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diff --git a/859-h/859-h.htm b/859-h/859-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce0969f --- /dev/null +++ b/859-h/859-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5850 @@ +<?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 “<i>KLEINE MUTTER</i>” + </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 “Great American Circus” 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 “make-up.” + </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 “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think about it, Polly?” asked a handsome brunette, as she + surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer. + </p> + <p> + “About what?” asked Polly vacantly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>I</i> ain't in any trance,” answered the dark girl, “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.” + She tossed her head, the pride of class distinction welling high in her + ample bosom. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger of that,” sneered the blonde; “Barker is too old a stager to + mix up his sheep and his goats.” + </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 “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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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 “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. + </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 “neglectin' her eddication” + 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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “I always said she'd do it,” 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 + “concert boards.” 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 “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. + </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 “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. + </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 “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. + </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 “big top,” 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 “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. + </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> + “Say, Jim,” she said, with a Western drawl, “them's a funny lot of guys + what goes to them church places, ain't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Most everybody has got some kind of a bug,” Jim assented; “I guess they + don't do much harm.” + </p> + <p> + “'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'.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “You ain't feeling right,” he said uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice. The music was swelling + for her entrance. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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 “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. + </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 “tumblers” 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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “Heigh, Bingo!” 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> + “Say something, you. Get 'em back!” + </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> + “Can't you get a doctor!” he shouted desperately to Barker. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell just yet,” said the doctor. “She must be taken away.” + </p> + <p> + “Where can we take her?” asked Jim, a look of terror in his great, + troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “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. + </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> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that <i>I</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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma, let me see, too,” 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> + “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. + </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> + “What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?” simpered the widow. “He + dragged me quite to the window.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure <i>I</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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if they'd only + tell the truth about it,” said Douglas, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Miss Perkins. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Douglas. “I am sure I don't know what they do inside the + tents, but the parade looked very promising.” + </p> + <p> + “The PARADE!” the two women echoed in one breath. “Did YOU see the + parade?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you seed inside de tent?” Willie asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A parson peeping!” cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins. + </p> + <p> + “I was not a parson then,” corrected Douglas, good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “You were GOING to be,” persisted the spinster. + </p> + <p> + “I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion. He was looking very + sheepish. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!” said Mandy. + </p> + <p> + “Hasty, where have you been all day?” demanded Douglas, severely. + </p> + <p> + Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time. “Did yo' say whar's I + been, sah?” + </p> + <p> + “Dat's what he done ast yo',” Mandy prompted, threateningly. + </p> + <p> + “I bin 'ceived, Mars John,” declared Hasty, solemnly. Mandy snorted + incredulously. Douglas waited. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once an—swish—water + gone.” + </p> + <p> + Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy,” protested Hasty. “I'se hurted in mah + arm.” + </p> + <p> + “What hurt yo'?” + </p> + <p> + “Tiger.” + </p> + <p> + “A tiger?” exclaimed the women in unison. + </p> + <p> + “Done chawed it mos' off,” he declared, solemnly. “Deacon Elverson, he + seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Deacon Elverson?” cried the spinster. “Was Deacon Elverson at the + circus?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me,” Hasty answered, + innocently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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'.” + </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> + “We're all very much interested in the circus,” said Douglas. “Can't you + tell us about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I just went into the lot to look for my son,” stammered the deacon. “I + feared Peter had strayed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, deacon,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “I just stopped by your house and saw + Mrs. Elverson putting Peter to bed.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!” she cried. “Dr. + Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” 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> + “Where is she?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Go 'way f'um here!” 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 “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “It ain't—It ain't that, is it?” 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. “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. + </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—and where was + Polly? He turned to ask this question as Mandy came down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if dar ain't anudder one,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “The doctor hasn't told us yet,” said Douglas, kindly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Here's the doctor,” said Douglas, as Hartley came down the stairs, + followed by Jim. “Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here,” said Douglas, + seeing desperation written on their faces. + </p> + <p> + “Here?” They looked at him incredulously.—And this was a parson! + </p> + <p> + “Where are her parents?” the doctor asked, looking at Jim and Toby. + </p> + <p> + “She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me,” replied Jim. “We've took + care of her ever since she was a baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” said the doctor. “Well, one of you'd better stay here until + she can be moved.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Her wants will be very few,” Douglas answered, kindly. “You needn't + trouble much about that.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Where is she?” shouted the manager, looking from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “She's hurt bad,” was Jim's laconic reply. + </p> + <p> + “The devil she is!” said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation. “Is + that right?” + </p> + <p> + “She won't be able to travel for some time,” said Douglas. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Barker is our manager,” Toby explained, as he edged his way to the + pastor's side. + </p> + <p> + “Some time!” Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for their + misfortune. “Well, you just bet she will,” he declared menacingly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Jim,” said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the big + fellow's hand. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without sayin' + 'good-bye,' won't you, sir?” Toby pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” Douglas promised. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You're going to miss her, I'm afraid,” Douglas said, feeling an + irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they're all right,” Douglas assured him; “they'll be her friends in + no time.” + </p> + <p> + “She's fit for 'em, sir,” Toby pleaded. “She's good, clean into the middle + of her heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure of it,” Douglas answered. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you told me, Toby,” Douglas answered, kindly. “I've never known + much about circus folks.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'd better be goin',” Toby faltered, as his eyes roved hungrily + toward the stairway. + </p> + <p> + “I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will,” Douglas assured him, heartily. + </p> + <p> + “You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell her,” Douglas promised earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable to find + further pretext for staying. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It's hard to leave her,” he mumbled; “but the show has got to go on.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Straight from heaven,” Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly to the + table and picked up the satchel and coat. + </p> + <p> + “You can leave the lamp, Mandy—I must finish to-morrow's sermon.” + </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> + “Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy!” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </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> + “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. + </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. “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. + </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"> + “Ting ling, + That's what the bells sing——” + </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> + “What's the matter?” she asked faintly, trying to find something familiar + in the black face before her. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, child, hush,” Mandy whispered; “jes' you lie puffickly still. Dat's + only de furs' bell a-ringin'.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show,” Mandy answered; and she laughed + reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Then where am I?” Polly asked, half breathless with bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Nebber you mind 'bout dat,” was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply. + </p> + <p> + “But I DO mind,” protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a sitting + position. “Where's the bunch?” + </p> + <p> + “De wat?” asked Mandy in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “The bunch—Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!” + </p> + <p> + “Lor' bless you!” Mandy exclaimed. “Dey's done gone 'long wid de circus, + hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Show gone!” Polly cried in amazement. “Then what am I doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Hole on dar, honey! hole on!” Mandy cautioned. “Don't you 'cite yo'se'f.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone!” Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place a shawl + around her. “I got to get out a-here.” + </p> + <p> + “You'se got plenty o' time for dat,” Mandy answered, “yes' yo' wait + awhile.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Here, here! What's all this about?” he asked, in a firm tone, though + evidently amused. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful,” Mandy explained, as she tried + to regain enough breath for a new encounter. + </p> + <p> + “Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly,” he said, with mock seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know I'm Polly?” the little rebel asked, her eyes gleaming + large and desperate above the friendly covers. + </p> + <p> + “If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell you,” he + said, as he crossed to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't yuh be scared, honey,” Mandy reassured her. “You's jes' as safe + here as you done been in de circus.” + </p> + <p> + “Safer, we hope,” Douglas added, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but fell back + with a cry of pain. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The pastor had taken a step toward the bed. His look of amusement had + changed to one of pity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I sure am on the blink,” she sighed, as she settled back wearily upon the + pillow. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be all right soon,” Douglas answered, cheerily. “Mandy and I will + help the time to go.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't try just now if I were you,” Douglas answered tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “It's my WHEEL, ain't it?” Polly questioned, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Only sprained,” Douglas answered, striving to control his amusement at + the expression on Mandy's puzzled face. “Better not talk any more about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?” she asked, turning + her head to one side and studying him quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think there is,” he replied good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?” she asked, as she studied the + walls of the unfamiliar room. + </p> + <p> + “We brought you here.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a swell place,” she conceded grudgingly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the 'big top?' she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The—what?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “The main tent,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no; not exactly. It's going to be your room now, Miss Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You're very welcome,” Douglas answered with a ring of genuine feeling in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Awful quiet, ain't it?” she ventured, after a pause. “Guess that's what + woke me up.” + </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> + “I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write much,” + Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile. + </p> + <p> + “I will write for you,” the pastor volunteered, understanding her plight. + </p> + <p> + “You will?” For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Every day,” Douglas promised solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “And you will show me how?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will.” + </p> + <p> + “How long am I in for?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor can tell better about that when he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor! So—it's as bad as that, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that need not frighten you,” Douglas answered consolingly. + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they will get along all right,” he said reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “No,” admitted John, weakly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” was all Douglas could say, confused by the sudden + volley of unfamiliar words. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus,” Douglas told her + half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon him. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Polly, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion cage,” she + began excitedly. “You remember?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + “Sheet!” Mandy shrieked from her corner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—the billboards—the pictures,” Polly said, growing + impatient at their persistent stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “She sure am a funny talkin' thing!” mumbled Mandy to herself, as she + clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window. + </p> + <p> + “You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?” Polly asked with a + lingering suspicion in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Dead sure”; 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—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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Muvver Jim”? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her to a + knowledge of his presence. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And your real mother went away when you were very young?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't go AWAY——” + </p> + <p> + “No?” There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice. + </p> + <p> + “She went out,” Polly corrected. + </p> + <p> + “Out!” he echoed blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—finished—Lights out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, an accident.” Douglas understood at last. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “For de Lord's sake!” Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's + conversation grew upon her. + </p> + <p> + “And now I'm down and out,” Polly concluded with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “But THIS is nothing serious,” said the pastor, trying to cheer her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was you ever floored?” Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as she + studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had “nothin' on + her,” as she would have put it. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Poor folks?” Polly questioned. “Do you give money to folks? We are always + itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his disapproved + methods, Mandy had continued eagerly: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Preach!” Polly almost shouted. She looked at him with genuine alarm this + time. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Mandy,” Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome drama + gathering about his head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Douglas.” He spoke shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you got no handle to it?” + </p> + <p> + “If you mean my Christian name, it's John.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't look like I + s'posed they did.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're a'most as + good lookin' as our strong man.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they count for a whole lot with us.” She nodded her head decidedly. + “How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “About a year,” Douglas answered, with something of a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Not many, I'm afraid.” He wondered, for the first time, if this might be + the reason for his rather indifferent success. + </p> + <p> + “Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?” + </p> + <p> + “A rep?” he repeated in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I understand,” Douglas answered in a tone of relief. “Well, I try to + say something new each Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of spiels do you give 'em?” she inquired with growing interest. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's jes' the same as us,” Polly told him with an air of + condescension; “only circuses draws more people 'an churches.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was quick + to find consolation for him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't make much difference about the show—” Douglas began, but + he was quickly interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Much the same,” Douglas admitted half-amusedly, half-regretfully. “Very + often when I work the hardest, I seem to do the least good.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure about that,” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Polly, I won't.” Douglas somehow felt that he was very much + indebted to her. + </p> + <p> + “I seen a church show once,” Polly said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You did?” Douglas asked, with new interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further comment. + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” he questioned, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't make nothin' out of it—I don't care much for readin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't ALL reading,” he corrected. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He got the whole thing right out + of a book.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was only his text,” laughed Douglas. “Text?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his congrega——” + </p> + <p> + “Easy! Easy!” she interrupted; “come again with that, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?” + </p> + <p> + “I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Sunday?” she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and looking + about the room as though everything had changed colour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And YOU GOT A MATINEE?” she exclaimed, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “We have services,” he corrected, gently. + </p> + <p> + “WE rest up on SUNDAYS,” she said in a tone of deep commiseration. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon another + discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two professions. + </p> + <p> + “What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “About Ruth and Naomi.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth and who?” + </p> + <p> + “Naomi,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a Bible name, honey,” Mandy said, eager to get into the + conversation. “Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I LIKE to look at PICTURES,” Polly answered tentatively. Mandy crossed + the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel engravings. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “See, honey, dar dey is,” the old woman said, pointing to the picture of + Ruth and Naomi. + </p> + <p> + “Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?” Polly gasped, and her eyes shone with + wonder. “Which one 's Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “Dis one,” said Mandy, pointing with her thumb. + </p> + <p> + “Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does it say + about 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “You can read it for yourself,” Douglas answered gently. There was + something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little mind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't much on readin'—OUT LOUD,” she faltered, growing + suddenly conscious of her deficiencies. “Read it for me, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “'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.'” + </p> + <p> + He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines. + </p> + <p> + “Kind o' pretty, ain't it?” Polly said softly. She felt awkward and + constrained and a little overawed. + </p> + <p> + “There are far more beautiful things than that,” Douglas assured her + enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “There are?” And her eyes opened wide with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” he replied, pitying more and more the starvation of mind + and longing to bring to it floods of light and enrichment. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel,” and she fell to studying him + solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “You would?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any more to that story?” she asked, ignoring his question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you read me a little more?” She was very humble now. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </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> + “Have you got to go?” Polly asked regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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 “didn't + blame de new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin',” said Hasty, hoping for + Mandy's assurance to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “What?” shrieked Mandy. “Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby already + a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' proper?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </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—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> + “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.'” + </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 “say + nothin' to the kid.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “Your old Muvver Jim.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “You must come back, Toby!” she + cried. “You must!” + </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. “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. + </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> + “So's you'se back, is you?” she asked, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I done been detained,” Hasty drawled. + </p> + <p> + “You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on,” Mandy snapped at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Whar's Miss Polly?” Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to work. + </p> + <p> + “Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you done fetch + that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room.” + </p> + <p> + “But I wants her,” Hasty insisted. “I'se been on very 'ticular business + what she ought to know 'bout.” + </p> + <p> + “Business?” she repeated. “What kind ob business?” + </p> + <p> + “I got to fix de Sunday-school-room,” said Hasty, as he perceived her + growing curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “You come heah, nigger!” Mandy called, determined that none of the village + doings should escape her. “Out wid it!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?” Mandy's eyes grew large + with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “De very same,” and Hasty nodded mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “How you know dat?” Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?” + </p> + <p> + “I done thought Miss Polly might want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't done nothin',” Hasty protested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Lawsy, lawsy,” she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging the + children. “You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I won't play no more,” she sobbed; “'cause I's always it.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “What is it, Hasty?” she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble with + Mandy. + </p> + <p> + “It's 'bout de circus,” Hasty informed her bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “The circus?” She rose and crossed to him quickly. + </p> + <p> + “It's in Wakefield—en' nex' month it's a-comin' here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here?” Polly gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd want ter know,” said Hasty, little surprised at her lack + of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” She turned away and pretended to look at the flowers. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What make you look so serious, Honey?” + </p> + <p> + “Just thinking,” said Polly absently. + </p> + <p> + “My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!” She was anxious to draw the + girl out of her reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like it?” Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a + moment before. “Do you think Mr. John will like it?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Massa John.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? Do I help him?—Do I?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't say 'learned him,'” Polly corrected; “you must say 'taught + him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “See here, ain't you nebber——” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by a quick “Have you never” from Polly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I's satisfied de way I be,” declared Mandy, as she plumped herself down + on the garden bench and began to fidget with resentment. + </p> + <p> + “The way I am,” Polly persisted, sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' keepin de + light burnin'?” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens set——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I could teach you in no time,” volunteered Polly, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But he'd like you all the better,” persisted Polly, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I see some writin', if dat's what you mean,” Mandy answered, helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “These are my don'ts,” Polly confided, as she pointed enthusiastically to + worn pages of finely written notes. + </p> + <p> + “You'se WHAT, chile?” + </p> + <p> + “The things I mustn't do or say.” + </p> + <p> + “An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?” Mandy looked + incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me,” she said with growing + pride. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute!” he called. “My, how fine you look!” He turned Polly about + and surveyed the new gown admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “He did see it! He did see it!” cried Polly, gleefully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?” + </p> + <p> + “You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come,” Mandy grunted. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Willie!” called the girl, and ran out laughing through the trees. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward fingers, + and began to read: “'Hens set—'” He frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,'” interrupted Mandy, disgustedly. + </p> + <p> + “Her 'don'ts'?” + </p> + <p> + “She done been set—sit—settin' up nights tryin' to learn what + you done tole her,” stuttered Mandy. + </p> + <p> + “Dear little Polly,” 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> + “Can you beat that!” 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> + “My children do not play in promiscuous games,” said the widow, icily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro”—Polly stammered. “It's a new game. + You put two here, and two here, and——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care to know.” The widow turned away, and pretended to talk to + Julia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” 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. “Wait a minute,” he said. She paused, + all eyes were turned upon them. “Is this a game that grown-ups can play?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “She isn't such a child,” sneered Julia. + </p> + <p> + “It's ENOUGH to make folks talk,” put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a sly look + at the deacons. + </p> + <p> + “And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service,” bellowed Strong. + </p> + <p> + “And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message,” piped Elverson. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's talking?” thundered Strong. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know?” simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself nor + caring, so long as the suspicion grew. + </p> + <p> + “Know what?” yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby floundered. Miss + Perkins rushed into the breach. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What IS goin' on?” 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. “Why didn't YOU tell me, Elverson, that people was a-talkin',” + 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> + “What is going on?” 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 “Bah!” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Lonely?” snapped Miss Perkins. “Well, if HE was LONELY, <i>I</i> didn't + know it.” + </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> + “Mr. Douglas!” shouted Strong, when his breath had returned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice. + </p> + <p> + “We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I want to + talk to you about 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about the key,” shouted Strong, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “But I DO mind.” Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his voice. + </p> + <p> + “We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And why?” The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his jaw was + becoming very square. + </p> + <p> + “Because she's been here long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not. She's got to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Go?” echoed Douglas. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to that.” + </p> + <p> + “And who do you mean by 'we'?” + </p> + <p> + “The members of this congregation,” replied Strong, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and as deacon of this church.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me that + that is MY affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Your affair!” shouted Strong. “When that girl is living under the + church's roof, eating the church's bread!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You keep out of this, Elverson!” he cried. “I'm running this affair and I + ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it,” answered Douglas, turning + away and dismissing the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Your duty is to your church,” thundered Strong. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, there are other reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “That talk don't do no good with me,” roared Strong. He was desperate at + being accused of an unchristian attitude. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so long as she wishes to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU believe it?” He turned upon the little man at his side! “Do you + believe it, Elverson?” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” gasped Elverson, weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Strong, when he could + trust himself to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do what is best for Miss Polly,” 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. “Good + afternoon, deacon.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. “One, + two, three for Mr. John,” she cried, as she patted the huge, brown trunk. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Polly?” he asked absently. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Sit here, Polly,” he answered gravely, pointing to a place on the bench. + “I want to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't do anything wrong,” he answered, looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I could—and I've done it—I can see it in your face. + What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the children?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone home.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them.” She looked at him with tender + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a place where you would be?” She looked up at him anxiously. She + wondered if his “show” was about to “move on.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid not,” Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy heart. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't like any place without you,” she said decidedly, and seemed to + consider the subject dismissed. + </p> + <p> + “But if it was for your GOOD,” Douglas persisted. + </p> + <p> + “It could never be for my good to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “Not even for a moment,” Polly answered, with a decided shake of her head. + </p> + <p> + “But you must get ahead in your studies,” he argued. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him anxiously. She was beginning to be alarmed at his + persistence. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games.” + </p> + <p> + “Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous.” + </p> + <p> + “Pro-mis-cuous,” she repeated, haltingly. “What does that mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Indiscriminate.” He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled look on her + face. “Mixed up,” he explained, more simply. + </p> + <p> + “Our game wasn't mixed up.” She was thinking of the one to which the widow + had objected. “Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon whom you catch,” he answered with a dry, whimsical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't catch anybody but the children.” She looked up at him with + serious, inquiring eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous.” She did not hear him. + She was searching for her book. + </p> + <p> + “Is this what you are looking for?” he asked, drawing the missing article + from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. “Mandy told you.” + </p> + <p> + “You've been working a long time on that.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me,” she + answered, timidly. “But I don't suppose I could.” + </p> + <p> + “I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” she cried, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You did?” He pretended to be astonished. He was anxious to encourage her + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?” She looked up + into his troubled face. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “What was the rest of the lesson?” he asked in a firm, hard voice. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say it now,” Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her white lids + fluttered and closed. + </p> + <p> + “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——'” + </p> + <p> + “'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. + </p> + <p> + “That's right, go on,” said Douglas, striving to control the unsteadiness + in his own voice. + </p> + <p> + “Where thou diest, will I die'”—her arms went out blindly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </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. “You are never going to leave me—never!” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up,” said Mandy as she shot a + sly glance at Polly. + </p> + <p> + “That's good,” Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling and + blushing guiltily. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Well, Hasty?” she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had something + important on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “It's de big one from de circus,” he whispered, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “The big one?” + </p> + <p> + “You know—De one what brung you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jim!” She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the rather + startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's buttonhole. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you still got Bingo?” she asked, through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Jim!” She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean—not—to-day—mebbe”—he stammered, + uncertainly, “but we'll be back here a-showin' next month.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?” The big face was wrinkled and care-worn + with trouble. + </p> + <p> + “No, Jim,” she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely hear her. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?” He tried to realise what such + a decision might mean to him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it,” he said doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “You aren't ANGRY, Jim?” She turned to him anxiously, her eyes pleading + for his forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?” 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The parson!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So he's comin' 'round,” sneered Strong. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right now,” said Strong, seating himself with a complacent air. + </p> + <p> + “All right? How so?” questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by the + deacon's evident satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, “because your + circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been talking to that girl?” asked Douglas, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said Strong, holding his ground. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said either. + She's goin' back to the circus.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating deacon. + </p> + <p> + “There's the fellow now,” cried Strong, as he pointed to the gate. + “Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar.” + </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> + “How are yer, Mr. Douglas?” said Jim, awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “You've seen Polly?” asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Back to the circus?” asked Jim. + </p> + <p> + “Did she say anything to you about it?” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked in a hoarse, strained voice. He glanced at + the coat and hat. “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead was + deepening. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, see how serious he looks,” she teased, with a toss of her head toward + the grim-visaged pastor. + </p> + <p> + “Is this some trick?” he demanded, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry,” she pleaded. “Wish me luck.” + </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: “I am going to run away.” + </p> + <p> + Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly. + </p> + <p> + “Run away?” he exclaimed incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to the circus with Jim.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't DO such a thing,” he answered, excitedly. “Why, only a + moment ago you told me you would never leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ting, ling. + That's how the bells ring, + Ting, ling, pretty young thing.” + </pre> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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 “Great American Circus.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “to go long to de show and find out 'bout Miss + Polly.” + </p> + <p> + She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at the door + for the second time that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What time are you expectin' him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him.” + </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> + “Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble,” 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> + “Ain't she dar?” + </p> + <p> + “She's wid 'em, all right,” said Hasty. + </p> + <p> + “Yuh seed her?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw, I didn't done SEED her.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “She want in de show.” + </p> + <p> + “What you jes' tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride.” + </p> + <p> + “See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you done ask somebody?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She's sick, dat's what <i>I</i> says,” Mandy declared, excitedly; “an' + somebody's got to do somethin'!” + </p> + <p> + “I done all I knowed,” drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was regretting + her twenty-five-cent investment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” answered Douglas, absently. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here to-night. It's + more cheerfuller.” + </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 + “she was jes' goin' ter bring him a morsel.” + </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. “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.” + </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. “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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't done ride to-day.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why DIDN'T she ride?” cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about Mandy's + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse for what?” Jim crossed slowly to Barker. + </p> + <p> + “The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show top ain't + loaded yet.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You're always stallin',” was Barker's sullen complaint. “It's the wagons, + or the black-smiths, or anything but the truth. <i>I</i> know what's the + matter, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” asked Jim, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin' for that + girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.'” + </p> + <p> + “What have yer got to say about her?” Jim eyed him with a threatening + look. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Jim, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her a little time,” Jim pleaded. “She ain't rode for a year.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” asked Jim, uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't bluff me,” shouted Barker. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer,” said Jim, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, that's + all.” 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. “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. + </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 “let-down” 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> + “What's on, Jim?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The 'Leap o' Death.' You got plenty a' time.” + </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> + “Star gazin', Poll?” he asked at length, dreading to disturb her revery. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I was, Jim.” She turned to him with a little, forced smile. He + longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke. + </p> + <p> + “How yer feelin' to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right,” she answered, cheerfully + </p> + <p> + “Anythin' yer want?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, can I do anythin' for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course not.” She remembered how little ANY ONE could do. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “HIM?” Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. “You don't mean + that he was——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Was that it, Poll?” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” She stared into space. + </p> + <p> + “Was it?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess it was,” she said, after a long time. + </p> + <p> + “I knowed it,” he cried. “I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer don't + belong with us no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, too?” He looked at her in astonishment. “Yer wasn't in HIS way, was + yer, Poll?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “Will yer answer me somethin' straight?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course,” she said as she met his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love the parson, Poll?” + </p> + <p> + She started. + </p> + <p> + “Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her lips + apart, then looked far into the distance. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that hell?” + </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> + “And he didn't care about you—like that?” he asked, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll have a talk with him,” said Jim, and he turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “Talk!” 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> + “If you ever DARE to speak to him—about me, you'll never see me + again.” + </p> + <p> + Jim was perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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 “Leap of Death” 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> + “Mr. Barker, please!” + </p> + <p> + He turned upon her sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it NOW?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to ask you to let me off again to-night.” She spoke in a short, + jerky, desperate way. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he shrieked. “Not go into the ring, with all them people inside + what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” she cried. “I can't! I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Out?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer + mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” echoed Barker. “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT,” she declared, “and I + won't.” + </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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you!” she cried. “I'll show you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, see that you do.” 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. “What's + he been a-sayin' ter you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not so!” thundered Jim. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT WAY.” Her + eyes met his, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “What's the difference? What's the difference?” She wrenched her wrist + quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “And I brung her back to it,” mumbled Jim as he turned to give orders to + the property men. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come here?” was all Jim said. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she might be + ill.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you?” + </p> + <p> + “She ISN'T ill?” Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the gruffness in + the big fellow's voice. + </p> + <p> + “She's all right,” Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily from one + foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning gaze. + </p> + <p> + “And she's happy? she's content?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Us folks don't get much time to write.” 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> + “Can't I see her, Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “It's agin the rules.” He did not turn. + </p> + <p> + There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the lot. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” called Jim, as though the words had been wrung from him. + The pastor came back with a question in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I lied to you.” + </p> + <p> + “She's NOT well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being happy.” + </p> + <p> + “She isn't?” There was a note of unconscious exultation in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why did she leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't do no good that way,” answered Jim. “She don't want ter see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even talked to you + about her.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Did you see him?” 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> + “Yes, I—I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “He—he—didn't see HER.” + </p> + <p> + “What DID he do?” Strong was beside himself with impatience. + </p> + <p> + “He—he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way.” Elverson + nodded toward the wagons. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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 “big top.” + </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> + “Hey, there, Elverson!” he called lustily. There was no response. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Get out of here, you bloke!” roared Barker. And Elverson “got.” + </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 “turn” approached. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “Polly!” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You're all right?” he went on. “You're happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very,” 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> + “Jim said you might not want to see me.” + </p> + <p> + She started. + </p> + <p> + “Has Jim been talking to you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, of course not,” she said, evasively. + </p> + <p> + “And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” She was growing more and more uneasy. She glanced about + for a way of escape. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave me as you did?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you then.” She tried to cross toward the dressing tent. + </p> + <p> + He stepped quickly in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy.” + </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> + “And <i>I</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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn't,” she begged. “You MUSTN'T.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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?” + </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> + “So! You're HERE, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Bargain?” echoed Douglas. “What bargain?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I didn't, + truly.” She hardly knew what she was saying. + </p> + <p> + “What bargain?” demanded Douglas sternly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It would have done no good,” she sobbed. “Oh, why—why won't you + leave me alone?” + </p> + <p> + “It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he to send + you back to this?” + </p> + <p> + “I had every right,” said Strong, stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Douglas. + </p> + <p> + “It was my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” shouted Strong. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do that WITHOUT your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl a-hangin' + 'round your neck.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Polly.” He drew her toward him. “God is greater than any church + or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE—HIS work.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll soon find out about that,” thundered Strong. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that.” Strong turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to stay here with me,” cried Douglas. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already waiting at + the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Eloise!” She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound of + Barker's voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount. + </p> + <p> + “No! No!” cried Polly. + </p> + <p> + The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Polly!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!” + </p> + <p> + “You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better!” She seized the bridle from the frightened girl's + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Polly!” shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I must! I will!” + </p> + <p> + She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one step to + follow her. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You drove her to this.” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Poll?” asked Jim. + </p> + <p> + “In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning his head. + He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing hard. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “My God! Why don't Barker stop her?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror at Jim's + behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + “She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't we stop her?” cried Douglas, unable to endure the strain. He + took one step inside the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “She's comin' to the hoops,” Jim whispered, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him,” 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> + “She's swayin',” Jim shrieked in agony. “She's goin' to fall.” 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> + “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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it over?” he groaned. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson—a thrill shot + through his veins. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Poll?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Muvver Jim!” 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> + “I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time,” he said, and he placed + her hand in that of the parson. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Muvver Jim,” faltered Polly. + </p> + <p> + He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. A mother's spirit + breathed through his kiss. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes travelled after him. + </p> + <p> + Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side. + </p> + <p> + “I belong with them,” she said, still gazing after Jim and the wagons. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die.” + </p> + <p> + He drew her into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.” + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Polly of the Circus, by Margaret Mayo + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLLY OF THE CIRCUS *** + +***** This file should be named 859-h.htm or 859-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/859/ + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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