thus she went on from day to day, growing
+more impatient with Hasty and more silent with the pastor.
+
+Mandy needed humor and companionship to oil the wheels of her
+humdrum life; there was no more laughter in the house, and she
+began to droop.
+
+Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the
+complacency of the village was again upset by the arrival of the
+"Great American Circus."
+
+There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for
+speculation was now at fever heat about the pastor.  "Would he
+try to see her? had he forgotten her? and what had he ever found
+in her?" were a few of the many questions that the women were
+asking each other.  Now, that the cause of their envy was
+removed, they would gladly have reinstated the pastor as their
+idol; for, like all truly feminine souls, they could not bear to
+see a man unhappy without wishing to comfort him, nor happy
+unless they were the direct cause of his state.  "How dare any
+man be happy without me?" has been the cry of each woman since
+Eve was created to mate with Adam.
+
+Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of
+Polly's disappearance.  He expressed no opinion about the deacons
+or their recent disapproval of him.  He avoided meeting them
+oftener than duty required; and Strong felt so uncomfortable and
+tongue-tied in his presence that he, too, was glad to make their
+talks as few as possible.
+
+Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or
+about his continued connection with the church, and the
+inquisitive sisterhood was on the point of exploding from an
+over- accumulation of unanswered questions.
+
+He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor,
+listened to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his parishioners,
+and shut himself up with his books or walked alone on the hill
+behind the church.
+
+He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus
+lot for the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance
+was closing.  It had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss
+Polly was not in the parade that morning, and to know that the
+pastor had made no effort to find out about her.  For weeks both
+she and Hasty had hoped that the return of the circus might bring
+Polly back to them; but now it was nearly night and there had
+been no word from her.  Why didn't she come running in to see
+them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the pastor
+stayed away on the hills all day?
+
+Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so
+finally she drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held
+her small wad of savings, and told Hasty "to go long to de show
+and find out 'bout Miss Polly."
+
+She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at
+the door for the second time that afternoon.
+
+"Is Mr.  Douglas back yet?' he asked.
+
+"No, sah, he ain't," said Mandy, very shortly.  She felt that
+Strong and Elverson had been "a-tryin' to spy on de parson all
+day," and she resented their visits more than she usually did.
+
+"What time are you expectin' him?"
+
+"I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him."
+
+Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps.  She saw from
+the window that he met Elverson in front of the church.
+
+"Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble," she mumbled.
+
+The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had
+straggled down the street.  She opened the door and stood on the
+porch; the house seemed to suffocate her.  What was keeping
+Hasty?
+
+He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he
+brought unwelcome news.
+
+"Ain't she dar?"
+
+"She's wid 'em, all right," said Hasty.
+
+"Yuh seed her?"
+
+"Naw, I didn't done SEED her."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She want in de show."
+
+"What you jes' tell me?"
+
+"She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride."
+
+"See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?"
+
+"I don' rightly know," said Hasty.  "A great big man, what wored
+clothes like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says
+as how he's 'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. 
+An' den he says as how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den
+everybody look disappinted like, an' den out comes de udder gal
+on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I ain't heard no more 'bout Miss
+Polly."
+
+"Why didn't you done ask somebody?"
+
+"Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz hurryin' ever'body to
+get out of de tent.  I done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git
+ma money's worth?' an' den ebberbody laugh, an' he shove me 'long
+wid de rest of de folks, an' here I is."
+
+"She's sick, dat's what _I_ says," Mandy declared, excitedly;
+"an' somebody's got to do somethin'!"
+
+"I done all I knowed," drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was
+regretting her twenty-five-cent investment.
+
+"Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire," was Mandy's
+impatient reply.  "I got to keep dem vittels warm fer Massa
+John."
+
+She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to
+get hold of Polly.  "Dat baby- faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy
+all wobbly 'bout de heart," she declared to herself, as she
+crossed to the window for a sight of the pastor.
+
+It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the path
+from the hill.  She lighted the study-lamp, rearranged the
+cushions, and tried to make the room look cheery for his
+entrance.  He stopped in the hall and hung up his hat.  There was
+momentary silence.  Would he shut himself in his room for the
+night, or would he come into the study? At last the door opened
+and Mandy hastened to place a chair for him.
+
+"Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired," she said.
+
+"Oh, no," answered Douglas, absently.
+
+"Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here
+to-night.  It's more cheerfuller."
+
+The side-showman was already beginning his spiel in the lot
+below.  The lemonade venders{sic} and the popcorn sellers were
+heard crying their wares.  Douglas did not answer her.  She
+bustled from the room, declaring "she was jes' goin' ter bring
+him a morsel."
+
+He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot.  The
+flare of the torches and the red fire came up to meet his pale,
+tense face.  "How like the picture of thirteen months ago," he
+thought, and old Toby's words came back to him-- "The show has
+got to go on."
+
+Above the church steeple, the moon was battling its way through
+the clouds.  His eyes travelled from heaven to earth.  There was
+a spirit of unreality in it all.  Something made him mistrust
+himself, his very existence.  He longed to have done with dreams
+and speculation, to feel something tangible, warm, and real
+within his grasp.  "I can't go on like this!" he cried.  "I
+can't!" He turned from the window and walked hurriedly up and
+down the room; indoors or out, he found no rest.  He threw
+himself in the armchair near the table, and sat buried in
+thought.
+
+Mandy came softly into the room.  She was followed by Hasty, who
+carried a tray, laden with things that ought to have tempted any
+man.  She motioned for Hasty to put the tray on the table, and
+then began arranging the dishes.  Hasty stole to the window, and
+peeped out at the tempting flare of red fire.
+
+When Douglas discovered the presence of his two "faithfuls" he
+was touched with momentary contrition.  He knew that he often
+neglected to chat with them now, and he made an effort to say
+something that might restore the old feeling of comradeship.
+
+"Have you had a hard day with the new gravel walk?" he asked
+Hasty, remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the
+Sunday-school- room.
+
+Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either to lie or tell the
+truth about the disposition she had made of his afternoon.
+
+"Jes' you come eat yo' supper," Mandy called to Douglas.  "Don'
+yous worry your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob mine.  He ain'
+goin' ter work 'nuff.  to hurt hisself."  For an instant she had
+been tempted to let the pastor know how Hasty had gone to the
+circus and seen nothing of Polly; but her motherly instinct won
+the day and she urged him to eat before disturbing him with her
+own anxieties.  It was no use.  He only toyed with his food; he
+was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone.  She gave up
+trying to tempt his appetite, and began to lead up in a
+roundabout way to the things which she wished to ask.
+
+"Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot tonight," she said;
+Douglas did not answer.  After a moment, she went on:  "Hasty
+didn't work on no walk to-day."  Douglas looked at her
+quizzically, while Hasty, convinced that for reasons of her own
+she was going to get him into trouble, was making frantic
+motions.  "He done gone to de circus," she blurted out. 
+Douglas's face became suddenly grave.  Mandy saw that she had
+touched an open wound.
+
+"I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John.  I HAD to find out 'bout
+dat angel chile."  There was a pause.  She felt that he was
+waiting for her to go on.
+
+"She didn't done ride to-day."
+
+He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal.  "And de
+gemmen in de show didn't tell nobody why--jes' speaked about de
+udder gal takin' her place."
+
+"Why DIDN'T she ride?" cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense.
+
+"Dat's what I don' know, sah."  Mandy began to cry.  It was the
+first time in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to
+give way to any such weakness.  He walked up and down the room,
+uncertain what to do.
+
+Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about
+Mandy's shoulders.
+
+"Leab me alone, you nigga!" she exclaimed, trying to cover her
+tears with a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed
+from the room, followed by Hasty.
+
+The band was playing loudly; the din of the night performance was
+increasing.  Douglas's nerves were strained to a point of
+breaking.  He would not let himself go near the window.  He stood
+by the side of the table, his fists clenched, and tried to beat
+back the impulse that was pulling him toward the door.  Again and
+again he set his teeth.
+
+It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so.  Was she ill? Could she
+need him? Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if
+he went for her and brought her back with him? He recalled the
+hysterical note in her behaviour the day that she went away; how
+she had pleaded, only a few moments before Jim came, never to be
+separated from him.  Had she really cared for Jim and for the old
+life? Why had she never written? Was she ashamed? Was she sorry
+for what she had done? What could it mean? He threw his hands
+above his head with a gesture of despair.  A moment later, he
+passed out into the night.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+JIM was slow to-night.  The big show was nearly over, yet many of
+the props used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded.
+
+He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of the wagons in the
+back lot, and the men were standing about idly, waiting for
+orders, when Barker came out of the main tent and called to him
+sharply:
+
+"Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to- night?"
+
+"Excuse for what?" Jim crossed slowly to Barker.
+
+"The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show
+top ain't loaded yet."
+
+"Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! Number thirty-eight
+carries the cook tent and the blacksmith has been tinkering with
+it all day.  Ask HIM what shape it's in."
+
+"You're always stallin'," was Barker's sullen complaint.  "It's
+the wagons, or the black- smiths, or anything but the truth.  _I_
+know what's the matter, all right."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Jim, sharply.
+
+"I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin'
+for that girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.' "
+
+"What have yer got to say about her?" Jim eyed him with a
+threatening look.
+
+"I got a-plenty," said Barker, as he turned to snap his whip at
+the small boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the
+rear edge of the "big top."  "She's been about as much good as a
+sick cat since she come back.  You saw her act last night."
+
+"Yes," answered Jim, doggedly.
+
+"Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at ALL this afternoon--said she
+was sick.  And me with all them people inside what knowed her,
+waitin' ter see 'er."
+
+"Give her a little time," Jim pleaded.  "She ain't rode for a
+year."
+
+"Time!" shouted Barker.  "How much does she want? She's been back
+a month and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. 
+There's only one thing for me to do."
+
+"What's that?" asked Jim, uneasily.
+
+"I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard."
+
+"Look here, Barker," and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked
+steadily at the other man; "you're boss here, and I takes orders
+from you, but if I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss
+won't make no difference."
+
+"You can't bluff me," shouted Barker.
+
+"I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer," said Jim, very quietly.
+
+"Well, you TELL her to get onto her job.  If she don't she quits,
+that's all."  He hurried into the ring.
+
+Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the
+ground with thoughtful eyes.  He, too, had seen the change in
+Polly.  He had tried to rouse her; it was no use.  She had looked
+at him blankly.  'If she would only complain," he said to
+himself.  "If she would only get mad, anything, anything to wake
+her."  But she did not complain.  She went through her daily
+routine very humbly and quietly.  She sometimes wondered how Jim
+could talk so much about her  work, but before she could answer
+the question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden
+and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with
+folded hands and wide, staring eyes, gazing into the distance.
+
+The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night.  He had
+gone on hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the
+"let-down" in her work, and now the blow had fallen.  How could
+he tell her?
+
+One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent.  There was a
+moment's confusion, as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each
+other on their way to and from the ring, then the lot cleared
+again, and Polly came slowly from the dressing tent.  She looked
+very different from the little girl whom Jim had led away from
+the parson's garden in a simple, white frock one month before. 
+Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with her glittering
+attire.  Her hair was knotted high on her head {a}nd intertwined
+with flowers and jewels.  Her slender neck seemed scarcely able
+to support its burden.  Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice
+were ablaze with white and coloured stones.
+
+"What's on, Jim?" she asked.
+
+"The 'Leap o' Death.' " You got plenty a' time."
+
+Polly's mind went back to the girl who answered that call a year
+ago.  Her spirit seemed very near to-night.  The band stopped
+playing.  Barker made his grandiloquent announcement about the
+wonderful act about to be seen, and her eyes wandered to the
+distant church steeple.  The moonlight seemed to shun it
+to-night.  It looked cold and grim and dark.  She wondered
+whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship had
+become as mute as her own dead heart.  She did not hear the whirr
+of the great machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space
+with its girl occupant.  These things were a part of the daily
+routine, part of the strange, vague dream through which she must
+stumble for the rest of her life.
+
+Jim watched her in silence.  Her face was turned from him.  She
+had forgotten his presence.
+
+"Star gazin', Poll?" he asked at length, dreading to disturb her
+revery.
+
+"I guess I was, Jim."  She turned to him with a little, forced
+smile.  He longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke.
+
+"How yer feelin' to-night?"
+
+"I'm all right," she answered, cheerfully
+
+"Anythin' yer want?"
+
+"Want?" she turned upon him with startled eyes.  There was so
+much that she wanted, that the mere mention of the word had
+opened a well of pain in her heart.
+
+"I mean, can I do anythin' for you?"
+
+"Oh, of course not."  She remembered how little ANY ONE could do.
+
+"What is it, Poll?" he begged; but she only turned away and shook
+her head with a sigh.  He followed her with anxious eyes.  "What
+made yer cut out the show to-day? Was it because you didn't want
+ter ride afore folks what knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?"
+
+"HIM?" Her face was white.  Jim feared she might swoon.  "You
+don't mean that he was----"
+
+"Oh, no," he answered, quickly, "of course not.  Parsons don't
+come to places like this one.  I was only figurin' that yer
+didn't want OTHER folks to see yer and to tell him how you was
+ridin'."  She did not answer.
+
+"Was that it, Poll?" he urged.
+
+"I don't know."  She stared into space.
+
+"Was it?"
+
+"I guess it was," she said, after a long time.
+
+"I knowed it," he cried.  "I was a fool to a-brung you back.  Yer
+don't belong with us no more."
+
+"Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here,
+too!"
+
+"Here, too?" He looked at her in astonishment.  "Yer wasn't in
+HIS way, was yer, Poll?"
+
+"Yes, Jim."  She saw his look of unbelief and continued
+hurriedly.  "Oh, I tried not to be.  I tried so hard.  He used to
+read me verses out of a Bible about my way being his way and my
+people his people, but it isn't so, Jim.  Your way is the way you
+are born, and your people are the people you are born with, and
+you can't change it, Jim, no matter how hard you try."
+
+"YOU was changin' it," he answered, savagely.  "You was gettin'
+jes' like them people.  It was me what took yer away and spoiled
+it all.  You oughtn't to a come.  What made yer, after yer said
+yer wouldn't?" 
+
+She did not answer.  Strange things were going through the mind
+of the slow-witted Jim.  He braced himself for a difficult
+question.
+
+"Will yer answer me somethin' straight?" he asked.
+
+"Why, of course," she said as she met his gaze.
+
+"Do you love the parson, Poll?"
+
+She started.
+
+"Is that it?"
+
+Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her
+lips apart, then looked far into the distance.
+
+"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid--that's it."  The little figure drooped,
+and she stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed.  Jim looked
+at her helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head.
+
+"Ain't that hell?"
+
+It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a
+cooing babe, at her dead mother's side.  He watched the tender,
+averted face.  Things had turned out so differently from what he
+had planned.
+
+"And he didn't care about you--like that?" he asked, after a
+pause.
+
+"No, not in that way."  She was anxious to defend the pastor from
+even the thought of such a thing.  "He was good and kind always,
+but he didn't care THAT WAY.  He's not like that."
+
+"I guess I'll have a talk with him," said Jim, and he turned to
+go.
+
+"Talk!" she cried.
+
+He stopped and looked at her in astonishment.  It was the first
+time that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice.  Her
+tiny figure was stiffened with decision.  Her eyes were blazing.
+
+"If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me
+again."
+
+Jim was perplexed.
+
+"I mean it, Jim.  I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. 
+If you ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run
+away--really and truly away--and you'll never, never get me
+back."
+
+He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for
+the little, clenched fist.  He held it in his big, rough hand,
+toying nervously with the tiny fingers.
+
+"I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll.  I was
+just a tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how."
+
+She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on
+his great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt
+in her heart.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+THE "Leap of Death" implements were being carried from the ring,
+and Jim turned away to superintend their loading.
+
+Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from
+the main tent.
+
+Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious.  The
+mere mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for
+her to ride to-night.  For hours she had been whipping herself up
+to the point of doing it, and now her courage failed her.  She
+followed Barker as he came from the ring.
+
+"Mr.  Barker, please!"
+
+He turned upon her sharply.
+
+"Well, what is it NOW?"
+
+"I want to ask you to let me off again to-night."  She spoke in a
+short, jerky, desperate way.
+
+"What?" he shrieked.  "Not go into the ring, with all them people
+inside what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?"
+
+"That's it," she cried.  "I can't! I can't!"
+
+"YER gettin' too tony!" Barker sneered.  "That's the trouble with
+you.  You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that
+parson's house.  Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. 
+First thing yer know yer'll be out all 'round."
+
+"Out?"
+
+"Sure.  Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead
+one,' do you?"
+
+"I am not a 'dead one,' " she answered, excitedly.  "I'm the best
+rider you've had since mother died.  You've said so yourself."
+
+'That was afore yer got in with them church cranks.  You talk
+about yer mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer."
+
+"She wouldn't," cried Polly.  Her eyes were flashing, her face
+was scarlet.  The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was
+quivering with indignation.  "I can ride as well as I EVER could,
+and I'll do it, too.  I'll do it to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?" echoed Barker.  "What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT," she declared,
+"and I won't."
+
+She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her
+own.
+
+He looked at her with momentary indecision.  She WAS a good
+rider--the best since her mother, as he had often told her.  He
+could see this meant an issue.  He felt she would be on her
+mettle to-morrow, as far as her work was concerned, if he left
+her alone to-night.
+
+"All right," he said, sullenly.  "Yer can stay off to-night.  I
+got the crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money.  I'll let
+Eloise do a turn on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me
+your old act."
+
+"I'll show you!" she cried.  "I'll show you!"
+
+"Well, see that you do."  He crossed into the ring.
+
+Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense.  Jim came
+toward her from the direction of the wagons.  He glanced at her
+uneasily.  "What's he been a-sayin' ter you?"
+
+"He says I can't ride any more."  Her lips closed tightly.  She
+stared straight ahead of her.  "He says I was no good to the
+people that took me in, and I'm no use here."
+
+"It's not so!" thundered Jim.
+
+"No; it's not!" she cried.  "I'll show him, Jim! I'll show
+him--to-morrow!" She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught
+her firmly by the wrist.
+
+"Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT
+WAY."  Her eyes met his, defiantly.
+
+"What's the difference? What's the difference?" She wrenched her
+wrist quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing
+hysterically.
+
+"And I brung her back to it," mumbled Jim as he turned to give
+orders to the property men.
+
+Most of the "first-half props" were loaded, and some of the men
+were asleep under the wagons.  The lot was clear.  Suddenly he
+felt some one approaching from the back of the enclosure.  He
+turned and found himself face to face with the stern, solitary
+figure of the pastor, wrapped in his long, black cloak.  The
+moonlight slipped through a rift in the clouds, and fell in a
+circle around them.
+
+"What made you come here?" was all Jim said.
+
+"I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day.  I was afraid she
+might be ill."
+
+"What's that to you?"
+
+"She ISN'T ill?" Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the
+gruffness in the big fellow's voice.
+
+"She's all right," Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily
+from one foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning
+gaze.
+
+"And she's happy? she's content?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"I'm glad," said Douglas, dully.  He tried to think of some way
+to prolong their talk.  "I've never heard from her, you know."
+
+"Us folks don't get much time to write."  Jim turned away and
+began tinkering with one of the wagons.
+
+Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and
+again, fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was
+doing, but to no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed
+impossible that he should go away so unsatisfied.  He crossed to
+Jim and came determinedly to the point.
+
+"Can't I see her, Jim?"
+
+"It's agin the rules."  He did not turn.
+
+There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the
+lot.
+
+"Wait a minute," called Jim, as though the words had been wrung
+from him.  The pastor came back with a question in his eyes.
+
+"I lied to you."
+
+"She's NOT well, then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, she's well enough.  It ain't that; it's about her being
+happy."
+
+"She isn't?" There was a note of unconscious exultation in his
+voice.
+
+"No.  She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU."
+
+"Then, why did she leave me?"
+
+"I don't know.  She wasn't goin' ter do it at first.  Somethin'
+must a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know
+about."
+
+"We WILL know about it, Jim.  Where is she?" His quick eye
+searched the lot.  His voice had regained it's old command.  He
+felt that he could conquer worlds.
+
+"You can't do no good that way," answered Jim.  "She don't want
+ter see you again."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even
+talked to you about her."
+
+"You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself.  Where is she?"
+
+"She'll be comin' out soon.  You can wait around out here with
+me.  I'll let you know in time."  He led the way through a narrow
+passage between the wagons.
+
+Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when Deacon Elverson's
+small, round head slipped cautiously around the corner of the
+dressing tent.  The little deacon glanced exultantly about him. 
+He was monarch of all he surveyed.  It was very thrilling to
+stand here, on this forbidden ground, smelling the saw- dust,
+gazing at the big red wagons, studying the unprotected circus
+properties, and listening to the lightening tempo of the band.
+
+"Did you see him?" shouted Strong, who had followed closely upon
+Elverson's heels.
+
+The little deacon started.  Strong was certainly a disturbing
+factor at times.
+
+"Yes, I--I saw him."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"He--he--didn't see HER."
+
+"What DID he do?" Strong was beside himself with impatience.
+
+"He--he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way." 
+Elverson nodded toward the wagons.
+
+"I guess he ain't gone far," sneered Strong.  "He come over to
+this lot to see her, and he ain't goin' ter give up till he does
+it.  You wait here; I'll take a look round."  He went quickly in
+the direction of the wagons.
+
+Elverson needed no second invitation to wait.  He was
+congratulating himself upon his good fortune, when he all but
+collided with a flying apparition, vanishing in the direction of
+the main tent.  Sophisticated eyes would have seen only a rather
+stout acrobat clad in pink tights; but Elverson was not
+sophisticated, and he teetered after the flitting angel, even
+unto the forbidden portals of the "big top."
+
+He was peeping through the curtains which had fallen behind her,
+and was getting his first glimpse of the great, sawdust world
+beyond, when one of the clowns dashed from the dressing tent on
+his way to the ring.
+
+The clown was late.  He saw the limp coat tails of the deacon,
+who was three-quarters in the tent.  Here was a chance to make a
+funny entrance.  He grabbed the unsuspecting little man from the
+rear.  The terrified deacon struck out blindly in all directions,
+his black arms and legs moving like centipede, but the clown held
+him firmly by the back and thrust him, head foremost, into the
+tent.
+
+Strong returned almost immediately from his unsuccessful search
+for the pastor.  He looked about the lot for Elverson.
+
+"Hey, there, Elverson!" he called lustily.  There was no
+response.
+
+"Now where's he got to," grumbled Strong.  He disappeared quickly
+around the corner of the dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp
+lookout for Douglas.
+
+Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, spitting sawdust
+and much discomfited by the laughing performers who followed him. 
+His knees almost gave way beneath him when Barker came out of the
+ring, snapping his long, black whip.
+
+"Get out of here, you bloke!" roared Barker.  and Elverson "got."
+
+No one had remembered to tell the groom that Polly was not to
+ride to-night.  So Bingo was brought out as usual, when their
+"turn" approached.
+
+"Take him back, Tom," Polly called from the entrance, when she
+learned that Bingo was waiting, "and bring Barbarian.  I'm not
+going on to-night.  Eloise is going to ride in my place."
+
+This was the second time to-day that Bingo had been led away
+without going into the ring.  Something in his big, wondering
+eyes made Polly follow him and apologise.  He was very proud, was
+Bingo, and very conscientious.  He felt uneasy when he saw the
+other horses going to their work without him.
+
+"Never mind, Bingo," she said, patting his great, arched neck,
+"we'll show 'em to-morrow."  He rubbed his satiny nose against
+her cheek.  "We'll make them SIT UP again.  Barker says our act's
+no good--that I've let down.  But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. 
+I've not been fair to you.  I'll give you a chance to-morrow. 
+You wait.  He'll never say it again, Bingo! Never again!" She
+watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as he nipped
+the attendant on the arm.  He was still irritated at not going
+into the ring.
+
+Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her
+street clothes.  The wagons would soon be moving away.  For a
+moment she glanced at the dark church steeple, then she turned to
+go inside the tent.  A deep, familiar voice stopped her.
+
+"Polly!"
+
+She turned quickly.  She could not answer.  Douglas came toward
+her.  He gazed at her in amazement.  She drew her cape about her
+slightly clad figure.  She seemed older to him, more
+unapproachable with her hair heaped high and sparkling with
+jewels.  Her bodice of satin and lace shimmered through the
+opening of her cape.  The moonlight lent mystery and indecision
+to her betinselled attire.  The band was playing the andante for
+the balancing act.
+
+She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound
+came from them.  She and the pastor looked at each other
+strangely, like spirits newly met from far-apart worlds.  She,
+too, thought her companion changed.  He was older, the circles
+beneath his eyes were deeper, the look in their depths more
+grave.
+
+"We were such close neighbours to-day, I--I rather thought you'd
+call," he stammered.  He was uncertain what he was saying--it did
+not matter--he was there with her.
+
+"When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling."
+
+"That's why I've come to call on you."  They might have been
+sheppherd and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting
+way in which their words came.
+
+"You're all right?" he went on.  "You're happy?"
+
+"Yes, very," she said.  Her eyes were downcast.
+
+He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white
+face belied her words.  How COULD he get the truth from her?
+
+"Jim said you might not want to see me."
+
+She started.
+
+"Has Jim been talking to you?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you
+left that you'd never change-- toward me.  Have you, Poll?" He
+studied her, anxiously.
+
+"Why, no, of course not," she said, evasively.
+
+"And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?"
+
+"Yes, of course."  She was growing more and more uneasy.  She
+glanced about for a way of escape.
+
+"Why did you leave me as you did?"
+
+"I told you then."  She tried to cross toward the dressing tent.
+
+He stepped quickly in front of her.
+
+"You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy."
+
+She was growing desperate.  She felt she must get away, anywhere,
+anywhere.
+
+He seized her small wrists and forced her to look at him.
+
+"And _I_ am not happy without YOU, and I never, NEVER can be." 
+The floodgates were open, his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her
+eagerly.
+
+"Oh, you mustn't," she begged.  "You MUSTN'T."
+
+"You've grown so close," he cried.  "So close!" She struggled to
+be free.  He did not heed her.  "You know--you must know what I
+mean."  He drew her toward him and forced her into his arms. 
+"You're more precious to me than all else on this earth."
+
+For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on her face.  He
+felt her growing limp and lifeless in his arms.  A doubt crossed
+his mind.  "If I am wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you
+honestly care for all this," he glanced about at the tents, "more
+than for any life that I can give you, I shan't interfere. 
+You'll be going on your way in an hour.  I'll say good-bye and
+God bless you; but if you do care for me, Polly," he was pleading
+now, "if you're NOT happy here-- won't you come back to me? Won't
+you, Polly?"
+
+She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send him away.  She stood
+irresolute.  The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her.
+
+"So! You're HERE, are you?"
+
+"Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here," answered the pastor, as he turned
+to meet the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly
+from behind the dressing tent.
+
+"As for you, miss," continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward
+Polly, "I might have known how you'd keep your part of the
+bargain."
+
+"Bargain?" echoed Douglas.  "What bargain?"
+
+"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please.  I didn't mean to see him, I
+didn't, truly."  She hardly knew what she was saying.
+
+"What bargain?" demanded Douglas sternly.
+
+"She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each
+other agin," roared Strong.  "If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to
+keep on with this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so
+easy."
+
+"So! That's it!" cried Douglas.  It was all clear to him now.  He
+recalled everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her
+tears.  "It was you who drove that child back to this."  He
+glanced at Polly.  The narrow shoulders were bent forward.  The
+nervous little fingers were clasping and unclasping each other. 
+Never before had she seemed so small and helpless.
+
+"Oh, please, Mr.  John, please! Don't make him any worse!"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
+
+"It would have done no good," she sobbed.  "Oh, why--why won't
+you leave me alone?"
+
+"It would have done all the good in the world.  What right had he
+to send you back to this?"
+
+"I had every right," said Strong, stubbornly.
+
+"What?" cried Douglas.
+
+"It was my duty."
+
+"Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!"
+
+"I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my
+parson."
+
+"I'm NOT your parson any longer," declared Douglas.  He faced
+Strong squarely.  He was master of his own affairs at last. 
+Polly clung to him, begging and beseeching.
+
+"Oh, Mr.  John! Mr.  John!"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" shouted Strong.
+
+"I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow- minded
+congregation before, because I believed you needed me.  But now
+this girl needs me more.  She needs me to protect her from just
+such injustice as yours."
+
+"You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF.  That's my advice to you."
+
+"I can do that WITHOUT your advice."
+
+"Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl
+a-hangin' 'round your neck."
+
+"He's right," cried Polly.  "You couldn't."  She clung to the
+pastor in terrified entreaty.  "You COULDN'T get another church. 
+They'd never, never forgive you.  It's no use.  You've got to let
+me go! you've GOT to!"
+
+"Listen, Polly."  He drew her toward him.  "God is greater than
+any church or creed.  There's work to be done EVERYWHERE--HIS
+work."
+
+"You'll soon find out about that," thundered Strong.
+
+"So I will," answered Douglas, with his head thrown high.  "This
+child has opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader,
+deeper humanity; she and I will find the way together."
+
+"It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that."  Strong turned
+to go.
+
+"I'm not looking for the easy way!" Douglas called after him,
+then he turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had
+slipped from his side to follow the deacon.
+
+"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!" she pleaded.  "You won't go
+away like that.  He'll be all right if you'll only wait.  I'm NOT
+coming back.  I'm not--honestly.  I'm going on with the show,
+to-night, and I'm going this time FOREVER."
+
+"You are going to stay here with me," cried Douglas.
+
+"No, no, Mr.  John.  I've made up my mind, and I won't be to
+blame for your unhappiness."  She faced him firmly now.  "I don't
+belong to your world, and I don't want to try any more.  I'm what
+he called me--I'm a circus riding girl.  I was born in the
+circus, and I'll never change.  That's my work--riding, and it's
+yours to preach.  You must do your work, and I'LL do MINE."
+
+She started toward the ring.  Eloise and Barbarian were already
+waiting at the entrance
+
+"Eloise!" She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound
+of Barker's voice.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," he called.  "Although we are obliged to
+announce that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear
+to-night, we offer you in her place an able substitute,
+Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black, untamed horse, Barbarian."
+
+Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount.
+
+"No! No!" cried Polly.
+
+The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice.
+
+"Polly!"
+
+"Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!"
+
+"You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn."
+
+"So much the better!" She seized the bridle from the frightened
+girl's hand.
+
+"Polly!" shouted Douglas.  He had followed her to the entrance.
+
+"I must! I will!"
+
+She flew into the ring before he could stop her.  He took one
+step to follow her.
+
+"You'd better let her alone and get out o' here," said Strong. 
+His voice was like a firebrand to Douglas.  He turned upon him,
+white with rage.
+
+"You drove her to this."  His fists were clenched.  He drew back
+to strike.
+
+Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the
+uplifted arm.
+
+"Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job."  The pastor
+lowered his arm, but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's
+face.
+
+"Where's Poll?" asked Jim.
+
+"In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning
+his head.  He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing
+hard.
+
+"What?" cried Jim, in alarm.  He faced about and saw Eloise.  He
+guessed the truth.  A few quick strides brought him to the
+entrance curtains.  He threw them back and looked into the ring.
+
+"My God! Why don't Barker stop her?"
+
+"What is it?" called Douglas.  He forgot the deacon in his terror
+at Jim's behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed.
+
+"She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!"
+
+Douglas crossed to his side and looked.
+
+Polly was springing onto the back of Barbarian.  He was a poorly
+trained horse, used by the other girl for more showy, but less
+dangerous feats than Polly's.
+
+"She's goin' through her regular turn with him, she's tryin' ter
+break her neck," said Jim.  "She wants ter do it.  It's your
+fault!" he cried, turning upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes.  He
+was half insane, he cared little whom he wounded.
+
+"Why can't we stop her?" cried Douglas, unable to endure the
+strain.  He took one step inside the entrance.
+
+"No, no; not that!" Jim dragged him back roughly.  "If she sees
+you now, it will be the end."  They watched in silence.  "She's
+over the first part," Jim whispered, at last.
+
+Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he watched the scene
+inside the ring.  Eloise stood at the pastor's side,
+horror-stricken at Polly's reckless behaviour.  She knew
+Barbarian.  It was easy to guess the end.
+
+"She's comin' to the hoops," Jim whispered, hoarsely.
+
+"Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him," the other
+girl said.
+
+Polly made the first leap toward the hoops.  The horse was not at
+fault; it was Polly.  She plunged wildly, the audience started. 
+She caught her footing with an effort.  One, two, three hoops
+were passed.  She threw herself across the back of the horse and
+hung, head downward, as he galloped around the ring.  The band
+was playing loudly, the people were cheering.  She rose to meet
+the last two hoops.
+
+"She's swayin'," Jim shrieked in agony.  "She's goin' to fall. 
+He covered his face with his hands.
+
+Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side.  She mounted and fell
+again.  She rose and staggered in pursuit.
+
+"I can't bear it," groaned Douglas.  He rushed into the ring,
+unconscious of the thousands of eyes bent upon his black,
+ministerial garb, and caught the slip of a girl in his arms just
+as she was about to sink fainting beneath the horse's hoofs.
+
+Barker brought the performance to a halt with a crack of his
+whip.  The audience stood on tiptoe.  White-faced clowns and
+gaily attired acrobats crowded around Polly and the pastor.
+
+Douglas did not see them.  He had come into his own.
+
+"He's bringin' her out," whispered Eloise, who still watched at
+the entrance.  Jim dared not look up, his head was still in his
+hands.
+
+"Is it over?" he groaned.
+
+"I don't know.  I can't tell yet."  She stepped aside as Douglas
+came out of the tent, followed by a swarm of performers.  He
+knelt on the soft grass and rested Polly's head upon his knee. 
+The others pressed about them.  It seemed to Douglas that he
+waited hours; then her white lids quivered and opened and the
+colour crept back to her lips.
+
+"It's all right, Jim!" called one of the men from the crowd. 
+"She's only fainted."  The big fellow had waited in his tracks
+for the verdict.
+
+Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson --a thrill shot
+through his veins.
+
+"It was no use, was it?" She shook her head with a sad little
+smile.  He knew that she was thinking of her failure to get out
+of his way.
+
+"That's because I need you so much, Polly, that God won't let you
+go away from me."  He drew her nearer to him, and the warm blood
+that shot to her cheeks brought back her strength.  She rose
+unsteadily, and looked about her.  Jim came toward her, white and
+trembling.
+
+"All right, Poll?"
+
+"Oh, Muvver Jim!" She threw herself into his arms and clung to
+him, sobbing weakly.
+
+No one could ever remember just how the audience left the big top
+that night, and even Barker had no clear idea of how Jim took
+down the tents, loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan on
+its way.
+
+When the last wagon was beginning to climb the long, winding road
+of the moon-lit hill, Jim turned to Polly, who stood near the
+side of the deserted ring.  His eyes travelled from her to the
+parson, who waited near her.  She was in her street clothes now,
+the little brown Quakerish dress which she had chosen to wear so
+much since her return from the parsonage.
+
+"I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time," he said, and he
+placed her hand in that of the parson.
+
+"Good-bye, Muvver Jim," faltered Polly.
+
+He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips.  A mother's
+spirit breathed through his kiss.
+
+"I'm glad it's like this," he said, then turned away and followed
+the long, dotted line of winding lights disappearing slowly over
+the hill.
+
+Her eyes travelled after him.
+
+Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side.
+
+"I belong with them," she said, still gazing after Jim and the
+wagons.
+
+"You belong with me," he answered in a firm, grave voice, and
+something in the deep, sure tones told her that he was speaking
+the truth.  She lifted one trembling hand to his shoulder, and
+looked up into his face.
+
+"Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die."
+
+He drew her into his arms.
+
+"The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee
+and me."  
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo
+
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