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diff --git a/old/pcrcs10.txt b/old/pcrcs10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..997d8b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pcrcs10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4770 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo +#1 in our series by Margaret Mayo + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +POLLY OF THE CIRCUS BY MARGARET MAYO + + + + +To My "KLEINE MUTTER" + + + +Chapter I + +The band of the "Great American Circus" was playing noisily. The +performance was in full swing. + +Beside a shabby trunk in the women's dressing tent sat a young, +wistful-faced girl, chin in hand, unheeding the chatter of the +women about her or the picturesque disarray of the surrounding +objects. Her eyes had been so long accustomed to the glitter and +tinsel of circus fineries that she saw nothing unusual in a +picture that might have held a painter spellbound. + +Circling the inside of the tent and forming a double line down +the centre were partially unpacked trunks belching forth impudent +masses of satins, laces, artificial hair, paper flowers, and +paste jewels. The scent of moist earth mingled oddly with the +perfumed odours of the garments heaped on the grass. Here and +there high circles of lights threw a strong, steady glare upon +the half-clad figure of a robust acrobat, or the thin, drooping +shoulders of a less stalwart sister. Temporary ropes stretched +from one pole to another, were laden with bright- coloured +stockings, gaudy, spangled gowns, or dusty street clothes, +discarded by the performers before slipping into their circus +attire. There were no nails or hooks, so hats and veils were +pinned to the canvas walls. + +The furniture was limited to one camp chair in front of each +trunk, the till of which served as a tray for the paints, powders +and other essentials of "make-up." + +A pail of water stood by the side of each chair, so that the +performers might wash the delicately shaded tights, handkerchiefs +and other small articles not to be entrusted to the slow, +careless process of the village laundry. Some of these had been +washed to-night and hung to dry on the lines between the dusty +street garments. + +Women whose "turns" came late sat about half-clothed reading, +crocheting or sewing, while others added pencilled eyebrows, +powder or rouge to their already exaggerated "make-ups." Here +and there a child was putting her sawdust baby to sleep in the +till of her trunk, before beginning her part in the evening's +entertainment. Young and old went about their duties with a +systematic, business-like air, and even the little knot of +excited women near Polly--it seemed that one of the men had upset +a circus tradition--kept a sharp lookout for their "turns." + +"What do you think about it, Polly?" asked a handsome brunette, +as she surveyed herself in the costume of a Roman charioteer. + +"About what?" asked Polly vacantly. + +"Leave Poll alone; she's in one of her trances!" called a +motherly, good-natured woman whose trunk stood next to Polly's, +and whose business was to support a son and three daughters upon +stalwart shoulders, both figuratively and literally. + +"Well, _I_ ain't in any trance," answered the dark girl, "and _I_ +think it's pretty tough for him to take up with a rank outsider, +and expect us to warm up to her as though he'd married one of our +own folks." She tossed her head, the pride of class distinction +welling high in her ample bosom. + +"He ain't asking us to warm up to her," contradicted Mademoiselle +Eloise, a pale, light- haired sprite, who had arrived late and +was making undignified efforts to get out of her clothes by way +of her head. She was Polly's understudy and next in line for the +star place in the bill. + +"Well, Barker has put her into the 'Leap of Death' stunt, ain't +he?" continued the brunette. " 'Course that ain't a regular +circus act," she added, somewhat mollified, "and so far she's had +to dress with the 'freaks,' but the next thing we know, he'll be +ringin' her in on a regular stunt and be puttin' her in to dress +with US." + +"No danger of that," sneered the blonde; "Barker is too old a +stager to mix up his sheep and his goats." + +Polly had again lost the thread of the conversation. Her mind +had gone roving to the night when the frightened girl about whom +they were talking had made her first appearance in the circus +lot, clinging timidly to the hand of the man who had just made +her his wife. Her eyes had met Polly's, with a look of appeal +that had gone straight to the child's simple heart. + +A few nights later the newcomer had allowed herself to be +strapped into the cumbersome "Leap of Death" machine which hurled +itself through space at each performance, and flung itself down +with force enough to break the neck of any unskilled rider. +Courage and steady nerve were the requisites for the job, so the +manager had said; but any physician would have told him that only +a trained acrobat could long endure the nervous strain, the +muscular tension, and the physical rack of such an ordeal. + +What matter? The few dollars earned in this way would mean a +great deal to the mother, whom the girl's marriage had left +desolate. + +Polly had looked on hungrily the night that the mother had taken +the daughter in her arms to say farewell in the little country +town where the circus had played before her marriage. She could +remember no woman's arms about HER, for it was fourteen years +since tender hands had carried her mother from the performers' +tent into the moonlit lot to die. The baby was so used to seeing +"Mumsie" throw herself wearily on the ground after coming out of +the "big top" exhausted, that she crept to the woman's side as +usual that night, and gazed laughingly into the sightless eyes, +gurgling and prattling and stroking the unresponsive face. There +were tears from those who watched, but no word was spoken. + +Clown Toby and the big "boss canvas-man" Jim had always taken +turns amusing and guarding little Polly, while her mother rode in +the ring. So Toby now carried the babe to another side of the +lot, and Jim bore the lifeless body of the mother to the distant +ticket-wagon, now closed for the night, and laid it upon the +seller's cot. + +"It's allus like this in the end," he murmured, as he drew a +piece of canvas over the white face and turned away to give +orders to the men who were beginning to load the "props" used +earlier in the performance. + +When the show moved on that night it was Jim's strong arms that +lifted the mite of a Polly close to his stalwart heart, and +climbed with her to the high seat on the head wagon. Uncle Toby +was entrusted with the brown satchel in which the mother had +always carried Polly's scanty wardrobe. It seemed to these two +men that the eyes of the woman were fixed steadily upon them. + +Barker, the manager, a large, noisy, good-natured fellow, at +first mumbled something about the kid being "excess baggage," but +his objections were only half-hearted, for like the others, he +was already under the hypnotic spell of the baby's round, +confiding eyes, and he eventually contented himself with an +occasional reprimand to Toby, who was now sometimes late on his +cues. Polly wondered, at these times, why the old man's stories +were so suddenly cut short just as she was so "comfy" in the soft +grass at his feet. The boys who used to "look sharp" because of +their boss at loading time, now learned that they might loiter so +long as "Muvver Jim" was "hikin' it round for the kid." It was +Polly who had dubbed big Jim "Muvver," and the sobriquet had +stuck to him in spite of his six feet two, and shoulders that an +athlete might have envied. Little by little, Toby grew more +stooped and small lines of anxiety crept into the brownish +circles beneath Jim's eyes, the lips that had once shut so firmly +became tender and tremulous, but neither of the men would +willingly have gone back to the old emptiness. + +It was a red letter day in the circus, when Polly first managed +to climb up on the pole of an unhitched wagon and from there to +the back of a friendly, Shetland pony. Jim and Toby had been +"neglectin' her eddication" they declared, and from that time on, +the blood of Polly's ancestors was given full encouragement. + +Barker was quick to grasp the advantage of adding the kid to the +daily parade. She made her first appearance in the streets upon +something very like a Newfoundland dog, guarded from the rear by +Jim, and from the fore by a white-faced clown who was thought to +be all the funnier because he twisted his neck so much. + +From the street parade to Polly's first appearance in the "big +top," had seemed a short while to Jim and Toby. They were proud +to see her circling the ring in bright colours and to hear the +cheers of the people, but a sense of loss was upon them. + +"I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who now took upon +himself the credit of Polly's triumph. + +And what a triumph it was! + +Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done +on the "concert boards." She swayed gracefully with the music. +Her tiny sandals twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and +then upon the other. + +Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim +left the loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he +hovered near the entrance, anxious and breathless. The +performers crowded around the girl with outstretched hands and +congratulations, as she came out of the ring to cheers and +applause. + +But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his +clumsy fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too +small for them and of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and +Toby was remembering the little shoes that had once needed to be +laced in the cold, dark mornings, and the strings that were +always snapping. + +Something had gone. + +They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for +everything we lose we gain something; they were simple souls, +these two, they could only feel. + + + +Chapter II + +WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to +the chatter about the "Leap of Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot +outside, opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had +bought for her that day. He was as blind to the picturesque +outdoor life as she to her indoor surroundings, for he, too, had +been with the circus since his earliest recollection. + +The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of +tents and wagons. The great, red property vans were waiting to +be loaded with the costumes and tackle which were constantly +being brought from the "big top," where the evening performance +was now going on. The gay striped curtains at the rear of the +tent were looped back to give air to the panting musicians, who +sat just inside. Through the opening, a glimpse of the audience +might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and shifting uneasily. +Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing "top," with the +women performers stowed away in one end, the "ring horses" in the +centre, and the men performers in the other end. + +A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing +tent, to shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the +back lot for a glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring. + +Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and +floated in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the +other side to make haste to get their places, forget their cares, +and be children again. + +Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red +fire shot into the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut +"butchers," the popcorn boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the +exhortations of the side-show "spieler," whose flying banners +bore the painted reproductions of his "freaks." Here and there +stood unhitched chariots, half filled trunks, trapeze tackle, +paper hoops, stake pullers or other "properties" necessary to the +show. + +Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and +lanterns gave light for the loading of the wagons. + +There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the +dressing tent to the "big top," as gaily decked men, women and +animals came or went. + +Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn +to be dressed as lions or bears. The wise old goose, with his +modest grey mate, pecked at the green grass or turned his head +from side to side, watching the singing clown, who rolled up the +painted carcass and long neck of the imitation giraffe from which +two property men had just slipped, their legs still encased in +stripes. + +Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in +the hope of some day getting into the performers' ring. Property +men stole a minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they +waited for more tackle to load in the wagons. Children of the +performers were swinging on the tent ropes, chattering monkeys +sat astride the Shetland ponies, awaiting their entrance to the +ring. The shrieks of the hyenas in the distant animal tent, the +roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the elephants mingled +with the incessant clamour of the band. And back of all this, +pointing upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire, +white and majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit +hills, that encircled the whole lurid picture. Jim's eyes turned +absently toward the church as he sat fumbling with the lock of +the little brown satchel. + +He had gone from store to store in the various towns where they +had played looking for something to inspire wonder in the heart +of a miss, newly arrived at her sixteenth year. Only the +desperation of a last moment had forced him to decide upon the +imitation alligator bag, which he now held in his hand. + +It looked small and mean to him as the moment of presentation +approached, and he was glad that the saleswoman in the little +country store had suggested the addition of ribbons and laces, +which he now drew from the pocket of his corduroys. He placed +his red and blue treasures very carefully in the bottom of the +satchel, and remembered with regret the strand of coral beads +which he had so nearly bought to go with them. + +He opened the large property trunk by his side, and took from it +a laundry box, which held a little tan coat, that was to be +Toby's contribution to the birthday surprise. He was big- +hearted enough to be glad that Toby's gift seemed finer and more +useful than his. + +It was only when the "Leap of Death" act preceding Polly's turn +was announced, that the big fellow gave up feasting his eyes on +the satchel and coat, and hid them away in the big property +trunk. She would be out in a minute, and these wonders were not +to be revealed to her until the close of the night's performance. + +Jim put down the lid of the trunk and sat upon it, feeling like a +criminal because he was hiding something from Polly. + +His consciousness of guilt was increased as he recalled how often +she had forbidden Toby and himself to rush into reckless +extravagances for her sake, and how she had been more nearly +angry than he had ever seen her, when they had put their month's +salaries together to buy her the spangled dress for her first +appearance. It had taken a great many apologies and promises as +to their future behaviour to calm her, and now they had again +disobeyed her. It would be a great relief when to-night's ordeal +was over. + +Jim watched Polly uneasily as she came from the dressing tent and +stopped to gaze at the nearby church steeple. The incongruity of +the slang, that soon came from her delicately formed lips, was +lost upon him as she turned her eyes toward him. + +"Say, Jim," she said, with a Western drawl, "them's a funny lot +of guys what goes to them church places, ain't they?" + +"Most everybody has got some kind of a bug," Jim assented; "I +guess they don't do much harm." + +" 'Member the time you took me into one of them places to get me +out a the rain, the Sunday our wagon broke down? Well, that bunch +WE butted into wouldn't a give Sell's Brothers no cause for worry +with that show a' theirn, would they, Jim?" She looked at him +with withering disgust. "Say, wasn't that the punkiest stunt +that fellow in black was doin' on the platform? You said Joe was +only ten minutes gettin' the tire onto our wheel, but say, you +take it from me, Jim, if I had to wait another ten minutes as +long as that one, I'd be too old to go on a-ridin'." + +Jim " 'lowed" some church shows might be better than "that un," +but Polly said he could have her end of the bet, and summed up by +declaring it no wonder that the yaps in these towns was daffy +about circuses, if they didn't have nothin' better an' church +shows to go to. + +One of the grooms was entering the lot with Polly's horse. She +stooped to tighten one of her sandals, and as she rose, Jim saw +her sway slightly and put one hand to her head. He looked at her +sharply, remembering her faintness in the parade that morning. + +"You ain't feeling right," he said uneasily. + +"You just bet I am," Polly answered with an independent toss of +her head. "This is the night we're goin' to make them rubes in +there sit up, ain't it, Bingo?" she added, placing one arm +affectionately about the neck of the big, white horse that stood +waiting near the entrance. + +"You bin ridin' too reckless lately," said Jim, sternly, as he +followed her. "I don't like it. There ain't no need of your +puttin' in all them extra stunts. Your act is good enough +without 'em. Nobody else ever done 'em, an' nobody'd miss 'em if +you left 'em out." + +Polly turned with a triumphant ring in her voice. The music was +swelling for her entrance. + +"You ain't my MOTHER, Jim, you're my GRANDmother," she taunted; +and, with a crack of her whip she was away on Bingo's back. + +"It's the spirit of the dead one that's got into her," Jim +mumbled as he turned away, still seeing the flash in the +departing girl's eyes. + + + +Chapter III + +Polly and Bingo always made the audience "sit up" when they swept +into the ring. She was so young, so gaily clad, so light and +joyous in all her poses. She seemed scarcely to touch the back +of the white horse, as they dashed round the ring in the glare of +the tent lights. The other performers went through their work +mechanically while Polly rode, for they knew the audience was +watching her only. + +As for Polly, her work had never lost its first interest. Jim +may have been right when he said that the spirit of the dead +mother had got into her; but it must have been an unsatisfied +spirit, unable to fulfil its ambition in the body that once held +it, for it sometimes played strange pranks with Polly. To-night, +her eyes shone and her lips were parted in anticipation, as she +leaped lightly over the many coloured streamers of the wheel of +silken ribbons held by Barker in the centre of the ring, and by +Toby and the "tumblers" on the edge of the bank. + +With each change of her act, the audience cheered and frantically +applauded. The band played faster; Bingo's pace increased; the +end of her turn was coming. The "tumblers" arranged themselves +around the ring with paper hoops; Bingo was fairly racing. She +went through the first hoop with a crash of tearing paper and +cheers from the audience. + +"Heigh, Bingo!" she shouted, as she bent her knees to make ready +for the final leap. + +Bingo's neck was stretched. He had never gone so fast before. +Barker looked uneasy. Toby forgot to go on with his accustomed +tricks. Jim watched anxiously from the entrance. + +The paper of one hoop was still left unbroken. The attendant +turned his eyes to glance at the oncoming girl; the hoop shifted +slightly in his clumsy hand as Polly leapt straight up from +Bingo's back, trusting to her first calculation. Her forehead +struck the edge of the hoop. She clutched wildly at the air. +Bingo galloped on, and she fell to the ground, striking her head +against the iron-bound stake at the edge of the ring. + +Everything stopped. There was a gasp of horror; the musicians +dropped their instruments; Bingo halted and looked back uneasily; +she lay unconscious and seemingly lifeless. + +A great cry went up in the tent. Panic- stricken, men, women and +children began to clamber down from their seats, while others +nearest the ground attempted to jump into the ring. Barker, +still grasping his long whip, rushed to the girl's side, and +shouted wildly to Toby: + +"Say something, you. Get 'em back!" + +Old Toby turned his white face to the crowd, his features worked +convulsively, but he could not speak. His grief was so +grotesque, that the few who saw him laughed hysterically. He +could not even go to Polly, his feet seemed pinned to the earth. + +Jim rushed into the tent at the first cry of the audience. He +lifted the limp form tenderly, and kneeling in the ring held her +bruised head in his hands. + +"Can't you get a doctor!" he shouted desperately to Barker. + +"Here's the doctor!" some one called; and a stranger came toward +them. He bent over the seemingly lifeless form, his fingers on +the tiny wrist, his ear to the heart. + +"Well, sir?" Jim faltered, for he had caught the puzzled look in +the doctor's eyes as his deft hand pressed the cruelly wounded +head. + +"I can't tell just yet," said the doctor. "She must be taken +away." + +"Where can we take her?" asked Jim, a look of terror in his +great, troubled eyes. + +"The parsonage is the nearest house," said the doctor. "I am +sure the pastor will be glad to have her there until we can find +out how badly she is hurt." + +In an instant Barker was back in the centre of the ring. He +announced that Polly's injuries were slight, called the attention +of the audience to the wonderful concert to take place, and bade +them make ready for the thrilling chariot race which would end +the show. + +Jim, blind with despair, lifted the light burden and staggered +out of the tent, while the band played furiously and the people +fell back into their seats. The Roman chariots thundered and +clattered around the outside of the ring, the audience cheered +the winner of the race, and for the moment Polly was forgotten. + + + +Chapter IV + +THE blare of the circus band had been a sore temptation to Mandy +Jones all afternoon and evening. Again and again it had dragged +her from her work to the study window, from which she could see +the wonders so tantalisingly near. Mandy was housekeeper for the +Rev. John Douglas, but the unwashed supper dishes did not +trouble her, as she watched the lumbering elephants, the restless +lions, the long-necked giraffes and the striped zebras, that came +and went in the nearby circus lot. And yet, in spite of her own +curiosity, she could not forgive her vagrant "worse half," Hasty, +who had been lured from duty early in the day. She had once +dubbed him Hasty, in a spirit of derision, and the name had clung +to him. The sarcasm seemed doubly appropriate to-night, for he +had been away since ten that morning, and it was now past nine. + +The young pastor for a time had enjoyed Mandy's tirades against +her husband, but when she began calling shrilly out of the window +to chance acquaintances for news of him, he slipped quietly into +the next room to finish to-morrow's sermon. Mandy renewed her +operations at the window with increased vigour when the pastor +had gone. She was barely saved from pitching head foremost into +the lot, by the timely arrival of Deacon Strong's daughter, who +managed, with difficulty, to connect the excited woman's feet +with the floor. + +"Foh de Lor' sake!" Mandy gasped, as she stood panting for breath +and blinking at the pretty, young, apple-faced Julia; "I was suah +most gone dat time." Then followed another outburst against the +delinquent Hasty. + +But the deacon's daughter did not hear; her eyes were already +wandering anxiously to the lights and the tinsel of the little +world beyond the window. + +This was not the first time to-day that Mandy had found herself +talking to space. There had been a steady stream of callers at +the parsonage since eleven that morning, but she had long ago +confided to the pastor that she suspected their reasons. + +"Dey comes in here a-trackin' up my floors," she said, "and +a-askin' why you don' stop de circus from a-showin' nex' to de +church and den a-cranin' afar necks out de winder, till I can't +get no housework done." + +"That's only human nature," Douglas had answered with a laugh; +but Mandy had declared that she knew another name for it, and had +mumbled something about "hypocritters," as she seized her broom +and began to sweep imaginary tracks from in front of the door. + +Many times she had made up her mind to let the next caller know +just what she thought of "hypocritters," but her determination +was usually weakened by her still greater desire to excite +increased wonder in the faces of her visitors. + +Divided between these two inclinations, she gazed at Julia now; +the shining eyes of the deacon's daughter conquered, and she +launched forth into an eager description of how she had just seen +a "wondeful striped anamule" with a "pow'ful long neck walk right +out of the tent," and how he had "come apart afore her very +eyes," and two men had slipped "right out a' his insides." Mandy +was so carried away by her own eloquence and so busy showing +Julia the sights beyond the window, that she did not hear Miss +Perkins, the thin-lipped spinster, who entered, followed by the +Widow Willoughby dragging her seven-year-old son Willie by the +hand. + +The women were protesting because their choir practice of "What +Shall the Harvest Be?" had been interrupted by the unrequested +acompaniment{sic} of the "hoochie coochie" from the nearby circus +band. + +"It's scandalous!" Miss Perkins snapped. "Scandalous! And +SOMEBODY ought to stop it." She glanced about with an +unmistakable air of grievance at the closed doors, feeling that +the pastor was undoubtedly behind one of them, when he ought to +be out taking action against the things that her soul abominated. + +"Well, I'm sure I'VE done all that _I_ could," piped the widow, +with a meek, martyred air. She was always martyred. She +considered it an appropriate attitude for a widow. "He can't +blame ME if the choir is out of key to-morrow." "Mercy me!" +interrupted the spinster, "if there isn't Julia Strong a-leaning +right out of that window a-looking at the circus, and her pa a +deacon of the church, and this the house of the pastor. It's +shocking! I must go to her." + +"Ma, let me see, too," begged Willie, as he tugged at his +mother's skirts. + +Mrs. Willoughby hesitated. Miss Perkins was certainly taking a +long while for her argument with Julia. The glow from the red +powder outside the window was positively alarming. + +"Dear me!" she said, "I wonder if there can be a fire." And with +this pretext for investigation, she, too, joined the little group +at the window. + +A few moments later when Douglas entered for a fresh supply of +paper, the backs of the company were toward him. He crossed to +the study table without disturbing his visitors, and smiled to +himself at the eager way in which they were hanging out of the +window. + +Douglas was a sturdy young man of eight and twenty, frank and +boyish in manner, confident and light-hearted in spirit. He had +seemed too young to the deacons when he was appointed to their +church, and his keen enjoyment of outdoor games and other +healthful sports robbed him of a certain dignity in their eyes. +Some of the women of the congregation had been inclined to side +with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that the pastor found +so many other interests when he might have been sitting in dark, +stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had been +either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had +gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction +of right, that had only left them floundering. He intended to +quit the room now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset +a chair as he turned from the table. This brought a chorus of +exclamations from the women, who chattering rushed quickly toward +him. + +"What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?" simpered the +widow. "He dragged me quite to the window." + +Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five- foot-six widow and +then at the helpless, red- haired urchin by her side, but he made +no comment beyond offering a chair to each of the women. + +"Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued," declared +Miss Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair, +adjusted her skirts for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the +parson, who had dutifully seated himself near the table. + +"I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody," whimpered the +widow, with an injured air; "but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What +Shall the Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT." She +jerked her hand in the direction of the window. The band was +again playing the "hoochie coochie." + +"Never mind about the choir practice," said Douglas, with a +smile. "It is SOUL not SKILL that our congregation needs in its +music. As for that music out there, it is NOT without its +compensations. Why, the small boys would rather hear that band +than the finest church organ in the world." + +"And the SMALL BOYS would rather see the circus than to hear you +preach, most likely," snapped Miss Perkins. It was adding insult +to injury for him to try to CONSOLE her. + +"Of course they would; and so would some of the grown-ups if +they'd only tell the truth about it," said Douglas, laughing. + +"What!" exclaimed Miss Perkins. + +"Why not?" asked Douglas. "I am sure I don't know what they do +inside the tents, but the parade looked very promising." + +"The PARADE!" the two women echoed in one breath. "Did YOU see +the parade?" + +"Yes, indeed," said Douglas, enthusiastically. "But it didn't +compare with the one I saw at the age of eight." He turned his +head to one side and looked into space with a reminiscent smile. +The widow's red-haired boy crept close to him. + +"The Shetland ponies seemed as small as mice," he continued, +dreamily, "the elephants huge as mountains, the great calliope +wafted my soul to the very skies, and I followed that parade +right into the circus lot." + +"Did you seed inside de tent?" Willie asked, eagerly. + +"I didn't have enough money for that," Douglas answered, frankly. +He turned to the small boy and pinched his ear. There was sad +disappointment in the youngster's face, but he brightened again, +when the parson confessed that he "peeped." + +"A parson peeping!" cried the thin-lipped Miss Perkins. + +"I was not a parson then," corrected Douglas, good-naturedly. + +"You were GOING to be," persisted the spinster. + +"I had to be a boy first, in spite of that fact." + +The sudden appearance of Hasty proved a diversion. He was +looking very sheepish. + +"Hyar he is, Mars John; look at him!" said Mandy. + +"Hasty, where have you been all day?" demanded Douglas, severely. + +Hasty fumbled with his hat and sparred for time. "Did yo' say +whar's I been, sah?" + +"Dat's what he done ast yo'," Mandy prompted, threateningly. + +"I bin 'ceived, Mars John," declared Hasty, solemnly. Mandy +snorted incredulously. Douglas waited. + +"A gemmen in de circus done tole me dis mawnin' dat ef I carry +water fo' de el'phants, he'll let me in de circus fo' nuffin', +an' I make a 'greement wid him. Mars John, did yo' ebber seed +an' el'phant drink?" he asked, rolling his eyes. John shook his +head. + +"Well, sah, he jes' put dat trunk a'his'n into de pail, jes' once +an--swish--water gone." + +Douglas laughed; and Mandy muttered, sullenly. + +"Well, sah," continued Hasty, "I tote water fo' dem el'phants all +day long, an' when I cum roun' to see de circus, de gemmen won't +let me in. An' when I try to crawl under de tent, dey pulls me +out by de laigs an' beats me." He looked from one to the other +expecting sympathy. + +"Serves you right," was Mandy's unfeeling reply. "If yo's so +anxious to be a-totin' water, jes' yo' come along outside and +tote some fo' Mandy." + +"I can't do no mo' carryin', Mandy," protested Hasty. "I'se +hurted in mah arm." + +"What hurt yo'?" + +"Tiger." + +"A tiger?" exclaimed the women in unison. + +"Done chawed it mos' off," he declared, solemnly. "Deacon +Elverson, he seed it, an' he says I's hurt bad." + +"Deacon Elverson?" cried the spinster. "Was Deacon Elverson at +the circus?" + +"He was in de lot, a-tryin' to look in, same as me," Hasty +answered, innocently. + +"You'd better take Hasty into the kitchen," said Douglas to +Mandy, with a dry smile; "he's talking too much for a wounded +man." + +Mandy disappeared with the disgraced Hasty, advising him with +fine scorn "to get de tiger to chew off his laigs, so's he +wouldn't have to walk no mo'." + +The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly. +Elverson's behaviour was beyond their power of expression. Miss +Perkins turned to the pastor, as though he were somehow to blame +for the deacon's backsliding, but before she could find words to +argue the point, the timid little deacon appeared in the doorway, +utterly unconscious of the hostile reception that Hasty had +prepared for him. He glanced nervously from one set face to the +other, then coughed behind his hat, + +"We're all very much interested in the circus," said Douglas. +"Can't you tell us about it?" + +"I just went into the lot to look for my son," stammered the +deacon. "I feared Peter had strayed." + +"Why, deacon," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I just stopped by your +house and saw Mrs. Elverson putting Peter to bed." + +The deacon was saved from further embarrassment by an exclamation +from Julia, who had stayed at the window. "Oh, look; something +has happened!" she cried. "There's a crowd. They are coming +this way." + +Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side, and saw an excited mob +collecting before the entrance to the main tent. He had time to +discover no more before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with +excitement and rolling her large, white-rimmed eyeballs. + +"Mars John, a little circus girl done fall off her hoss!" she +cried. "Dr. Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?" + +"Of course," said Douglas, hurrying outside. + +There were horrified exclamations from the women, who were aghast +at the idea of a circus rider in the parsonage. In their +helpless indignation, they turned upon the little deacon, feeling +intuitively that he was enjoying the drama. Elverson was +retreating toward the door when he was suddenly thrust aside by +Douglas. + +In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of +humanity, her slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder. The +silk stocking was torn from one bruised ankle; her hair fell +across her face, veiling it from the unfriendly glances of the +women. Douglas passed out of sight up the stairway without +looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor. + +Mandy reached the front door in time to push back a crowd of +intruders. She had barely closed the door when it was thrust +open by Jim. + +"Where is she?" he demanded. + +"Go 'way f'um here!" cried Mandy, as her eyes unconsciously +sought the stairs. + +Jim followed the direction of her glance, and cleared the steps +at a bound. Mandy pursued him, muttering angrily. Deacon +Elverson, too, was about to follow, when a grim reminder from +Miss Perkins brought him around and he made for the door instead. +He started back on opening it, for standing on the threshold was +a clown in his grotesque "make-up"; his white clothes were +partially concealed by a large, travelling ulster, held together +by one button. In one hand he carried a small leather satchel; +in the other a girl's sailor hat; a little tan coat was thrown +across his arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his +mother's skirt were the only greetings received by the trembling +old man in the doorway. + +He glanced uncertainly from one unfriendly face to the other, +waiting for a word of invitation to enter; but none came. + +"Excuse me," he said; "I just brought some of her little things. +She'd better put on her coat when she goes out. It's gettin' +kinder chilly." + +He looked again into the blank faces; still no one spoke. He +stepped forward, trembling with anxiety. A sudden fear clutched +at his heart, the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red +painted lips began to quiver. + +"It ain't-- It ain't that, is it?" he faltered, unable to utter +the word that filled him with horror. + +Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the +old man's voice. "I guess you will find the person you are +looking for upstairs," she answered tartly; and flounced out of +the house, calling to Julia and the others to follow her, and +declaring that she would soon let folks know how the parson had +brought a "circus ridin' girl" into the parsonage. + +The painted clown stood alone, looking from one wall to the +other, then he crossed the room and placed the alligator satchel +and the little coat and hat on the study table. He was careful +not to wrinkle the coat, for this was Polly's birthday gift. Jim +and he had planned to have sandwiches and soda pop on the top of +the big wagon when they offered their treasures tonight; but now +the wagons would soon be leaving--and where was Polly? He turned +to ask this question as Mandy came down the stairs. + +"Well, if dar ain't anudder one," she cried. + +"Never mind, Mandy," said Douglas, who was just behind her, +carrying a small water pitcher, and searching for a bottle of +brandy which had been placed in the medicine chest for +emergencies. + +"You can take these upstairs," he told her, when he had filled +the pitcher with water and found the liquor. Mandy looked +threateningly at Toby, then reluctantly went on her way. + +Douglas turned to the old man pleasantly. His was the first +greeting that Toby had received, and he at last found voice to +ask whether Polly was badly hurt. + +"The doctor hasn't told us yet," said Douglas, kindly. + +"I'm her Uncle Toby--not her REAL uncle," the old man explained, +"but that's what she calls me. I couldn't come out right away, +because I'm on in the concert. Could I see her now, please?" + +"Here's the doctor," said Douglas, as Hartley came down the +stairs, followed by Jim. "Well, doctor, not bad, I hope?" + +"Yes, rather bad," said the doctor, adding quickly, as he saw the +suffering in Toby's face, "but don't be alarmed. She's going to +get well." + +"How long will it be before we can have her back--before she can +ride again?" asked Jim gruffly, as he stood apart, twisting his +brown, worn hat in his hands. + +"Probably several months," said the doctor. "No bones are +broken, but the ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received +a bad blow on the head. It will be some time before she recovers +consciousness." +"What are we goin' to do, Jim?" asked Toby, helplessly. + +"You needn't worry, we'll take good care of her here," said +Douglas, seeing desperation written on their faces. + +"Here?" They looked at him incredulously.-- And this was a +parson! + +"Where are her parents?" the doctor asked, looking at Jim and +Toby. + +"She ain't got no parents 'cept Toby an' me," replied Jim. +"We've took care of her ever since she was a baby." + +"Oh, I see," said the doctor. "Well, one of you'd better stay +here until she can be moved." + +"That's the trouble; we can't," said Toby, hanging his head. +"You see, sir, circus folks is like soldiers. No matter what +happens, the show has to go on, and we got to be in our places." + +"Well, well, she'll be safe enough, here," said the doctor. "It +is a fortunate thing that Mr. Douglas can manage this. Our town +hospital burned down a few months ago, and we've been rather +puzzled as to what to do with such cases." He took his leave +with a cheery "Good night," and a promise to look in upon the +little patient later. Jim shuffled awkwardly toward the pastor. + +"It's mighty good of you to do this," he mumbled, "but she ain't +goin' to be no charity patient. Me and Toby is goin' to look +after her keep." + +"Her wants will be very few," Douglas answered, kindly. "You +needn't trouble much about that." + +"I mean it," said Jim, savagely. He met Douglas's glance of +surprise with a determined look, for he feared that his chance of +being useful to Polly might be slipping out of his life. + +"You mustn't mind Jim," the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. +"You see pain gets some folks different from others; and it +always kinder makes him savage." + +"Oh, that's all right," Douglas answered, quickly. His own life +had been so lonely, that he could understand the selfish yearning +in the big man's heart. "You must do what you think best about +these things; Mandy and I will look after the rest." + +Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen +straight into his heart and discovered his petty weakness. He +was about to turn toward the door when it was thrown open by +Barker. + +"Where is she?" shouted the manager, looking from one to the +other. + +"She can't come," said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew +the storm of opposition with which Barker would meet the +announcement. + +"Can't come?" shrieked Barker. "Of course she'll come. I can't +get along without her. She's GOT to come." He looked at Jim, +who remained silent and firm. "WHY ain't she comin'?" he asked, +feeling himself already defeated. + +"She's hurt bad," was Jim's laconic reply. + +"The devil she is!" said Barker, looking at Douglas for +confirmation. "Is that right?" + +"She won't be able to travel for some time," said Douglas. + +"Mr. Barker is our manager," Toby explained, as he edged his way +to the pastor's side. + +"Some time!" Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame +for their misfortune. "Well, you just bet she will," he declared +menacingly. + +"See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that," said Jim, +facing the manager. "He's darned square even if he is a parson." +Barker turned away. He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was +irritated and upset at losing the star feature of his bill. + +"Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?" he muttered to himself, as his +eye again travelled to the boss canvas-man. "You get out a' +here, Jim," he shouted, "an' start them wagons. The show's got +to go on, Poll or no Poll." + +He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a +grudging thanks to the pastor. "It's all fired good of you to +take her in," he said, "but it's tough to lose her. Good night!" +He banged the door and clattered down the steps. + +Jim waited. He was trying to find words in which to tell his +gratitude. None came; and he turned to go with a short +"good-bye!" + +"Good night, Jim," said the pastor. He crossed the room and took +the big fellow's hand. + +"Much obliged," Jim answered gruffly. It was his only polite +phrase, and he had taught Polly to say it. Douglas waited until +Jim had passed down the steps, then turned to Toby, who still +lingered near the table. + +"You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without +sayin' 'good-bye,' won't you, sir?" Toby pleaded. + +"Yes, indeed," Douglas promised. + +"I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel." He +picked up the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's +birthday gift. "Me an' Jim will be sendin' her more soon." + +"You're going to miss her, I'm afraid," Douglas said, feeling an +irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence. + +"Lord bless you, yes, sir," Toby answered, turning upon him +eagerly. "Me an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about +everythin' to that little one. She wan't much bigger'n a handful +of peanuts when we begun a-worryin' about her." + +"Well, Mandy will do the worrying now," Douglas laughed. "She's +been dying for a chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she +even tried it on me." + +"I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look +kinder queer at me," said Toby, "and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe +they might feel the same about her." + +"Oh, they're all right," Douglas assured him; "they'll be her +friends in no time." + +"She's fit for 'em, sir," Toby pleaded. "She's good, clean into +the middle of her heart." + +"I'm sure of it," Douglas answered. + +"I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people, +sir, and I jes' wanted ye to know that there ain't finer +families, or better mothers or fathers or grandfathers or +grandmothers anywhere than we got among us. Why, that girl's +mother rode the horses afore her, and her mother afore that, and +her grandmother and grandfather afore that, an' there ain't +nobody what's cared more for their good name and their children's +good name an' her people has. You see, sir, circus folks is all +like that; they's jes' like one big family; they tends to their +business and takes good care o' theirselves--they has to --or +they couldn't do their work. It's 'cause I'm leavin' her with +you that I'm sayin' all this," the old man apologised. + +"I'm glad you told me, Toby," Douglas answered, kindly. "I've +never known much about circus folks." + +"I guess I'd better be goin'," Toby faltered, as his eyes roved +hungrily toward the stairway. + +"I'll send you our route, and mebbe you'll be lettin' us know how +she is." + +"Indeed I will," Douglas assured him, heartily. + +"You might tell her we'll write ever' day or so," he added. + +"I'll tell her," Douglas promised earnestly. + +"Good night!" The old man hesitated, unwilling to go, but unable +to find further pretext for staying. + +"Good night, Toby." Douglas extended his hand toward the bent +figure that was about to shuffle past him. The withered hand of +the white-faced clown rested in the strong grasp of the pastor, +and his pale, little eyes sought the face of the stalwart man +before him; a numb desolation was growing in his heart; the +object for which he had gone on day by day was being left behind +and he must stumble forth into the night alone. + +"It's hard to leave her," he mumbled; "but the show has got to go +on." + +The door shut out the bent, old figure. Douglas stood for some +time where Toby had left him, still thinking of his prophetic +words. His revery was broken by the sounds of the departing +wagons, the low muttered curses of the drivers, the shrieking and +roaring of the animals, as the circus train moved up the distant +hill. "The show has got to go on," he repeated as he crossed to +his study table and seated himself for work in the dim light of +the old-fashioned lamp. He put out one hand to draw the sheets +of his interrupted sermon toward him, but instead it fell upon a +small sailor hat. He twisted the hat absently in his fingers, +not yet realising the new order of things that was coming into +his life. Mandy tiptoed softly down the stairs. She placed one +pudgy forefinger on her lips, and rolled her large eyes skyward. +"Dat sure am an angel chile straight from Hebben," she whispered. +"She done got a face jes' like a little flower." + +"Straight from heaven," Douglas repeated, as she crossed softly +to the table and picked up the satchel and coat. + +"You can leave the lamp, Mandy--I must finish to-morrow's +sermon." + +She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as +she saw the imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's +face. + +"Yo' mus' be pow'ful tired," she said. + +"No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy!" + +She closed the door behind her, and Douglas was alone. He gazed +absently at the pages of his unfinished sermon as he tapped his +idle pen on the desk. "The show has got to go on," he repeated, +and far up the hillside with the slow- moving wagons, Jim and +Toby looked with unseeing eyes into the dim, star-lit distance, +and echoed the thought: "The show has got to go on." + + + +Chapter V + +THE church bells were ringing their first warning for the morning +service when Mandy peeped into the spare bedroom for the second +time, and glanced cautiously at the wisp of hair that bespoke a +feminine head somewhere between the covers and the little white +pillow on the four- poster bed. There was no sound from the +sleeper, so Mandy ventured across the room on tiptoe and raised +the shades. The drooping boughs of Autumn foliage lay shimmering +against the window panes, and through them might be seen the grey +outline of the church. Mandy glanced again toward the bed to +make sure that the burst of sunlight had not wakened the invalid, +then crossed to a small, rickety chair, laden with the discarded +finery of the little circus rider. + +"Lawdy sakes!" she cried, holding up a spangled dress, +admiringly. "Ain't dat beautiful!" She drew near the mirror, +attempting to see the reflection of the tinsel and chiffon +against her very ample background of gingham and avoirdupois. +"You'd sure be a swell nigger wid dat on, Honey," she chuckled to +herself. "Wouldn't dem deacons holler if dey done see dat?" + +The picture of the deacons' astonishment at such a spectacle so +grew upon Mandy, that she was obliged to cover her generous mouth +to shut in her convulsive laughter, lest it awaken the little +girl in the bed. She crossed to the old-fashioned bureau which +for many months had stood unused against the wall. The drawer +creaked as she opened it to lay away the gay, spangled gown. + +"It'll be a mighty long time afore she puts on dem tings agin," +she said, with a doubtful shake of her large, round head. + +Then she went back to the chair and picked up Polly's sandals, +and examined the bead-work with a great deal of interest. +"Lawdy, lawdy!" she cried, as she compared the size of the +sandals to that of her own rough, worn shoes. She was again upon +the point of exploding with laughter, as the church bell added a +few, final and more emphatic clangs to its warning. + +She turned with a start, motioning a vain warning out of the +window for the bell to be silent, but the little sleeper was +already stirring uneasily on her pillow. One soft arm was thrown +languidly over her head. The large, blue eyes opened and closed +dreamily as she murmured the words of the clown song that Jim and +Toby had taught her years ago: + +"Ting ling, + +That's what the bells sing----" + +Mandy reached the side of the bed as the girl's eyes opened a +second time and met hers with a blank stare of astonishment. A +tiny frown came into the small, white forehead. + +"What's the matter?" she asked faintly, trying to find something +familiar in the black face before her. + +"Hush, child, hush," Mandy whispered; "jes' you lie puffickly +still. Dat's only de furs' bell a-ringin'." + +"First bell?" the girl repeated, as her eyes travelled quickly +about the strange walls and the unfamiliar fittings of the room. +"This ain't the show!" she cried, suddenly. + +"Lor' bless you, no; dis ain't no show," Mandy answered; and she +laughed reassuringly. + +"Then where am I?" Polly asked, half breathless with +bewilderment. + +"Nebber you mind 'bout dat," was Mandy's unsatisfactory reply. + +"But I DO mind," protested Polly, trying to raise herself to a +sitting position. "Where's the bunch?" + +"De wat?" asked Mandy in surprise. + +"The bunch--Jim and Toby and the rest of the push!" + +"Lor' bless you!" Mandy exclaimed. "Dey's done gone 'long wid de +circus, hours ago." + +"Gone! Show gone!" Polly cried in amazement. "Then what am I +doing here?" + +"Hole on dar, honey! hole on!" Mandy cautioned. "Don't you 'cite +yo'se'f." + +"Let me alone!" Polly put aside the arm that was trying to place +a shawl around her. "I got to get out a-here." + +"You'se got plenty o' time for dat," Mandy answered. "yes' yo' +wait awhile." + +"I can't wait, and I won't!" Polly shrieked, almost beside +herself with anxiety. "I got to get to the next burg--Wakefield, +ain't it? What time is it? Let me alone! Let me go!" she cried, +struggling desperately. + +The door opened softly and the young pastor stood looking down at +the picture of the frail, white-faced child, and her black, +determined captor. + +"Here, here! What's all this about?" he asked, in a firm tone, +though evidently amused. + +"Who are you?" returned the girl, as she shoved herself quickly +back against the pillows and drew the covers close under her +chin, looking at him oddly over their top. + +"She done been cuttin' up somefin' awful," Mandy explained, as +she tried to regain enough breath for a new encounter. + +"Cutting up? You surprise me, Miss Polly," he said, with mock +seriousness. + +"How do you know I'm Polly?" the little rebel asked, her eyes +gleaming large and desperate above the friendly covers. + +"If you will be VERY good and keep very quiet, I will try to tell +you," he said, as he crossed to the bed. + +"I won't be quiet, not for nobody," Polly objected, with a bold +disregard of double negatives. "I got to get a move. If you +ain't goin' to help me, you needn't butt in." + +"I am afraid I can't help you to go just yet," Douglas replied. +He was beginning to perceive that there were tasks before him +other than the shaping of Polly's character. + +"What are you trying to do to me, anyhow?" she asked, as she shot +a glance of suspicion from the pastor to Mandy. "What am I up +against?" + +"Don't yuh be scared, honey," Mandy reassured her. "You's jes' +as safe here as you done been in de circus." + +"Safer, we hope," Douglas added, with a smile. + +"Are you two bug?" Polly questioned, as she turned her head from +one side to the other and studied them with a new idea. "Well, +you can't get none the best of me. I can get away all right, and +I will, too." + +She made a desperate effort to put one foot to the floor, but +fell back with a cry of pain. + +"Dar, dar," Mandy murmured, putting the pillow under the poor, +cramped neck, and smoothing the tangled hair from Polly's +forehead. "Yuh done hurt yo'sef for suah dis time." + +The pastor had taken a step toward the bed. His look of +amusement had changed to one of pity. + +"You see, Miss Polly, you have had a very bad fall, and you can't +get away just yet, nor see your friends until you are better." + +"It's only a scratch," Polly whimpered. "I can do my work; I got +to." One more feeble effort and she succumbed, with a faint +"Jimminy Crickets!" + +"Uncle Toby told me that you were a very good little girl," +Douglas said, as he drew up a chair and sat down by her side, +confident by the expression on her face that at last he was +master of the situation. "Do you think he would like you to +behave like this?" + +"I sure am on the blink," she sighed, as she settled back wearily +upon the pillow. + +"You'll be all right soon," Douglas answered, cheerily. "Mandy +and I will help the time to go." + +"I recollect now," Polly faltered, without hearing him. "It was +the last hoop. Jim seemed to have a hunch I was goin' to be in +for trouble when I went into the ring. Bingo must a felt it, +too. He kept a-pullin' and a-jerkin' from the start. I got +myself together to make the last jump an'--I can't remember no +more." Her head drooped and her eyes closed. + +"I wouldn't try just now if I were you," Douglas answered +tenderly. + +"It's my WHEEL, ain't it?" Polly questioned, after a pause. + +"Yoah what, chile?" Mandy exclaimed, as she turned from the +table, where she had been rolling up the unused bandages left +from the doctor's call the night before. + +"I say it's my creeper, my paddle," Polly explained, trying to +locate a few of her many pains. "Gee, but that hurts!" She tried +to bend her ankle. "Is it punctured?" + +"Only sprained," Douglas answered, striving to control his +amusement at the expression on Mandy's puzzled face. "Better not +talk any more about it." + +"Ain't anything the matter with my tongue, is there?" she asked, +turning her head to one side and studying him quizzically. + +"I don't think there is," he replied good-naturedly. + +"How did I come to fall in here, anyhow?" she asked, as she +studied the walls of the unfamiliar room. + +"We brought you here." + +"It's a swell place," she conceded grudgingly. + +"We are comfortable," he admitted, as a tell- tale smile again +hovered about his lips. He was thinking of the changes that he +must presently make in Miss Polly's vocabulary. + +"Is this the 'big top?' she asked. + +"The--what?" he stammered. + +"The main tent," she explained. + +"Well, no; not exactly. It's going to be your room now, Miss +Polly." + +"My room! Gee! Think a' that!" she gasped, as the possibility of +her actually having a room all of her own took hold of her mind. +"Much obliged," she said with a nod, feeling that something was +expected of her. She knew no other phrase of gratitude than the +one "Muvver" Jim and Toby had taught her to say to the manager +when she received from him the first stick of red and white +striped candy. + +"You're very welcome," Douglas answered with a ring of genuine +feeling in his voice. + +"Awful quiet, ain't it?" she ventured, after a pause. "Guess +that's what woke me up." + +Douglas laughed good-naturedly at the thought of quiet as a +disturber, and added that he feared it might at first be rather +dull for her, but that Jim and Toby would send her news of the +circus, and that she could write to them as soon as she was +better. + +"I'll have to be a heap better 'an I ever was 'fore I can write +much," Polly drawled, with a whimsical little smile. + +"I will write for you," the pastor volunteered, understanding her +plight. + +"You will?" For the first time he saw a show of real pleasure in +her eyes. + +"Every day," Douglas promised solemnly. + +"And you will show me how?" + +"Indeed I will." + +"How long am I in for?" she asked. + +"The doctor can tell better about that when he comes." + +"The doctor! So--it's as bad as that, eh?" + +"Oh, that need not frighten you," Douglas answered consolingly. + +"I ain't frightened," she bridled quickly; "I ain't never scared +of nothin.' It's only 'cause they need me in the show that I'm +a-kickin'." + +"Oh, they will get along all right," he said reassuringly. + +"Get along?" Polly flashed with sudden resentment. "Get along +WITHOUT MY ACT!" It was apparent from her look of astonishment +that Douglas had completely lost whatever ground he had +heretofore gained in her respect. "Say, have you seen that +show?" She waited for his answer with pity and contempt. + +"No," admitted John, weakly. + +"Well I should say you ain't, or you wouldn't make no crack like +that. I'm the whole thing in that push," she said with an air of +self- complacency; "and with me down and out, that show will be +on the bum for fair." + +"I beg your pardon," was all Douglas could say, confused by the +sudden volley of unfamiliar words. + +"You're kiddin' me," she said, turning her head to one side as +was her wont when assailed by suspicion; "you MUST a seen me +ride?" + +"No, Miss Polly, I have never seen a circus," Douglas told her +half-regretfully, a sense of his deep privation stealing upon +him. + +"What!" cried Polly, incredulously. + +"Lordy no, chile; he ain't nebber seed none ob dem tings," Mandy +interrupted, as she tried to arrange a few short-stemmed posies +in a variegated bouquet. + +"Well, what do you think of that!" Polly gasped. "You're the +first rube I ever saw that hadn't." She was looking at him as +though he were a curiosity. + +"So I'm a rube!" Douglas shook his head with a sad, little smile +and good-naturedly agreed that he had sometimes feared as much. + +"That's what we always calls a guy like you," she explained +ingenuously, and added hopefully: "Well, you MUST a' seen our +parade--all the pikers see that--IT don't cost nothin'." + +"I'm afraid I must also plead guilty to the charge of being a +piker," Douglas admitted half-sheepishly, "for I did see the +parade." + +"Well, I was the one on the white horse right behind the lion +cage," she began excitedly. "You remember?" + +"It's a little confused in my mind--" he caught her look of +amazement, "just AT PRESENT," he stammered, feeling her wrath +again about to descend upon him. + +"Well, I'm the twenty-four sheet stand," she explained. + +"Sheet!" Mandy shrieked from her corner. + +"Yes--the billboards--the pictures," Polly said, growing +impatient at their persistent stupidity. + +"She sure am a funny talkin' thing!" mumbled Mandy to herself, as +she clipped the withered leaves from a plant near the window. + +"You are dead sure they know I ain't comin' on?" Polly asked with +a lingering suspicion in her voice. + +"Dead sure"; and Douglas smiled to himself as he lapsed into her +vernacular. + +There was a moment's pause. Polly realised for the first time +that she must actually readjust herself to a new order of things. +Her eyes again roved about the room. It was a cheerful place in +which to be imprisoned--even Polly could not deny that. The +broad window at the back with its white and pink chintz curtains +on the inside, and its frame of ivy on the outside, spoke of +singing birds and sunshine all day long. Everything from the +white ceiling to the sweet-smelling matting that covered the +floor was spotlessly clean; the cane-bottomed rocker near the +curved window-seat with its pretty pillows told of days when a +convalescent might look in comfort at the garden beneath; the +counterpane, with its old-fashioned rose pattern, the little +white tidies on the back of each chair, and Mandy crooning beside +the window, all helped to make a homelike picture. + +She wondered what Jim and Toby would say if they could see her +now, sitting like a queen in the midst of her soft coverlets, +with no need to raise even a finger to wait upon herself. + +"Ain't it the limit?" she sighed, and with that Jim and Toby +seemed to drift farther away. She began to see their life apart +from hers. She could picture Jim with his head in his hands. +She could hear his sharp orders to the men. He was always short +with the others when anything went wrong with her. + +"I'll bet 'Muvver Jim's' in the dumps," she murmured, as a cloud +stole across the flower-like face; then the tired muscles +relaxed, and she ceased to rebel. + +"Muvver Jim"? Douglas repeated, feeling that he must recall her +to a knowledge of his presence. + +"That's what I calls him," Polly explained, "but the fellows +calls him 'Big Jim.' You might not think Jim could be a good +mother just to look at him, but he is; only, sometimes, you can't +tell him things you could a real mother," she added, half sadly. + +"And your real mother went away when you were very young?" + +"No, she didn't go AWAY----" + +"No?" There was a puzzled note in the pastor's voice. + +"She went out," Polly corrected. + +"Out!" he echoed blankly. + +"Yes--finished-- Lights out." + +"Oh, an accident." Douglas understood at last. + +"I don't like to talk about it." Polly raised herself on her +elbow and looked at him solemnly, as though about to impart a bit +of forbidden family history. It was this look in the round eyes +that had made Jim so often declare that the kid knew everything. + +"Why mother'd a been ashamed if she'd a knowed how she wound up. +She was the best rider of her time, everybody says so, but she +cashed in by fallin' off a skate what didn't have no more ginger +'an a kitten. If you can beat that?" She gazed at him with her +lips pressed tightly together, evidently expecting some startling +expression of wonder. + +"And your father?" Douglas asked rather lamely, being at a loss +for any adequate comment upon a tragedy which the child before +him was too desolate even to understand. + +"Oh, DAD'S finish was all right. He got his'n in a lion's cage +where he worked. There was nothing slow about his end." She +looked up for his approval. + +"For de Lord's sake!" Mandy groaned as the wonder of the child's +conversation grew upon her. + +"And now I'm down and out," Polly concluded with a sigh. + +"But THIS is nothing serious," said the pastor, trying to cheer +her. + +"It's serious ENOUGH, with a whole show a'- dependin' on you. +Maybe you don't know how it feels to have to knock off work." + +"Oh, yes, I do," Douglas answered quickly. "I was ill a while +ago myself. I had to be in bed day after day, thinking of dozens +of things that I ought to be doing." + +"Was you ever floored?" Polly asked with a touch of unbelief as +she studied the fine, healthy physique at the side of her bed. + +" 'Deed he was, chile," Mandy cried, feeling that her opportunity +had now arrived; "an' I had the wors' time a-keepin' him in bed. +He act jes' like you did." + +"Did he?" Polly was delighted to find that the pastor had +"nothin' on her," as she would have put it. + +"You ought to have heard him," continued Mandy, made eloquent by +Polly's show of interest. " 'What will dose poor folks do?' he +kept a-sayin'. 'yes' yo' lie where yo' is,' I tole him. 'Dem +poor folks will be better off dan dey would be a-comin' to yoah +funeral.' " + +"Poor folks?" Polly questioned. "Do you give money to folks?" We +are always itchin' to get it AWAY from 'em." + +Before Douglas could think of words with which to defend his +disapproved methods, Mandy had continued eagerly: + +"An' den on Sunday, when he can't go to church and preach--" She +got no further. A sharp exclamation brought both Mandy and +Douglas to attention. + +"Preach!" Polly almost shouted. She looked at him with genuine +alarm this time. + +"That will do, Mandy," Douglas commanded, feeling an unwelcome +drama gathering about his head. + +"Great Barnum and Bailey!" Polly exclaimed, looking at him as +though he were the very last thing in the world she had ever +expected to see. "Are you a skypilot?" + +"That's what he am, chile." Mandy slipped the words in slyly, +for she knew that they were against the pastor's wishes, but she +was unable to restrain her mischievous impulse to sow the seeds +of curiosity that would soon bear fruit in the inquisitive mind +of the little invalid. + +"Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?" She +continued to study the uncomfortable man at her side. "I never +thought I'd be a-talkin'to one of you guys. What's your name?" + +"Douglas." He spoke shortly. + +"Ain't you got no handle to it?" + +"If you mean my Christian name, it's John." + +"Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't +look like I s'posed they did." + +"Why not?" + +"I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're +a'most as good lookin' as our strong man." + +"I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried +parson," Mandy chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's +discomfort. + +"Looks don't play a very important part in my work," Douglas +answered curtly. Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly +anxious to get to a less personal topic. + +"Well, they count for a whole lot with us." She nodded her head +decidedly. "How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?" + +"About a year," Douglas answered, with something of a sigh. + +"A year!" she gasped. "In a burg like this? You must have an +awful lot of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long." +She was wise in the ways of professional success. + +"Not many, I'm afraid." He wondered, for the first time, if this +might be the reason for his rather indifferent success. + +"Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?" + +"A rep?" he repeated in surprise. + +"Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em. Uncle +Toby's got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference +in the big towns where you have a run." + +"Oh, I understand," Douglas answered in a tone of relief. "Well, +I try to say something new each Sunday." + +"What kind of spiels do you give 'em?" she inquired with growing +interest. + +"I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves +and to forget their week-day troubles." He had never had +occasion to define his efforts so minutely. + +"Well, that's jes' the same as us," Polly told him with an air of +condescension; "only circuses draws more people 'an churches." + +"YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment," +Douglas answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were +many tricks in the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. +And, after all, what was his preaching but an effort at +entertainment? If he failed to hold his congregation by what he +was saying, his listeners grew drowsy, and his sermon fell short +of its desired effect. It was true that his position and hers +had points of similarity. She was apparently successful; as for +himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very hard and +that sometimes a tired mother or a sad- faced child looked up at +him with a smile that made the service seem worth while. + +Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart +was quick to find consolation for him. + +"You ain't got all the worst of it," she said. "If we tried to +play a dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You +certainly must give 'em a great show," she added, surveying him +with growing interest. + +"It doesn't make much difference about the show--" Douglas began, +but he was quickly interrupted. + +"That's right, it's jes' the same with a circus. One year ye +give 'em the rottenest kind of a thing, and they eat it up; the +next year you hand 'em a knock-out, and it's a frost. Is that +the way it is with a church show?" + +"Much the same," Douglas admitted half- amusedly, +half-regretfully. "Very often when I work the hardest, I seem to +do the least good." + +"I guess our troubles is pretty much alike.' Polly nodded with a +motherly air of condescension. "Only there ain't so much danger +in your act." + +"I'm not so sure about that," he laughed. + +"Well, you take my tip," she leaned forward as though about to +impart a very valuable bit of information. "Don't you never go +in for ridin'. There ain't no act on earth so hard as a ridin' +act. The rest of the bunch has got it easy alongside of us. +Take the fellows on the trapeze. They always get their tackle up +in jes' the same place. Take the balancin' acts; there ain't no +difference in their layouts. Take any of 'em as depends on +regular props; and they ain't got much chance a-goin' wrong. But +say, when yer have ter do a ridin' act, there ain't never no two +times alike. If your horse is feelin' good, the ground is +stumbly; if the ground ain't on the blink the horse is wobbly. +Ther's always somethin' wrong somewheres, and yer ain't never +knowin' how it's goin' ter end-- especially when you got to do a +careful act like mine. There's a girl, Eloise, in our bunch, +what does a SHOWY act on a horse what Barker calls Barbarian. +She goes on in my place sometimes-- and say, them rubes applauds +her as much as me, an' her stunts is baby tricks alongside o' +mine. It's enough to make you sick o' art." She shook her head +dolefully, then sat up with renewed interest. + +"You see, mine is careful balancin' an' all that, an' you got ter +know your horse an' your ground for that. Now you get wise ter +what I'm a-tellin' yer, and don't you NEVER go into ANYTHIN' what +depends on ANYTHIN' else." + +"Thank you, Polly, I won't." Douglas somehow felt that he was +very much indebted to her. + +"I seen a church show once," Polly said suddenly. + +"You did?" Douglas asked, with new interest. + +"Yes," she answered, closing her lips and venturing no further +comment. + +"Did you like it?" he questioned, after a pause. + +"Couldn't make nothin' out of it--I don't care much for readin'." + +"Oh, it isn't ALL reading," he corrected. + +"Well, the guy I saw read all of his'n. He got the whole thing +right out of a book." + +"Oh, that was only his text," laughed Douglas. "Text?" + +"Yes. And later he tried to interpret to his congrega----" + +"Easy! Easy!" she interrupted; "come again with that, will you?" + +"He told them the meaning of what he read." "Well, I don't know +what he told 'em, but it didn't mean anythin' to me. But maybe +your show is better'n his was," she added, trying to pacify him. + +Douglas was undecided whether to feel amused or grateful for +Polly's ever-increasing sympathy. Before he could trust his +twitching lips to answer, she had put another question to him. + +"Are you goin' to do a stunt while I am here?" + +"I preach every Sunday, if that's what you mean; I preach this +morning." + +"Is this Sunday?" she asked, sitting up with renewed energy and +looking about the room as though everything had changed colour. + +"Yes." + +"And YOU GOT A MATINEE?" she exclaimed, incredulously. + +"We have services," he corrected, gently. + +"WE rest up on SUNDAYS," she said in a tone of deep +commiseration. + +"Oh, I see," he answered, feeling it no time to enter upon +another discussion as to the comparative advantages of their two +professions. + +"What are you goin' ter spiel about to-day?" + +"About Ruth and Naomi." + +"Ruth and who?" + +"Naomi," he repeated. + +"Naomi," she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she +listened to the soft cadences of the word. "I never heard that +name afore. It 'ud look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't +it?" + +"It's a Bible name, honey," Mandy said, eager to get into the +conversation. "Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it." + +"I LIKE to look at PICTURES," Polly answered tentatively. Mandy +crossed the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel +engravings. + +"We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt. Some of +the folks is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't." + +She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend, +but just then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large, +old-fashioned Bible, and Douglas helped to place the ponderous +book before the invalid. + +"See, honey, dar dey is," the old woman said, pointing to the +picture of Ruth and Naomi. + +"Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?" Polly gasped, and her eyes +shone with wonder. "Which one 's Ruth?" + +"Dis one," said Mandy, pointing with her thumb. + +"Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does +it say about 'em?" + +"You can read it for yourself," Douglas answered gently. There +was something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little +mind. + +"Well, I ain't much on readin'--OUT LOUD," she faltered, growing +suddenly conscious of her deficiencies. "Read it for me, will +you?" + +"Certainly," and he drew his chair nearer to the bed. One strong +hand supported the other half of the Bible, and his head was very +near to hers as his deep, full voice pronounced the solemn words +in which Ruth pleaded so many years before. + +" 'Entreat me not to leave thee,' " he read, " 'or to return from +following after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where +thou lodgest I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and +thy God my God.' " + +He stopped to ponder over the poetry of the lines. + +"Kind o' pretty, ain't it?" Polly said softly. She felt awkward +and constrained and a little overawed. + +"There are far more beautiful things than that," Douglas assured +her enthusiastically, as the echo of many such rang in his ears. + +"There are?" And her eyes opened wide with wonder. + +"Yes, indeed," he replied, pitying more and more the starvation +of mind and longing to bring to it floods of light and +enrichment. + +"I guess I'd LIKE to hear YOU spiel," and she fell to studying +him solemnly. + +"You would?" he asked eagerly. + +"Is there any more to that story?" she asked, ignoring his +question. + +"Yes, indeed." + +"Would you read me a little more?" She was very humble now. + +"Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the +Lord do so to me and more also, if ought but death part me and +thee.' " + +Their eyes met. There was a long pause. Suddenly the sharp, +sweet notes of the church bell brought John Douglas to his feet +with a start of surprise. + +"Have you got to go?" Polly asked regretfully. + +"Yes, I must; but I'll read the rest from the church. Open the +window, Mandy!" And he passed out of the door and quickly down +the stairs. + + + +Chapter VI + +WHEN John Douglas's uncle offered to educate his nephew for the +ministry, the boy was less enthusiastic than his mother. He did +not remonstrate, however, for it had been the custom of +generations for at least one son of each Douglas family to preach +the gospel of Calvinism, and his father's career as an architect +and landscape gardener had not left him much capital. + +Douglas, senior, had been recognised as an artist by the few who +understood his talents, but there is small demand for the builder +of picturesque houses in the little business towns of the Middle +West, and at last he passed away, leaving his son only the burden +of his financial failure and an ardent desire to succeed at the +profession in which his father had fared so badly. The hopeless, +defeated look on the departed man's face had always haunted the +boy, who was artist enough to feel his father's genius +intuitively, and human enough to resent the injustice of his +fate. + +Douglas's mother had suffered so much because of the impractical +efforts of her husband, that she discouraged the early tendencies +of the son toward drawing and mathematics and tried to direct his +thoughts toward creeds and Bible history. When he went away for +his collegiate course, she was less in touch with him; and he was +able to steal time from his athletics to devote to his art. He +spent his vacations in a neighbouring city before a drawing board +in the office of a distinguished architect, his father's friend. + +Douglas was not a brilliant divinity student, and he was relieved +when at last he received his degree in theology and found himself +appointed to a small church in the Middle West. + +His step was very bright the morning he first went up the path +that led to his new home. His artistic sense was charmed by the +picturesque approach to the church and parsonage. The view +toward the tree-encircled spire was unobstructed, for the church +had been built on the outskirts of the town to allow for a growth +that had not materialised. He threw up his head and gazed at the +blue hills, with their background of soft, slow-moving clouds. +The smell of the fresh earth, the bursting of the buds, the +forming of new life, set him thrilling with a joy that was very +near to pain. + +He stopped half way up the path and considered the advantages of +a new front to the narrow- eaved cottage, and when his foot +touched the first step of the vine-covered porch, he was far more +concerned about a new portico than with any thought of his first +sermon. + +His speculations were abruptly cut short by Mandy, who bustled +out of the door with a wide smile of welcome on her black face, +and an unmistakable ambition to take him immediately under her +motherly wing. She was much concerned because the church people +had not met the new pastor at the station and brought him to the +house. Upon learning that Douglas had purposely avoided their +escort, preferring to come to his new home the first time alone, +she made up her mind that she was going to like him. + +Mandy had long been a fixture in the parsonage. She and her +worse half, Hasty Jones, had come to know and discuss the +weaknesses of the many clergymen who had come and gone, the +deacons, and the congregation, both individually and +collectively. She confided to Hasty, that she "didn't blame de +new parson fer not wantin' to mix up wid dat ar crowd." + +In the study that night, when she and Hasty helped Douglas to +unpack his many boxes of books, they were as eager as children +about the drawings and pictures which he showed them. His mind +had gone beyond the parsonage front now, and he described to them +the advantage of adding an extra ten feet to the church spire. + +Mandy felt herself almost an artist when she and Hasty bade the +pastor good night, for she was still quivering from the contagion +of Douglas's enthusiasm. Here, at last, was a master who could +do something besides find fault with her. + +"I jest wan' to be on de groun' de firs' time dat Mars Douglas +and dat ere Deacon Strong clinches," she said to Hasty as they +locked the doors and turned out the hall light. "Did yuh done +see his jaw?" she whispered. "He look laughin' enough NOW, but +jes' yuh wait till he done set dat'ere jaw a his'n and afar ain't +nobody what's goin' ter unsot it." + +"Maybe dar ain't goin' ter be no clinchin'," said Hasty, hoping +for Mandy's assurance to the contrary. + +"What?" shrieked Mandy. "Wid dat 'ere sneakin' Widow Willoughby +already a-tellin' de deacons how to start de new parson a-goin' +proper?" + +"Now, why you's always a-pickin' onto dat 'ere widow?" asked +Hasty, already enjoying the explosion which he knew his defence +of the widow was sure to excite. + +"I don' like no woman what's allus braggin' 'bout her clean +floors," answered Mandy, shortly. She turned out the last light, +and tiptoed upstairs, trying not to disturb the pastor. + +John Douglas was busy already with pencil and paper, making notes +of the plans for the church and parsonage, which he would perfect +later on. Alas, for Douglas's day dreams! It was not many weeks +before he understood with a heavy heart that the deacons were far +too dull and uninspired to share his faith in beauty as an aid to +man's spiritual uplift. + +"We think we've done pretty well by this church," said Deacon +Strong, who was the business head, the political boss, and the +moral mentor of the small town's affairs. "Just you worry along +with the preachin', young man, and we'll attend to the buyin' and +buildin' operations." + +Douglas's mind was too active to content itself wholly with the +writing of sermons and the routine of formal, pastoral calls. He +was a keen humanitarian, so little by little, he came to be +interested in the heart stories and disappointments of many of +the village unfortunates, some of whom were outside his +congregation. The mentally sick, the despondent, who needed +words of hope and courage more than dry talks on theology, found +in him an ever ready friend and adviser, and these came to love +and depend on him. But he was never popular with the creed- +bound element of the church. + +Mandy had her wish about being on the spot the first time that +the parson's jaw squared itself at Deacon Strong. The deacon had +called at the parsonage to demand that Douglas put a stop to the +boys playing baseball in the adjoining lot on Sunday. Douglas +had been unable to see the deacon's point of view. He declared +that baseball was a healthy and harmless form of exercise, that +the air was meant to be breathed, and that the boys who enjoyed +the game on Sunday were principally those who were kept indoors +by work on other days. The close of the interview was +unsatisfactory both to Douglas and the deacon. + +"Dey kinder made me cold an' prickly all up an' down de back," +Mandy said later, when she described their talk to Hasty. "Dat +'ere deacon don' know nuffin' 'bout gittin' 'roun' de parson." +She tossed her head with a feeling of superiority. She knew the +way. Make him forget himself with a laugh. Excite his sympathy +with some village underdog. + + + +Chapter VII + +MANDY had secretly enjoyed the commotion caused by the little +circus-rider being left in the parsonage, at first, because of +her inborn love of mischief, and later, because Polly had become +second in her heart only to the pastor. She went about her work, +crooning softly during the days of Polly's convalescence. The +deep, steady voice of the pastor reading aloud in the pretty +window overhead was company. She would often climb the stairs to +tell them some bit of village gossip, and leave them laughing at +a quaint comment about some inquisitive sister of the church, who +had happened to incur her displeasure. + +As spring came on, Douglas carried Polly down to the sun-lit +garden beneath the window; and Mandy fluttered about arranging +the cushions with motherly solicitude. + +More days slipped by, and Polly began to creep through the +little, soft-leaved trees at the back of the church, and to look +for the deep, blue, sweet-scented violets. When she was able, +Douglas took her with him to visit some of the outlying houses of +the poor. Her woman's instinct was quick to perceive many small +needs in their lives that he had overlooked, and to suggest +simple, inexpensive joys that made them her devoted friends. + +Their evenings were divided between making plans for these +unfortunates and reading aloud from the Bible or other books. + +When Polly gained courage, Douglas sometimes persuaded her to +read to him--and the little corrections that he made at these +times soon became noticeable in her manner of speech. She was so +eager, so starved for knowledge, that she drank it as fast as he +could give it. It was during their talks about grammar that +Mandy generally fell asleep in her rocker, her unfinished sewing +still in her lap. + +When a letter came from Jim and Toby, it was always shared +equally by Mandy and Hasty, Polly and the pastor. But at last a +letter came from Jim only, and Douglas, who was asked to read it, +faltered and stopped after the first few words. + +"It's no use my tryin' to keep it from you any longer, Poll," the +letter began, "we ain't got Toby with us no more. He didn't have +no accident, it wasn't that. He just seemed kinder sick and +ailin' like, ever since the night we had to leave you behind. I +used to get him warm drinks and things, and try to pull 'im +through, but he was always a-chillin' and a-achin'. If it wasn't +one thing the matter, it was another. I done all I knowed you'd +a-wanted me to, an' the rest of the folks was mighty white to +him, too. I guess they kinder felt how lonesome he was. He +couldn't get no more laughs in the show, so Barker had to put on +another man with him. That kinder hurt him too--I s'pose--an' +showed him the way that things was a-goin'. It was just after +that, he wrote the parson a-tellin' him to never let you come +back. He seemed to a' got an idee in his head that you was +happier where you was. He wouldn't let me tell ye 'bout his +feelin' so rocky, 'cause he thought it might mebbe make you come +back. 'She's diff'runt from us,' he was allus a-sayin'. 'I +never 'spected to keep 'er.' " + +Douglas stopped. Polly was waiting, her face white and drawn. +He had not told her of Toby's letter, because with it had come a +request to "say nothin' to the kid." + +He felt that Polly was controlling herself with an effort until +he should reach the end of Jim's letter, so he hurried on. + +"The parson's promise didn't get to him none too quick," he read. +"That seemed to be what he was waitin' for. He give up the night +it come, and I got him a little room in a hotel after the show, +and let one of the other fellers get the stuff out o' town, so's +I could stay with him up to the finish. It come 'round mornin'. +There wasn't much to it--he just seemed tired and peaceful like. +'I'm glad he wrote what he did,' he said, meanin' the parson. +'She knows, she allus knows,' he whispered, meanin' you, Poll, +and then he was on his way. He'd already give me what was saved +up for you, and I'm sendin' it along with this--" A blue money +order for two hundred and fifty dollars had fluttered from the +envelope when Douglas opened it. + +"I got everythin' ready afore I went on the next day, an' I went +up and saw the little spot on the hill where they was goin' to +stow him. It looked kinder nice and the digger's wife said she'd +put some flowers on to it now and then. It was YOU what made me +think o' that, Poll, 'cause it seemed to me what you would a' +done; you was always so daffy about flowers, you and him. + +"I guess this letter's too long for me to be a-sayin' much about +the show, but the 'Leap- a-Death' girl got hern last week. She +wasn't strong enough for the job, nohow. I done what I could for +her outside the show, 'cause I knowed how you was always +a-feelin' 'bout her. I guess the 'Leap-a-Death's' husband is +goin' to jump his job soon, if he gets enough saved up, 'cause +him and Barker can't hit it off no more. We got a good deal o' +trouble among the animals, too. None o' the snakes is sheddin' +like they ought to, and Jumbo's a-carryin' a sixteen foot bandage +around that trunk a' hisn, 'cause he got too fresh with Trixy's +grub the other night, and the new giraffe's got the croup in that +seven-foot neck o' his'n. I guess you'll think I got the pip for +fair this time, so I'll just get onto myself now and cut this +short. I'll be writin' you agin when we hit Morgantown. + "Your old Muvver Jim." + + +Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still +resting upon it. He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken +figure in the opposite chair. Polly had made no sound, but her +head had slipped lower and lower and she now sat very quietly +with her face in her hands. She had been taught by Toby and Jim +never to whimper. + +"What a plucky lot they are," thought Douglas, as he considered +these three lonely souls, each accepting whatever fate brought +with no rebellion or even surprise. It was a strange world of +stoics in which these children of the amusement arena fought and +lost. They came and went like phantoms, with as little +consciousness of their own best interests as of the great, moving +powers of the world about them. They felt no throes of envy, no +bitterness. They loved and worked and "went their way." + +For once the pastor was powerless in the presence of grief. Both +he and Mandy left the room quietly, feeling that Polly wished to +be spared the outburst of tears that a sympathetic word might +bring upon her. They allowed her to remain alone for a time, +then Mandy entered softly with a tender good night and Douglas +followed her cheerily as though nothing at all had happened. + +It was many weeks before Polly again became a companion to +Douglas and Mandy, but they did not intrude upon her grief. They +waited patiently for the time when youth should again assert +itself, and bring back their laughing mate to them. + + + +Chapter VIII + +When Polly understood that Toby was ACTUALLY GONE, it seemed to +her that she could never laugh again. She had been too young to +realise the inevitableness of death when it came to her mother, +and now she could scarcely believe that Toby would never, never +come back to her. She felt that she must be able to DRAG him +back, that she could not go on without him. She wanted to tell +him how grateful she was for all his care of her. She thought of +the thousand little things that she might have done for him. She +longed to recall every impatient word to him. His gentle +reproachful eyes were always haunting her. "You must come back, +Toby!" she cried. "You must!" + +It was only when body and mind had worn themselves out with +yearning, that a numbness at last crept over her, and out of this +grew a gradual consciousness of things about her and a returning +sense of her obligation to others. She tried to answer in her +old, smiling way and to keep her mind upon what they were saying, +instead of letting it wander away to the past. + +Douglas and Mandy were overjoyed to see the colour creeping back +to her cheeks. + +She joined the pastor again in his visits to the poor. The women +of the town would often see them passing and would either whisper +to each other, shrug their shoulders, or lift their eyebrows with +smiling insinuations; but Polly and the pastor were too much +absorbed in each other to take much notice of what was going on +about them. + +They had not gone for their walk to-day, because Mandy had needed +Polly to help make ready for the social to be held in the Sunday- +school-room to-night. + +Early in the afternoon, Polly had seen Douglas shut himself up in +the study, and she was sure that he was writing; so when the +village children stopped in on the way from school for Mandy's +new-made cookies, she used her customary trick to get them away. +"Tag--you're it!" she cried, and then dashed out the back door, +pursued by the laughing, screaming youngsters. Mandy followed +the children to the porch and stood looking after them, as the +mad, little band scurried about the back yard, darted in and out +amongst the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just +beyond the church. + +The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day +the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer +dresses. Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by +comparison with the children about her. She wore a plain, simple +gown of white, which Mandy had helped her to make. It had been +cut ankle- length, for Polly was now seventeen. Her quaint, +old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her trick of knotting +her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem older. + +Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill, +then began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty +had left under the vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at +the parsonage. A social always meant perturbation for Mandy. +She called sharply to Hasty, as he came down the path which made +a short cut to the village: + +"So's you'se back, is you?" she asked, sarcastically. + +"Sure, I'se back," answered Hasty, good- naturedly, as he sank +upon an empty box that had held some things for the social, and +pretended to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. + +"Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago," said +Mandy, as she took the letters and papers from his hand. "Five +minutes is plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job." + +"I done been detained," Hasty drawled. + +"You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on," Mandy +snapped at him. + +"Whar's Miss Polly?" Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to +work. + +"Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you +done fetch that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room." + +"But I wants her," Hasty insisted. "I'se been on very 'ticular +business what she ought to know 'bout." + +"Business?" she repeated. "What kind ob business?" + +"I got to fix de Sunday-school-room," said Hasty, as he perceived +her growing curiosity. + +"You come heah, nigger!" Mandy called, determined that none of +the village doings should escape her. "Out wid it!" + +"Well, it's 'bout de circus," Hasty answered? seating himself +again on the box. "Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next +month dey's comin' here." + +"Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?" Mandy's eyes +grew large with curiosity. + +"De very same," and Hasty nodded mysteriously. + +"How you know dat?" Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him. + +" 'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show +painted on it. It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all +de pictures what dey pastes up." + +"And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?" + +"I done thought Miss Polly might want to know." + +"See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions +into Miss Polly's head. She don' care no more 'bout dem things +since her Uncle Toby done die. She done been satisfied right +whar she am. Jes' you let her be." + +"I ain't done nothin'," Hasty protested. + +"Nebber do do nothin'," growled Mandy. "Go long now, and get +a-work. Mos' four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready +yet." + +Hasty picked up the empty box and the step- ladder and went out +through the gate. He had barely disappeared when a peal of +laughter was heard from the hillside, and before Mandy could get +out of the way, the youngsters came tumbling down the path again. + +"Lawsy, lawsy," she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging +the children. "You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey." + +"Tag! you're it!" Polly cried, as she touched the widow's +auburn-haired offspring on the sleeve. There was much wailing +when Willie passed the tag to little Jennie, the smallest girl in +the crowd. + +"I won't play no more," she sobbed; " 'cause I's always it." + +To comfort her, Polly began to sing an old circus song that the +children had learned to love; and the little ones huddled about +her in a circle to hear of the wonderful "Van Amberg" who used to +"walk right into the lion's cage and put his head in the lion's +mouth." The children were in a state of nerves that did credit +to Polly as an entertainer, when Hasty broke in upon the song. + +"When you get a minute I want ter tell yer somethin'." + +"I have one right now." And turning to the eager mites at her +side, Polly told them to run along into the grove, and that she'd +come pretty soon to teach them a new game. + +The youngsters went screaming and laughing on their way, and she +breathed a sigh of relief as she threw herself down on the rustic +seat that encircled the elm tree. + +"What is it, Hasty?" she asked, suspecting that he was in trouble +with Mandy. + +"It's 'bout de circus," Hasty informed her bluntly. + +"The circus?" She rose and crossed to him quickly. + +"It's in Wakefield--en' nex' month it's a-comin' here." + +"Here?" Polly gasped. + +"I thought you'd want ter know," said Hasty, little surprised at +her lack of enthusiasm. + +"Yes, of course." She turned away and pretended to look at the +flowers. + +"Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus," said +Hasty, uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a +mistake; but before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the +house, carrying baskets and food, which Hasty was to take to the +Sunday-school-room. She looked at the girl's troubled face and +drooping shoulders in surprise. + +"What make you look so serious, Honey?" + +"Just thinking," said Polly absently. + +"My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!" She was anxious to +draw the girl out of her reverie. + +"Do you like it?" Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression +of a moment before. "Do you think Mr. John will like it?" + +"Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. +I done got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you +think HE ebber seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' +roun' like Mudder Eve for all dat man know." Polly looked +disappointed. "But udder folks sees," Mandy continued, +comfortingly, "an' you certainly look mighty fine. Why, you's +just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!" + +"Yes, I'm well now and able to work again." There was no +enthusiasm in her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how +unwelcome the old life would be to her. + +"Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to +Massa John." + +"Do you think so? Do I help him?-- Do I?" + +"Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school +what the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy +himself, an' a lot of things what nobody else could a-learned +'im." + +"You mustn't say 'learned him,' " Polly corrected; "you must say +'taught him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only +'teach' them." + +"Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat." She rolled her large eyes at +her young instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. +"She's gwine ter have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells" thought +Mandy, and she made ready to protest. + +"See here, ain't you nebber----" + +She was interrupted by a quick "Have you never" from Polly. + +"It dun make no difference what you say," Mandy snapped, "so long +as folks understands you." She always grew restive under these +ordeals; but Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered. + +"Oh, yes, it does," answered Polly. "I used to think it didn't; +but it does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks +look down on you." + +"I's satisfied de way I be," declared Mandy, as she plumped +herself down on the garden bench and began to fidget with +resentment. + +"The way I am," Polly persisted, sweetly. + +"See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' +keepin de light burnin'?" + +"You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens +set----" + +"So do I," interrupted Mandy; "I's doin' it NOW." For a time she +preserved an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. +"If I had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open +my mouth, I'd done been tongue-tied afore I was born." + +"I could teach you in no time," volunteered Polly, eagerly. + +"I don't want to be teached," protested Mandy, doggedly. "Hast +Jones says I's too smart anyhow. Men don't like women knowin' +too much-- it skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, and I +ain't a-tryin' to get nobody else's," Mandy wound up flatly. + +"But he'd like you all the better," persisted Polly, laughing. + +"I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO nigger," snapped Mandy. +"I's a busy woman, I is." She made for the house, then curiosity +conquered her and she came back to Polly's side. "See here, +honey, whose been l'arnin' you all dem nonsense?" + +"I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all the things he tells +me, and at night I write them down and say them over. Do you see +this, Mandy?" She took a small red book from her belt and put it +into Mandy's black chubby fists. + +"I see some writin', if dat's what you mean," Mandy answered, +helplessly. + +"These are my don'ts," Polly confided, as she pointed +enthusiastically to worn pages of finely written notes. + +"You'se WHAT, chile?" + +"The things I mustn't do or say." + +"An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?" Mandy +looked incredulous. + +"I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me," she said with +growing pride. + +"Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for----" + +"Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?" Polly pointed reproachfully +to the reminder in the little red book. It was a fortunate thing +that Willie interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's +temper was becoming very uncertain. The children had grown weary +waiting for Polly, and Willie had been sent to fetch her. Polly +offered to help Mandy with the decorations, but Willie won the +day, and she was running away hand in hand with him when Douglas +came out of the house. + +"Wait a minute!" he called. "My, how fine you look!" He turned +Polly about and surveyed the new gown admiringly. + +"He did see it! He did see it!" cried Polly, gleefully. + +"Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?" + +"You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come," Mandy grunted. + +"Come, Willie!" called the girl, and ran out laughing through the +trees. + +"What's this?" Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward +fingers, and began to read: 'Hens set--' " He frowned. + +"Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,' " interrupted Mandy, +disgustedly. + +"Her 'don'ts'?" + +"She done been set--sit--settin' up nights tryin' to learn what +you done tole her," stuttered Mandy. + +"Dear little Polly," he murmured, then closed the book and put it +into his pocket. + + + +Chapter IX + +DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby +came through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage, +carrying bunting for the social. She was followed by Miss +Perkins with a bucket of pickles, which Mandy promptly placed on +top of Mrs. Elverson's ice cream. The women explained that they +had come to put the finishing touches to the decorations. If +anything was needed to increase Mandy's dislike of the widow, it +was this announcement. + +Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not +been home since the afternoon school session. Upon learning that +they were with Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and +Douglas dispatched Mandy for them. She saw that her implied +distrust of Polly had annoyed him, and she was about to +apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on the scene, also +carrying baskets and parcels for the social. + +Strong led the way. He always led the way and always told +Elverson what to think. They had been talking excitedly as they +neared the parsonage, for Strong disapproved of the recent +changes which the pastor had made in the church service. He and +Douglas had clashed more than once since the baseball argument, +and the deacon had realised more and more that he had met a will +quite as strong as his own. His failure to bend the parson to +his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his mind +from his business. + +"Can you beat that!" he would exclaim as he turned away from some +disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day. + +Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in +her direction as she came running into the garden, leading the +widow's two children. + +She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the +gate, then hurried to Mrs. Willoughby, begging that the children +be allowed to remain a little longer. She was making up a new +game, she said, and needed Willie and Jennie for the set. + +"My children do not play in promiscuous games," said the widow, +icily. + +"Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro"--Polly stammered. "It's a new +game. You put two here, and two here, and----" + +"I don't care to know." The widow turned away, and pretended to +talk to Julia. + +"Oh!" gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff. + +She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle. The blood +flew from her cheeks, then she turned to go. + +Douglas stepped quickly to her side. "Wait a minute," he said. +She paused, all eyes were turned upon them. "Is this a game that +grown- ups can play?" + +"Why, yes, of course." + +"Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need a little amusement +just now. Excuse me," he added, turning to the deacons. Then he +ran with her out through the trees. + +The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast. + +"Well, what do you think of that?" said Mrs. Willoughby, as the +flying skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man +disappeared up the path. + +"I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me," said Miss +Perkins. "The idea of a full- grown parson a-runnin' off to play +children's games with a circus ridin' girl!" + +"She isn't such a child," sneered Julia. + +"It's ENOUGH to make folks talk," put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a +sly look at the deacons. + +"And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service," bellowed +Strong. + +"And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message," piped +Elverson. + +"The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was +sick," snapped Miss Perkins. "But now she's perfectly well, and +still a-hanging on. No wonder folks are talking." + +"Who's talking?" thundered Strong. + +"Didn't you know?" simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself +nor caring, so long as the suspicion grew. + +"Know what?" yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby +floundered. Miss Perkins rushed into the breach. + +"Well, if _I_ was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know +something about what's going on in it." + +"What IS goin' on?" shrieked the now desperate deacon. + +The women looked at him pityingly, exchanged knowing glances, +then shook their heads at his hopeless stupidity. + +Strong was not accustomed to criticism. He prided himself upon +his acuteness, and was, above all, vain about his connection with +the church. He looked from one woman to the other. He was +seething with helpless rage. The little deacon at his side +coughed nervously. Strong's pent up wrath exploded. "Why didn't +YOU tell me, Elverson, that people was a-talkin'," he roared in +the frightened man's ear. + +Elverson sputtered and stammered, but nothing definite came of +the sounds; so Strong again turned to Miss Perkins: + +"What is going on?" he demanded. + +The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes +heavenward, knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as +this mysterious inference of things too terrible to mention. She +was right. Strong uttered a desperate "Bah!" and began pacing up +and down the garden with reckless strides. + +Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he +came to a halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering +sweetness. + +"What COULD folks say?" she asked. "A minister and a young +circus riding girl living here like this with no one to--" She +found no words at this point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, +declared that the congregation should have no further cause for +gossip, and went out quickly in search of Douglas. + +When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the +women, and attempted a weak apology for the pastor. "I dare say +the young man was very lonely--very--before she came." + +"Lonely?" snapped Miss Perkins. "Well, if HE was LONELY, _I_ +didn't know it." + +The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong. + +The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland +smiles to the Sunday-school- room, feeling that they had +accomplished enough for the time being. + +Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the +pastor. They turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld +Douglas, hatless, tearing down the path. Strong called to him, +but Douglas darted quickly behind the hedge. The deacons looked +at one another in speechless astonishment. Presently the silence +was broken by the distant voice of Polly counting from one to one +hundred. The secret was out! The pastor, a leader of the church, +was playing hide-and-seek. + +"Mr. Douglas!" shouted Strong, when his breath had returned. + +"Hush, hush!" whispered Douglas, looking over the hedge. He +peeped cautiously about him, then came toward the men with a sigh +of relief. "It's all right. She has gone the other way." + +"It'll be a good thing for you if she never comes back," said +Strong, and Douglas's quick ear caught an unpleasant meaning in +his tone. + +"What's that?" the pastor asked, in a low, steady voice. + +"We don't like some of the things that are going on here, and I +want to talk to you about 'em." + +"Very well, but see if you can't talk in a lower key." + +"Never mind about the key," shouted Strong, angrily. + +"But I DO mind." Something in his eyes made the deacon lower his +voice. + +"We want to know how much longer that girl is goin' to stay +here?" + +"Indeed! And why?" The colour was leaving Douglas's face, and his +jaw was becoming very square. + +"Because she's been here long enough." + +"I don't agree with you there." + +"Well, it don't make no difference whether you do or not. She's +got to go." + +"Go?" echoed Douglas. + +"Yes, sir-e-bob. We've made up our minds to that." + +"And who do you mean by 'we'?" + +"The members of this congregation," replied Strong, impatiently. + +"Am I to understand that YOU are speaking for THEM?" There was a +deep frown between the young pastor's eyes. He was beginning to +be perplexed. + +"Yes, and as deacon of this church." + +"Then, as deacon of this church, you tell the congregation for me +that that is MY affair." + +"Your affair!" shouted Strong. "When that girl is living under +the church's roof, eating the church's bread!" + +"Just one moment! You don't quite understand. I am minister of +this church, and for that position I receive, or am supposed to +receive, a salary to live on, and this parsonage, rent free, to +live in. Any guests that I may have here are MY guests, and NOT +guests of the church. Remember that, please." + +There was an embarrassing silence. The deacons recalled that the +pastor's salary WAS slightly in arrears. Elverson coughed +meekly. Strong started. + +"You keep out of this, Elverson!" he cried. "I'm running this +affair and I ain't forgetting my duty nor the parson's." + +"I shall endeavour to do MY duty as I see it," answered Douglas, +turning away and dismissing the matter. + +"Your duty is to your church," thundered Strong. + +"You're right about that, Deacon Strong'" answered Douglas, +wheeling about sharply, "and my duty to the church is reason +enough for my acting exactly as I am doing in this case." + +"Is your duty to the church the ONLY reason you keep that girl +here?" + +"No, there are other reasons." + +"I thought so." + +"You've heard her story--you MUST have heard. She was left with +me by an old clown who belonged in the circus where she worked. +Before he died he asked me to look after her. She has no one +else. I shall certainly do so." + +"That was when she was hurt. She's well now, and able to go back +where she came from. Do you expect us to have our young folks +associatin' with a circus ridin' girl?" + +"So, that's it!" cried the pastor, with a pitying look. "You +think this child is unfit for your homes because she was once in +a circus. For some reason, circus to you spells crime. You call +yourself a Christian, Deacon Strong, and yet you insist that I +send a good, innocent girl back to a life which you say is +sinful. I'm ashamed of you, Strong--I'm ashamed of you!" + +"That talk don't do no good with me," roared Strong. He was +desperate at being accused of an unchristian attitude. + +"I ain't askin' you to send her back to the circus. I don't care +WHERE you send her. Get her away from HERE, that's all." + +"Not so long as she wishes to stay." + +"You won't?" Strong saw that he must try a new attack. He came +close to Douglas and spoke with a marked insinuation. "If you +was a friend to the girl, you wouldn't want the whole +congregation a-pointin' fingers at her." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that you're living here alone with her and it looks +bad--bad for the girl, and bad for YOU--and folks is talkin'." + +"Are you trying to tell me that my people are evil-minded enough +to think that I--" Douglas stopped. He could not frame the +question. "I don't believe it," he concluded shortly. + +"You'll be MADE to believe it if you don't get rid of that girl." + +"Do YOU believe it?" He turned upon the little man at his side! +"Do you believe it, Elverson?" + +Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the +conversation, that he had become hopelessly lost as the +discussion went on, and the sudden appeal to him all but +paralysed his power of speech. He was still gurgling and +sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently. + +"It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're +going to do our duty by the church, and that girl must leave +or----" + +"Or I must." Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. +"That threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you +have said, I should refuse to remain in this church"-- the deacon +stepped forward eagerly--"were it not that I realise more than +ever before how much you need me, how much you ignorant, narrow- +minded creatures need to be taught the meaning of true +Christianity." The deacon was plainly disappointed. + +"Is it possible?" gasped Elverson, weakly. + +"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Strong, when he +could trust himself to speak again. + +"I shall do what is best for Miss Polly," said the pastor quietly +but firmly. + +He turned away to show that the interview was at an end. Strong +followed him. Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to +be mistaken. "Good afternoon, deacon." + +Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then at the gate, +then at the pastor again. "I'll go," he shouted; "but it ain't +the end!" He slammed the gate behind him. + +"Quite so, quite so," chirped Elverson, not having the slightest +idea of what he was saying. He saw the frigid expression on the +pastor's face, he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong. + + + +Chapter X + +Douglas dropped wearily onto the rustic bench. He sat with +drooped head and unseeing eyes. He did not hear Polly as she +scurried down the path, her arms filled with autumn leaves. She +glanced at him, dropped the bright-coloured foliage, and slipped +quickly to the nearest tree. "One, two, three for Mr. John," +she cried, as she patted the huge, brown trunk. + +"Is that you, Polly?" he asked absently. + +"Now, it's your turn to catch me," she said, lingering near the +tree. The pastor was again lost in thought. "Aren't you going +to play any more?" There was a shade of disappointment in her +voice. She came slowly to his side. + +"Sit here, Polly," he answered gravely, pointing to a place on +the bench. "I want to talk to you." + +"Now, I've done something wrong," she pouted. She gathered up +her garlands and brought them to a place near his feet, ignoring +the seat at his side. "You might just as well tell me and get it +over." + +"You couldn't do anything wrong," he answered, looking down at +her. + +"Oh, yes, I could--and I've done it--I can see it in your face. +What is it?" + +"What have you there?" he asked, trying to gain time, and not +knowing how to broach the subject that in justice to her must be +discussed. + +"Some leaves to make garlands for the social," Polly answered +more cheerfully. "Would you mind holding this?" She gave him one +end of a string of leaves. + +"Where are the children?" + +"Gone home." + +"You like the children very much, don't you, Polly?" Douglas was +striving for a path that might lead them to the subject that was +troubling him. + +"Oh, no, I don't LIKE them, I LOVE them." She looked at him with +tender eyes. + +"You're the greatest baby of all." A puzzled line came between +his eyes as he studied her more closely. "And yet, you're not +such a child, are you, Polly? You're quite grown up, almost a +young lady." He looked at her from a strange, unwelcome point of +view. She was all of that as she sat at his feet, yearning and +slender and fair, at the turning of her seventeenth year. + +"I wonder how you would like to go way?" Her eyes met his in +terror. "Away to a great school," he added quickly, flinching +from the very first hurt that he had inflicted; "where there are +a lot of other young ladies." + +"Is it a place where you would be?" She looked up at him +anxiously. She wondered if his "show" was about to "move on." + +"I'm afraid not," Douglas answered, smiling in spite of his heavy +heart. + +"I wouldn't like any place without you," she said decidedly, and +seemed to consider the subject dismissed. + +"But if it was for your GOOD," Douglas persisted. + +"It could never be for my good to leave you." + +"But just for a little while," he pleaded. How was she ever to +understand? How could he take from her the sense of security that +he had purposely taught her to feel in his house? + +"Not even for a moment," Polly answered, with a decided shake of +her head. + +"But you must get ahead in your studies," he argued. + +She looked at him anxiously. She was beginning to be alarmed at +his persistence. + +"Maybe I've been playing too many periscous games." + +"Not periscous, Polly, promiscuous." + +"Pro-mis-cuous," she repeated, haltingly. "What does that mean?" + +"Indiscriminate." He rubbed his forehead as he saw the puzzled +look on her face. "Mixed up," he explained, more simply. + +"Our game wasn't mixed up." She was thinking of the one to which +the widow had objected. "Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?" + +"It depends upon whom you catch," he answered with a dry, +whimsical smile. + +"Well, I don't catch anybody but the children." She looked up at +him with serious, inquiring eyes. + +"Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous." She did not +hear him. She was searching for her book. + +"Is this what you are looking for?" he asked, drawing the missing +article from his pocket. + +"Oh!" cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. "Mandy told +you." + +"You've been working a long time on that." + +"I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me," +she answered, timidly. "But I don't suppose I could." + +"I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly." + +"Do I?" she cried, eagerly. + +"I can help more if you will only let me. I can teach a bigger +class in Sunday-school now. I got to the book of Ruth to-day." + +"You did?" He pretended to be astonished. He was anxious to +encourage her enthusiasm. + +"Um hum!" She answered solemnly. A dreamy look came into her +eyes. "Do you remember the part that you read to me the first +day I came?" He nodded. He was thinking how care-free they were +that day. How impossible such problems as the present one would +have seemed then. "I know every bit of what you read by heart. +It's our next Sunday-school lesson." + +"So it is." + +"Do you think now that it would be best for me to go away?" She +looked up into his troubled face. + +"We'll see, we'll see," he murmured, then tried to turn her mind +toward other things. "Come now, let's find out whether you DO +know your Sunday-school lesson. How does it begin?" There was no +answer. She had turned away with trembling lips. "And Ruth +said"--he took her two small hands and drew her face toward him, +meaning to prompt her. + +"Entreat me not to leave thee," she pleaded. Her eyes met his. +His face was close to hers. The small features before him were +quivering with emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so easily +within his grasp. His muscles grew tense and his lips closed +firmly. He was battling with an impulse to draw her toward him +and comfort her in the shelter of his strong, brave arms. "They +shan't!" he cried, starting toward her. + +Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had heard and seen the +things revealed to each of us only once. She would never again +be a child. + +Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench. + +"What was the rest of the lesson?" he asked in a firm, hard +voice. + +"I can't say it now," Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her +white lids fluttered and closed. + +"Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, I'll help you." +Douglas spoke sharply. He was almost vexed with her and with +himself for the weakness that was so near overcoming them. "And +Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to leave thee----' " + +" 'Or to return from following after thee.' " She was struggling +to keep back the tears. " 'For whither thou goest, I will go, +and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my +people, and thy God my' "-- She stopped. + +"That's right, go on," said Douglas, striving to control the +unsteadiness in his own voice. + +"Where thou diest, will I die' "--her arms went out blindly. + +"Oh, you won't send me away, will you?" she sobbed. "I don't +want to learn anything else just--except--from you." She covered +her face and slipped, a little, broken heap at his feet. + +In an instant the pastor's strong arms were about her, his +stalwart body was supporting her. "You shan't go away. I won't +let you--I won't! Do you hear me, Polly? I won't!" + +Her breath was warm against his cheek. He could feel her tears, +her arms about him, as she clung to him helplessly, sobbing and +quivering in the shelter of his strong embrace. You are never +going to leave me--never!" + +A new purpose had come into his life, the realisation of a new +necessity, and he knew that the fight which he must henceforth +make for this child was the same that he must make for himself. + + + +Chapter XI + +"I'se goin' into de Sunday-school-room to take off dat ere +widow's finishin' touches," said Mandy, as she came down the +steps. + +"All right!" called Douglas. "Take these with you, perhaps they +may help." He gathered up the garlands which Polly had left on +the ground. His eyes were shining, he looked younger than Mandy +had ever seen him. + +Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and +crossed to the elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying +to control her newly awakened emotions. Douglas felt intuitively +that she needed this moment for recovery, so he piled the leaves +and garlands high in Mandy's arms, then ran into the house with +the light step of a boy. + +"I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up," said Mandy as she +shot a sly glance at Polly. + +"That's good," Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling +and blushing guiltily. + +"Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de +parsonage to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room, +whar dey belongs. Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set +aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin' de parson as how folks could jes' +eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I ups an' tells her as how folks +could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n MANDY'S floor, too. +Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore Mandy +to-night." She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the +Sunday-school- room. + +Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her. She hardly knew +which way to turn. She was happy, yet afraid. She felt like +sinking upon her knees and begging God to be good to her, to help +her. She who had once been so independent, so self-reliant, now +felt the need of direction from above. She was no longer master +of her own soul, something had gone from her, something that +would never, never come again. While she hesitated, Hasty came +through the gate looking anxiously over his shoulder. + +"Well, Hasty?" she said, for it was apparent that Hasty had +something important on his mind. + +"It's de big one from de circus," he whispered, excitedly. + +"The big one?" + +"You know-- De one what brung you." + +"You don't mean--?" Polly's question was answered by Jim himself +who had followed Hasty quickly through the gate. Their arms were +instantly about each other. Jim forgot Hasty and every one in +the world except Polly, and neither of them noticed the horrified +Miss Perkins and the Widow Willoughby, who had been crossing the +yard on their way from the Sunday- school-room with Julia. + +"You're just as big as ever," said Polly, when she could let go +of Jim long enough to look at him. "You haven't changed a bit." + +"You've changed enough for both of us." He looked at the +unfamiliar long skirts and the new way of doing her hair. +"You're bigger, Poll; more grown up like." + +"Oh, Jim!" She glanced admiringly at the new brown suit, the +rather startling tie, and the neat little posy in Jim's +buttonhole. + +"The fellows said I'd have to slick up a bit if I was a-comin' to +see you, so as not to make you ashamed of me. Do you like 'em?" +he asked, looking down approvingly at his new brown clothes. + +"Very much." For the first time Jim noticed the unfamiliar +manner of her speech. He began to feel self-conscious. A year +ago she would have said, "You bet!" He looked at her awkwardly. +She hurried on: "Hasty told me you were showing in Wakefield. I +knew you'd come to see me. How's Barker and all the boys?" She +stopped with a catch in her throat, and added more slowly: "I +suppose everything's different, now that Toby is gone." + +"He'd a-liked to a-seen you afore he cashed in," Jim answered; +"but maybe it was just as well he didn't. You'd hardly a-knowed +him toward the last, he got so thin an' peeked like. He wasn't +the same after we lost you, nobody was, not even Bingo." + +"Have you still got Bingo?" she asked, through her tears. + +"Yep, we got him," drawled Jim, "but he ain't much good no more. +None of the other riders can get used to his gait like you was. +There ain't nobody with the show what can touch you ridin', there +never will be. Say, mebbe you think Barker won't let out a yell +when he sees yer comin' back." Jim was jubilant now, and he let +out a little yell of his own at the mere thought of her return. +He was too excited to notice the look on Polly's face. "Toby had +a notion before he died that you was never a-comin' back, but I +told him I'd change all that once I seed yer, and when Barker +sent me over here to-day to look arter the advertisin', he said +he guessed you'd had all you wanted a' church folks. 'Jes' you +bring her along to Wakefield,' he said, 'an' tell her that her +place is waitin' for her,' and I will, too." He turned upon +Polly with sudden decision. "Why, I feel jes' like pickin' yer +up in my arms and carryin' you right off now." + +"Wait, Jim!" She put one tiny hand on his arm to restrain him. + +"I don't mean--not--to-day--mebbe"--he stammered, uncertainly, +"but we'll be back here a-showin' next month." + +"Don't look at me now," Polly answered, as the dog-like eyes +searched her face, "because I have to say something that is going +to hurt you, Jim." + +"You're comin', ain't yer, Poll?" The big face was wrinkled and +care-worn with trouble. + +"No, Jim," she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely +hear her. + +"You mean that you ain't NEVER comin' back?" He tried to realise +what such a decision might mean to him. + +"No, Jim." She answered tenderly, for she dreaded the pain that +she must cause the great, good-hearted fellow. "You mustn't care +like that," she pleaded, seeing the blank desolation that had +come into his face. "It isn't because I don't love you just the +same, and it was good of Barker to keep my place for me, but I +can't go back." + +He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve. "Why, Jim, +when I lie in my little room up there at night"--she glanced +toward the window above them--"and everything is peaceful and +still, I think how it used to be in the old days, the awful noise +and the rush of it all, the cheerless wagons, the mob in the +tent, the ring with its blazing lights, the whirling round and +round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops, till my head got +dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the show, and +the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble of +the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the +animals, and then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I +riding through the streets in tights, Jim! Tights!" She covered +her face to shut out the memory. "I couldn't go back to it, Jim! +I just couldn't!" She turned away, her face still hidden in her +hands. He looked at her a long while in silence. + +"I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it," he said +doggedly. + +"You aren't ANGRY, Jim?" She turned to him anxiously, her eyes +pleading for his forgiveness. + +"Angry?" he echoed, almost bitterly. "I guess it couldn't ever +come to that a-tween you an' me. I'll be all right." He +shrugged his great shoulders. "It's just kinder sudden, that's +all. You see, I never figured on givin' yer up, and when you +said you wasn't comin' back, it kinder seemed as though I +couldn't see nothin' all my life but long, dusty roads, and +nobody in 'em. But it's all right now, and I'll just be gettin' +along to the wagon." + +"But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas," Polly protested, +trying to keep him with her until she could think of some way to +comfort him. + +"I'll look in on him comin' back," said Jim, anxious to be alone +with his disappointment. He was out of the gate before she could +stop him. + +"Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you." She +watched him going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into +his brown coat pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes. He did +not look back, as he used to do, to wave a parting farewell, and +she turned toward the house with a troubled heart. She had +reached the lower step when Strong and Elverson approached her +from the direction of the church. + +"Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?" demanded +Strong. + +She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong +assured her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop +her if she wished to go. He saw the blank look on her face. "We +ain't tryin' to pry into none of your private affairs," he +explained; "but my daughter saw you and that there feller a +makin' up to each other. If you're calculatin' to run away with +him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by doin' it +quick." + +"The parson!" + +"YOU can't blame the congregation for not wantin' him to keep you +here. You got sense enough to see how it looks. HE'D see it, +too, if he wasn't just plain, bull-headed. Well he'd better get +over his stubbornness right now, if he don't we'll get another +minister, that's all." + +"Another minister? You don't mean--?" It was clear enough now. +She recalled Douglas's troubled look of an hour ago. She +remembered how he had asked if she couldn't go away. It was this +that he meant when he promised not to give her up, no matter what +happened. In an instant she was at the deacon's side pleading +and terrified. "You wouldn't get another minister! Oh, please, +Deacon Strong, listen to me, listen! You were right about Jim, he +DID come to get me and I am going back to the circus--only you +won't send Mr. Douglas away, you won't! Say you won't!" She was +searching his eyes for mercy. "It wasn't HIS fault that I kept +staying on. He didn't know how to get rid of me. He DID try, he +tried only to-day." + +"So he's comin' 'round," sneered Strong. + +"Yes, yes, and you won't blame him any more, will you?" she +hurried on anxiously. "You'll let him stay, no matter what he +does, if I promise to go away and never, never come back again?" + +"I ain't holdin' no grudge agin him," Strong grumbled. "He talks +pretty rough sometimes, but he's been a good enough minister. I +ain't forgettin' that." + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Strong, thank you. I'll get my things; it +won't take a minute." She was running up the steps when a sudden +thought stopped her. She returned quickly to Strong. "We'd +better not let him know just yet. You can tell him afterward. +Tell him that I ran away-- Tell him that----" + +She was interrupted by Douglas, who came from the house. "Hello, +Strong, back again?" he asked, in some surprise. Polly remained +with her eyes fixed upon the deacon, searching for some way of +escape. The pastor approached; she burst into nervous laughter. +"What's the joke?" Douglas asked. + +"It's only a little surprise that the deacon and I are planning." +She tried to control the catch in her voice. "You'll know about +it soon, won't he, deacon? Good afternoon, Mr. Strong!" She flew +into the house, laughing hysterically. + +Douglas followed her to the steps with a puzzled frown. It was +unlike Polly to give way to her moods before others. "Have you +gentlemen changed your minds about the little girl staying on?" +he asked, uneasily. + +"It's all right now," said Strong, seating himself with a +complacent air. + +"All right? How so?" questioned Douglas, more and more puzzled by +the deacon's evident satisfaction. + +"Because," said Strong, rising and facing the pastor, "because +your circus-ridin' gal is goin' to leave you of her own accord." + +"Have you been talking to that girl?" asked Douglas, sternly. + +"I have," said Strong, holding his ground. + +"See here, deacon, if you've been browbeating that child, I may +forget that I'm a minister." The knuckles on Douglas's large +fists grew whiter. + +"She's goin', I tell yer, and it ain't because of what I said +either. She's goin' back to the circus." + +"I don't believe you." + +"You would a-believed me if you'd seen the fellow that was just +a-callin' on her, and her a-huggin' and a-kissin' of him and +a-promisin' that she'd be a-waitin' for him here when he come +back." + +"You lie!" cried Douglas, taking a step toward the retreating +deacon. + +"There's the fellow now," cried Strong, as he pointed to the +gate. "Suppose you ask him afore yer call me a liar." + +Douglas turned quickly and saw Jim approaching. His face lighted +up with relief at the sight of the big, lumbering fellow. + +"How are yer, Mr. Douglas?" said Jim, awkwardly. + +"You've seen Polly?" asked Douglas, shaking Jim cordially by the +hand. + +"Yes, I've seen her." + +"The deacon here has an idea that Polly is going back to the +circus with you." He nodded toward Strong, almost laughing at +the surprise in store for him. + +"Back to the circus?" asked Jim. + +"Did she say anything to you about it?" He was worried by the +bewilderment in Jim's manner. + +Before Jim could reply, Polly, who had reached the steps in time +to catch the last few words, slipped quickly between them. She +wore her coat and hat, and carried a small brown satchel. + +"Of course I did, didn't I, Jim?" she said, turning her back upon +the pastor and motioning to Jim not to answer. Douglas gazed at +her in astonishment. + +"What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse, strained voice. He +glanced at the coat and hat. "Where are you going?" + +Polly avoided his eyes and continued nervously to Jim. + +"What made you come back? Why didn't you wait for me down the +street? Now, you've spoiled everything." She pretended to be +very vexed with him. The big fellow looked puzzled. He tried to +protest, but she put a warning finger to her lips and pressed the +little brown satchel into his hand. "It's no use," she went on +hurriedly. "We might as well tell them everything now." She +turned to Douglas and pretended to laugh. "You have found us +out." + +The deacons were slightly uneasy; the frown on Douglas's forehead +was deepening. + +"Oh, see how serious he looks," she teased, with a toss of her +head toward the grim-visaged pastor. + +"Is this some trick?" he demanded, sternly. + +"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "Wish me luck." + +She held out one small hand; he did not take it. She wavered, +then she felt the eyes of the deacons upon her. Courage returned +and she spoke in a firm, clear voice: "I am going to run away." + +Douglas stepped before her and studied her keenly. + +"Run away?" he exclaimed incredulously. + +"Yes, to the circus with Jim." + +"You couldn't DO such a thing," he answered, excitedly. "Why, +only a moment ago you told me you would never leave me." + +"Oh, but that was a moment ago," she cried, in a strained, high +voice. "That was before Jim came. You see, I didn't know HOW I +felt until I saw Jim and heard all about my old friends, how +Barker is keeping my place for me, and how they all want to see +me. And I want to see them, and to hear the music and the +laughter and the clown songs-- Oh, the clown songs!" She waltzed +about, humming the snatch of melody that Mandy had heard the +morning that Polly first woke in the parsonage. + + "Ting, ling. That's how the bells ring, +Ting, ling, pretty young thing + +She paused, her hands clasped behind her head, and gazed at them +with a brave, little smile. "Oh, it's going to be fine! Fine!" + +"You don't know what you're doing," said Douglas. He seized her +roughly by the arm. Pain was making him brutal. "I won't LET +you go! Do you hear me? I won't--not until you've thought it +over." + +"I have thought it over," Polly answered, meeting his eyes and +trying to speak lightly. Her lips trembled. She could not bear +for him to think her so ungrateful. She remembered his great +kindness; the many thoughtful acts that had made the past year so +precious to her. + +"You've been awfully good to me, Mr. John." She tried to choke +back a sob. "I'll never forget it--never! I'll always feel the +same toward you. But you mustn't ask me to stay. I want to get +back to them that knew me first--to my OWN! Circus folks aren't +cut out for parsons' homes, and I was born in the circus. I love +it--I love it! She felt her strength going, and cried out wildly: +"I want Bingo! I want to go round and round the ring! I want the +lights and the music and the hoops! I want the shrieks of the +animals, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at night! I +want to ride in the big parade! I want to live and die--just +die--as circus folks die! I want to go back! I want to go back!" + +She put out one trembling hand to Jim and rushed quickly through +the gate laughing and sobbing hysterically and calling to him to +follow. + + + +Chapter XII + +LONELY days followed Polly's desertion of the parsonage. Mandy +went about her duties very quietly, feeling that the little +comments which once amused the pastor had now become an +interruption to thoughts in which she had no part. He would sit +for hours with his head in his hands, taking no notice of what +passed before him. She tried to think of new dishes to tempt his +appetite, and shook her head sadly as she bore the untasted food +back to the kitchen. + +She sometimes found a portfolio of drawings lying open upon his +study table. She remembered the zeal with which he had planned +to remodel the church and parsonage, when he first came to them; +how his enthusiasm had gradually died for lack of encouragement; +and how he had at last put his books in a cupboard, where they +grew dusty from long neglect. She marvelled at their +reappearance now, but something in his set, far-away look made +her afraid to inquire. Thus she went on from day to day, growing +more impatient with Hasty and more silent with the pastor. + +Mandy needed humor and companionship to oil the wheels of her +humdrum life; there was no more laughter in the house, and she +began to droop. + +Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the +complacency of the village was again upset by the arrival of the +"Great American Circus." + +There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for +speculation was now at fever heat about the pastor. "Would he +try to see her? had he forgotten her? and what had he ever found +in her?" were a few of the many questions that the women were +asking each other. Now, that the cause of their envy was +removed, they would gladly have reinstated the pastor as their +idol; for, like all truly feminine souls, they could not bear to +see a man unhappy without wishing to comfort him, nor happy +unless they were the direct cause of his state. "How dare any +man be happy without me?" has been the cry of each woman since +Eve was created to mate with Adam. + +Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of +Polly's disappearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons +or their recent disapproval of him. He avoided meeting them +oftener than duty required; and Strong felt so uncomfortable and +tongue-tied in his presence that he, too, was glad to make their +talks as few as possible. + +Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or +about his continued connection with the church, and the +inquisitive sisterhood was on the point of exploding from an +over- accumulation of unanswered questions. + +He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor, +listened to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his parishioners, +and shut himself up with his books or walked alone on the hill +behind the church. + +He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus +lot for the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance +was closing. It had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss +Polly was not in the parade that morning, and to know that the +pastor had made no effort to find out about her. For weeks both +she and Hasty had hoped that the return of the circus might bring +Polly back to them; but now it was nearly night and there had +been no word from her. Why didn't she come running in to see +them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the pastor +stayed away on the hills all day? + +Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so +finally she drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held +her small wad of savings, and told Hasty "to go long to de show +and find out 'bout Miss Polly." + +She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at +the door for the second time that afternoon. + +"Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked. + +"No, sah, he ain't," said Mandy, very shortly. She felt that +Strong and Elverson had been "a-tryin' to spy on de parson all +day," and she resented their visits more than she usually did. + +"What time are you expectin' him?" + +"I don't nebber spec' Massa Douglas till I sees him." + +Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps. She saw from +the window that he met Elverson in front of the church. + +"Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble," she mumbled. + +The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had +straggled down the street. She opened the door and stood on the +porch; the house seemed to suffocate her. What was keeping +Hasty? + +He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he +brought unwelcome news. + +"Ain't she dar?" + +"She's wid 'em, all right," said Hasty. + +"Yuh seed her?" + +"Naw, I didn't done SEED her." + +"What?" + +"She want in de show." + +"What you jes' tell me?" + +"She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride." + +"See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?" + +"I don' rightly know," said Hasty. "A great big man, what wored +clothes like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says +as how he's 'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. +An' den he says as how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den +everybody look disappinted like, an' den out comes de udder gal +on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I ain't heard no more 'bout Miss +Polly." + +"Why didn't you done ask somebody?" + +"Warn't nobody ter ask but de man what wuz hurryin' ever'body to +get out of de tent. I done ast him, but he say as 'didn't I git +ma money's worth?' an' den ebberbody laugh, an' he shove me 'long +wid de rest of de folks, an' here I is." + +"She's sick, dat's what _I_ says," Mandy declared, excitedly; +"an' somebody's got to do somethin'!" + +"I done all I knowed," drawled Hasty, fearing that Mandy was +regretting her twenty-five-cent investment. + +"Go 'long out an' fix up dat ere kitchen fire," was Mandy's +impatient reply. "I got to keep dem vittels warm fer Massa +John." + +She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to +get hold of Polly. "Dat baby- faced mornin'-glory done got Mandy +all wobbly 'bout de heart," she declared to herself, as she +crossed to the window for a sight of the pastor. + +It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the path +from the hill. She lighted the study-lamp, rearranged the +cushions, and tried to make the room look cheery for his +entrance. He stopped in the hall and hung up his hat. There was +momentary silence. Would he shut himself in his room for the +night, or would he come into the study? At last the door opened +and Mandy hastened to place a chair for him. + +"Ah's 'fraid you'se mighty tired," she said. + +"Oh, no," answered Douglas, absently. + +"Mebbe you'd like Mandy to be sarvin' your supper in here +to-night. It's more cheerfuller." + +The side-showman was already beginning his spiel in the lot +below. The lemonade venders{sic} and the popcorn sellers were +heard crying their wares. Douglas did not answer her. She +bustled from the room, declaring "she was jes' goin' ter bring +him a morsel." + +He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot. The +flare of the torches and the red fire came up to meet his pale, +tense face. "How like the picture of thirteen months ago," he +thought, and old Toby's words came back to him-- "The show has +got to go on." + +Above the church steeple, the moon was battling its way through +the clouds. His eyes travelled from heaven to earth. There was +a spirit of unreality in it all. Something made him mistrust +himself, his very existence. He longed to have done with dreams +and speculation, to feel something tangible, warm, and real +within his grasp. "I can't go on like this!" he cried. "I +can't!" He turned from the window and walked hurriedly up and +down the room; indoors or out, he found no rest. He threw +himself in the armchair near the table, and sat buried in +thought. + +Mandy came softly into the room. She was followed by Hasty, who +carried a tray, laden with things that ought to have tempted any +man. She motioned for Hasty to put the tray on the table, and +then began arranging the dishes. Hasty stole to the window, and +peeped out at the tempting flare of red fire. + +When Douglas discovered the presence of his two "faithfuls" he +was touched with momentary contrition. He knew that he often +neglected to chat with them now, and he made an effort to say +something that might restore the old feeling of comradeship. + +"Have you had a hard day with the new gravel walk?" he asked +Hasty, remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the +Sunday-school- room. + +Hasty glanced uneasily at Mandy, afraid either to lie or tell the +truth about the disposition she had made of his afternoon. + +"Jes' you come eat yo' supper," Mandy called to Douglas. "Don' +yous worry your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob mine. He ain' +goin' ter work 'nuff. to hurt hisself." For an instant she had +been tempted to let the pastor know how Hasty had gone to the +circus and seen nothing of Polly; but her motherly instinct won +the day and she urged him to eat before disturbing him with her +own anxieties. It was no use. He only toyed with his food; he +was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone. She gave up +trying to tempt his appetite, and began to lead up in a +roundabout way to the things which she wished to ask. + +"Dar's quite some racket out dar in de lot tonight," she said; +Douglas did not answer. After a moment, she went on: "Hasty +didn't work on no walk to-day." Douglas looked at her +quizzically, while Hasty, convinced that for reasons of her own +she was going to get him into trouble, was making frantic +motions. "He done gone to de circus," she blurted out. +Douglas's face became suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had +touched an open wound. + +"I jes' couldn't stan' it, Massa John. I HAD to find out 'bout +dat angel chile." There was a pause. She felt that he was +waiting for her to go on. + +"She didn't done ride to-day." + +He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal. "And de +gemmen in de show didn't tell nobody why--jes' speaked about de +udder gal takin' her place." + +"Why DIDN'T she ride?" cried Douglas, in an agony of suspense. + +"Dat's what I don' know, sah." Mandy began to cry. It was the +first time in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to +give way to any such weakness. He walked up and down the room, +uncertain what to do. + +Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about +Mandy's shoulders. + +"Leab me alone, you nigga!" she exclaimed, trying to cover her +tears with a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed +from the room, followed by Hasty. + +The band was playing loudly; the din of the night performance was +increasing. Douglas's nerves were strained to a point of +breaking. He would not let himself go near the window. He stood +by the side of the table, his fists clenched, and tried to beat +back the impulse that was pulling him toward the door. Again and +again he set his teeth. + +It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. Was she ill? Could she +need him? Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if +he went for her and brought her back with him? He recalled the +hysterical note in her behaviour the day that she went away; how +she had pleaded, only a few moments before Jim came, never to be +separated from him. Had she really cared for Jim and for the old +life? Why had she never written? Was she ashamed? Was she sorry +for what she had done? What could it mean? He threw his hands +above his head with a gesture of despair. A moment later, he +passed out into the night. + + + +Chapter XIII + +JIM was slow to-night. The big show was nearly over, yet many of +the props used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded. + +He was tinkering absent-mindedly with one of the wagons in the +back lot, and the men were standing about idly, waiting for +orders, when Barker came out of the main tent and called to him +sharply: + +"Hey, there, Jim! What's your excuse to- night?" + +"Excuse for what?" Jim crossed slowly to Barker. + +"The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the side show +top ain't loaded yet." + +"Your wagons is on the bum, that's what! Number thirty-eight +carries the cook tent and the blacksmith has been tinkering with +it all day. Ask HIM what shape it's in." + +"You're always stallin'," was Barker's sullen complaint. "It's +the wagons, or the black- smiths, or anything but the truth. _I_ +know what's the matter, all right." + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Jim, sharply. + +"I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin' and a-fetchin' +for that girl what calls you 'Muvver Jim.' " + +"What have yer got to say about her?" Jim eyed him with a +threatening look. + +"I got a-plenty," said Barker, as he turned to snap his whip at +the small boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the +rear edge of the "big top." "She's been about as much good as a +sick cat since she come back. You saw her act last night." + +"Yes," answered Jim, doggedly. + +"Wasn't it punk? She didn't show at ALL this afternoon--said she +was sick. And me with all them people inside what knowed her, +waitin' ter see 'er." + +"Give her a little time," Jim pleaded. "She ain't rode for a +year." + +"Time!" shouted Barker. "How much does she want? She's been back +a month and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. +There's only one thing for me to do." + +"What's that?" asked Jim, uneasily. + +"I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard." + +"Look here, Barker," and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked +steadily at the other man; "you're boss here, and I takes orders +from you, but if I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss +won't make no difference." + +"You can't bluff me," shouted Barker. + +"I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer," said Jim, very quietly. + +"Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, +that's all." He hurried into the ring. + +Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the +ground with thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in +Polly. He had tried to rouse her; it was no use. She had looked +at him blankly. 'If she would only complain," he said to +himself. "If she would only get mad, anything, anything to wake +her." But she did not complain. She went through her daily +routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes wondered how Jim +could talk so much about her work, but before she could answer +the question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden +and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with +folded hands and wide, staring eyes, gazing into the distance. + +The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night. He had +gone on hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the +"let-down" in her work, and now the blow had fallen. How could +he tell her? + +One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent. There was a +moment's confusion, as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each +other on their way to and from the ring, then the lot cleared +again, and Polly came slowly from the dressing tent. She looked +very different from the little girl whom Jim had led away from +the parson's garden in a simple, white frock one month before. +Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with her glittering +attire. Her hair was knotted high on her head {a}nd intertwined +with flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed scarcely able +to support its burden. Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice +were ablaze with white and coloured stones. + +"What's on, Jim?" she asked. + +"The 'Leap o' Death.' " You got plenty a' time." + +Polly's mind went back to the girl who answered that call a year +ago. Her spirit seemed very near to-night. The band stopped +playing. Barker made his grandiloquent announcement about the +wonderful act about to be seen, and her eyes wandered to the +distant church steeple. The moonlight seemed to shun it +to-night. It looked cold and grim and dark. She wondered +whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship had +become as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whirr +of the great machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space +with its girl occupant. These things were a part of the daily +routine, part of the strange, vague dream through which she must +stumble for the rest of her life. + +Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She +had forgotten his presence. + +"Star gazin', Poll?" he asked at length, dreading to disturb her +revery. + +"I guess I was, Jim." She turned to him with a little, forced +smile. He longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke. + +"How yer feelin' to-night?" + +"I'm all right," she answered, cheerfully + +"Anythin' yer want?" + +"Want?" she turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so +much that she wanted, that the mere mention of the word had +opened a well of pain in her heart. + +"I mean, can I do anythin' for you?" + +"Oh, of course not." She remembered how little ANY ONE could do. + +"What is it, Poll?" he begged; but she only turned away and shook +her head with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. "What +made yer cut out the show to-day? Was it because you didn't want +ter ride afore folks what knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?" + +"HIM?" Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. "You +don't mean that he was----" + +"Oh, no," he answered, quickly, "of course not. Parsons don't +come to places like this one. I was only figurin' that yer +didn't want OTHER folks to see yer and to tell him how you was +ridin'." She did not answer. + +"Was that it, Poll?" he urged. + +"I don't know." She stared into space. + +"Was it?" + +"I guess it was," she said, after a long time. + +"I knowed it," he cried. "I was a fool to a-brung you back. Yer +don't belong with us no more." + +"Oh, don't, Jim! don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here, +too!" + +"Here, too?" He looked at her in astonishment. "Yer wasn't in +HIS way, was yer, Poll?" + +"Yes, Jim." She saw his look of unbelief and continued +hurriedly. "Oh, I tried not to be. I tried so hard. He used to +read me verses out of a Bible about my way being his way and my +people his people, but it isn't so, Jim. Your way is the way you +are born, and your people are the people you are born with, and +you can't change it, Jim, no matter how hard you try." + +"YOU was changin' it," he answered, savagely. "You was gettin' +jes' like them people. It was me what took yer away and spoiled +it all. You oughtn't to a come. What made yer, after yer said +yer wouldn't?" + +She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind +of the slow-witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult +question. + +"Will yer answer me somethin' straight?" he asked. + +"Why, of course," she said as she met his gaze. + +"Do you love the parson, Poll?" + +She started. + +"Is that it?" + +Her lids fluttered and closed, she caught her breath quickly, her +lips apart, then looked far into the distance. + +"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid--that's it." The little figure drooped, +and she stood before him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked +at her helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head. + +"Ain't that hell?" + +It seemed such a short time to Jim since he had picked her up, a +cooing babe, at her dead mother's side. He watched the tender, +averted face. Things had turned out so differently from what he +had planned. + +"And he didn't care about you--like that?" he asked, after a +pause. + +"No, not in that way." She was anxious to defend the pastor from +even the thought of such a thing. "He was good and kind always, +but he didn't care THAT WAY. He's not like that." + +"I guess I'll have a talk with him," said Jim, and he turned to +go. + +"Talk!" she cried. + +He stopped and looked at her in astonishment. It was the first +time that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her +tiny figure was stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing. + +"If you ever DARE to speak to him--about me, you'll never see me +again." + +Jim was perplexed. + +"I mean it, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. +If you ever try to fix up things between him and me, I'll run +away--really and truly away--and you'll never, never get me +back." + +He shuffled awkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for +the little, clenched fist. He held it in his big, rough hand, +toying nervously with the tiny fingers. + +"I wouldn't do nothin' that you wasn't a-wantin', Poll. I was +just a tryin' to help yer, only I--I never seem to know how." + +She turned to him with tear-dimmed eyes, and rested her hands on +his great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt +in her heart. + + + +Chapter XIV + +THE "Leap of Death" implements were being carried from the ring, +and Jim turned away to superintend their loading. + +Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from +the main tent. + +Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The +mere mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for +her to ride to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up +to the point of doing it, and now her courage failed her. She +followed Barker as he came from the ring. + +"Mr. Barker, please!" + +He turned upon her sharply. + +"Well, what is it NOW?" + +"I want to ask you to let me off again to-night." She spoke in a +short, jerky, desperate way. + +"What?" he shrieked. "Not go into the ring, with all them people +inside what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?" + +"That's it," she cried. "I can't! I can't!" + +"YER gettin' too tony!" Barker sneered. "That's the trouble with +you. You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that +parson's house. Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. +First thing yer know yer'll be out all 'round." + +"Out?" + +"Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead +one,' do you?" + +"I am not a 'dead one,' " she answered, excitedly. "I'm the best +rider you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself." + +'That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk +about yer mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer." + +"She wouldn't," cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face +was scarlet. The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was +quivering with indignation. "I can ride as well as I EVER could, +and I'll do it, too. I'll do it to-morrow." + +"To-morrow?" echoed Barker. "What do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT," she declared, +"and I won't." + +She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her +own. + +He looked at her with momentary indecision. She WAS a good +rider--the best since her mother, as he had often told her. He +could see this meant an issue. He felt she would be on her +mettle to-morrow, as far as her work was concerned, if he left +her alone to-night. + +"All right," he said, sullenly. "Yer can stay off to-night. I +got the crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money. I'll let +Eloise do a turn on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me +your old act." + +"I'll show you!" she cried. "I'll show you!" + +"Well, see that you do." He crossed into the ring. + +Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense. Jim came +toward her from the direction of the wagons. He glanced at her +uneasily. "What's he been a-sayin' ter you?" + +"He says I can't ride any more." Her lips closed tightly. She +stared straight ahead of her. "He says I was no good to the +people that took me in, and I'm no use here." + +"It's not so!" thundered Jim. + +"No; it's not!" she cried. "I'll show him, Jim! I'll show +him--to-morrow!" She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught +her firmly by the wrist. + +"Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin' into the ring a-feelin' THAT +WAY." Her eyes met his, defiantly. + +"What's the difference? What's the difference?" She wrenched her +wrist quickly from him, and ran into the dressing tent laughing +hysterically. + +"And I brung her back to it," mumbled Jim as he turned to give +orders to the property men. + +Most of the "first-half props" were loaded, and some of the men +were asleep under the wagons. The lot was clear. Suddenly he +felt some one approaching from the back of the enclosure. He +turned and found himself face to face with the stern, solitary +figure of the pastor, wrapped in his long, black cloak. The +moonlight slipped through a rift in the clouds, and fell in a +circle around them. + +"What made you come here?" was all Jim said. + +"I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride to-day. I was afraid she +might be ill." + +"What's that to you?" + +"She ISN'T ill?" Douglas demanded anxiously, oblivious to the +gruffness in the big fellow's voice. + +"She's all right," Jim answered shortly as he shifted uneasily +from one foot to the other, and avoided the pastor's burning +gaze. + +"And she's happy? she's content?" + +"Sure." + +"I'm glad," said Douglas, dully. He tried to think of some way +to prolong their talk. "I've never heard from her, you know." + +"Us folks don't get much time to write." Jim turned away and +began tinkering with one of the wagons. + +Douglas had walked up and down in front of the tents again and +again, fighting against a desire to do the very thing that he was +doing, but to no purpose, and now that he was here, it seemed +impossible that he should go away so unsatisfied. He crossed to +Jim and came determinedly to the point. + +"Can't I see her, Jim?" + +"It's agin the rules." He did not turn. + +There was another pause, then Douglas started slowly out of the +lot. + +"Wait a minute," called Jim, as though the words had been wrung +from him. The pastor came back with a question in his eyes. + +"I lied to you." + +"She's NOT well, then?" + +"Oh, yes, she's well enough. It ain't that; it's about her being +happy." + +"She isn't?" There was a note of unconscious exultation in his +voice. + +"No. She AIN'T happy here, and she WAS happy WITH YOU." + +"Then, why did she leave me?" + +"I don't know. She wasn't goin' ter do it at first. Somethin' +must a-happened afterwards, somethin' that you an' me didn't know +about." + +"We WILL know about it, Jim. Where is she?" His quick eye +searched the lot. His voice had regained it's old command. He +felt that he could conquer worlds. + +"You can't do no good that way," answered Jim. "She don't want +ter see you again." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know, but she told me she'd run away if I ever even +talked to you about her." + +"You needn't talk, Jim; I'll talk for myself. Where is she?" + +"She'll be comin' out soon. You can wait around out here with +me. I'll let you know in time." He led the way through a narrow +passage between the wagons. + +Jim and Douglas had barely left the lot when Deacon Elverson's +small, round head slipped cautiously around the corner of the +dressing tent. The little deacon glanced exultantly about him. +He was monarch of all he surveyed. It was very thrilling to +stand here, on this forbidden ground, smelling the saw- dust, +gazing at the big red wagons, studying the unprotected circus +properties, and listening to the lightening tempo of the band. + +"Did you see him?" shouted Strong, who had followed closely upon +Elverson's heels. + +The little deacon started. Strong was certainly a disturbing +factor at times. + +"Yes, I--I saw him." + +"Well?" + +"He--he--didn't see HER." + +"What DID he do?" Strong was beside himself with impatience. + +"He--he just talked to the big 'un, and went out that way." +Elverson nodded toward the wagons. + +"I guess he ain't gone far," sneered Strong. "He come over to +this lot to see her, and he ain't goin' ter give up till he does +it. You wait here; I'll take a look round." He went quickly in +the direction of the wagons. + +Elverson needed no second invitation to wait. He was +congratulating himself upon his good fortune, when he all but +collided with a flying apparition, vanishing in the direction of +the main tent. Sophisticated eyes would have seen only a rather +stout acrobat clad in pink tights; but Elverson was not +sophisticated, and he teetered after the flitting angel, even +unto the forbidden portals of the "big top." + +He was peeping through the curtains which had fallen behind her, +and was getting his first glimpse of the great, sawdust world +beyond, when one of the clowns dashed from the dressing tent on +his way to the ring. + +The clown was late. He saw the limp coat tails of the deacon, +who was three-quarters in the tent. Here was a chance to make a +funny entrance. He grabbed the unsuspecting little man from the +rear. The terrified deacon struck out blindly in all directions, +his black arms and legs moving like centipede, but the clown held +him firmly by the back and thrust him, head foremost, into the +tent. + +Strong returned almost immediately from his unsuccessful search +for the pastor. He looked about the lot for Elverson. + +"Hey, there, Elverson!" he called lustily. There was no +response. + +"Now where's he got to," grumbled Strong. He disappeared quickly +around the corner of the dressing tent, resolved to keep a sharp +lookout for Douglas. + +Elverson was thrust from the tent soon after, spitting sawdust +and much discomfited by the laughing performers who followed him. +His knees almost gave way beneath him when Barker came out of the +ring, snapping his long, black whip. + +"Get out of here, you bloke!" roared Barker. and Elverson "got." + +No one had remembered to tell the groom that Polly was not to +ride to-night. So Bingo was brought out as usual, when their +"turn" approached. + +"Take him back, Tom," Polly called from the entrance, when she +learned that Bingo was waiting, "and bring Barbarian. I'm not +going on to-night. Eloise is going to ride in my place." + +This was the second time to-day that Bingo had been led away +without going into the ring. Something in his big, wondering +eyes made Polly follow him and apologise. He was very proud, was +Bingo, and very conscientious. He felt uneasy when he saw the +other horses going to their work without him. + +"Never mind, Bingo," she said, patting his great, arched neck, +"we'll show 'em to-morrow." He rubbed his satiny nose against +her cheek. "We'll make them SIT UP again. Barker says our act's +no good--that I've let down. But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. +I've not been fair to you. I'll give you a chance to-morrow. +You wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo! Never again!" She +watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as he nipped +the attendant on the arm. He was still irritated at not going +into the ring. + +Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her +street clothes. The wagons would soon be moving away. For a +moment she glanced at the dark church steeple, then she turned to +go inside the tent. A deep, familiar voice stopped her. + +"Polly!" + +She turned quickly. She could not answer. Douglas came toward +her. He gazed at her in amazement. She drew her cape about her +slightly clad figure. She seemed older to him, more +unapproachable with her hair heaped high and sparkling with +jewels. Her bodice of satin and lace shimmered through the +opening of her cape. The moonlight lent mystery and indecision +to her betinselled attire. The band was playing the andante for +the balancing act. + +She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound +came from them. She and the pastor looked at each other +strangely, like spirits newly met from far-apart worlds. She, +too, thought her companion changed. He was older, the circles +beneath his eyes were deeper, the look in their depths more +grave. + +"We were such close neighbours to-day, I--I rather thought you'd +call," he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying--it did +not matter--he was there with her. + +"When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling." + +"That's why I've come to call on you." They might have been +sheppherd and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting +way in which their words came. + +"You're all right?" he went on. "You're happy?" + +"Yes, very," she said. Her eyes were downcast. + +He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white +face belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her? + +"Jim said you might not want to see me." + +She started. + +"Has Jim been talking to you?" + +"Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you +left that you'd never change-- toward me. Have you, Poll?" He +studied her, anxiously. + +"Why, no, of course not," she said, evasively. + +"And you'll be quite frank when I ask you something?" + +"Yes, of course." She was growing more and more uneasy. She +glanced about for a way of escape. + +"Why did you leave me as you did?" + +"I told you then." She tried to cross toward the dressing tent. + +He stepped quickly in front of her. + +"You aren't answering FRANKLY, and you aren't happy." + +She was growing desperate. She felt she must get away, anywhere, +anywhere. + +He seized her small wrists and forced her to look at him. + +"And _I_ am not happy without YOU, and I never, NEVER can be." +The floodgates were open, his eyes were aglow, he bent toward her +eagerly. + +"Oh, you mustn't," she begged. "You MUSTN'T." + +"You've grown so close," he cried. "So close!" She struggled to +be free. He did not heed her. "You know--you must know what I +mean." He drew her toward him and forced her into his arms. +"You're more precious to me than all else on this earth." + +For the first time he saw the extreme pallor on her face. He +felt her growing limp and lifeless in his arms. A doubt crossed +his mind. "If I am wrong in thinking you feel as I do, if you +honestly care for all this," he glanced about at the tents, "more +than for any life that I can give you, I shan't interfere. +You'll be going on your way in an hour. I'll say good-bye and +God bless you; but if you do care for me, Polly," he was pleading +now, "if you're NOT happy here-- won't you come back to me? Won't +you, Polly?" + +She dared not meet his eyes, nor yet to send him away. She stood +irresolute. The voice of Deacon Strong answered for her. + +"So! You're HERE, are you?" + +"Yes, Deacon Strong, I'm here," answered the pastor, as he turned +to meet the accusing eyes of the deacon, who had come quickly +from behind the dressing tent. + +"As for you, miss," continued Strong, with an insolent nod toward +Polly, "I might have known how you'd keep your part of the +bargain." + +"Bargain?" echoed Douglas. "What bargain?" + +"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please. I didn't mean to see him, I +didn't, truly." She hardly knew what she was saying. + +"What bargain?" demanded Douglas sternly. + +"She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each +other agin," roared Strong. "If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to +keep on with this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so +easy." + +"So! That's it!" cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He +recalled everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her +tears. "It was you who drove that child back to this." He +glanced at Polly. The narrow shoulders were bent forward. The +nervous little fingers were clasping and unclasping each other. +Never before had she seemed so small and helpless. + +"Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!" + +"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. + +"It would have done no good," she sobbed. "Oh, why--why won't +you leave me alone?" + +"It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he +to send you back to this?" + +"I had every right," said Strong, stubbornly. + +"What?" cried Douglas. + +"It was my duty." + +"Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!" + +"I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my +parson." + +"I'm NOT your parson any longer," declared Douglas. He faced +Strong squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. +Polly clung to him, begging and beseeching. + +"Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!" + +"What do you mean by that?" shouted Strong. + +"I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow- minded +congregation before, because I believed you needed me. But now +this girl needs me more. She needs me to protect her from just +such injustice as yours." + +"You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you." + +"I can do that WITHOUT your advice." + +"Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl +a-hangin' 'round your neck." + +"He's right," cried Polly. "You couldn't." She clung to the +pastor in terrified entreaty. "You COULDN'T get another church. +They'd never, never forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let +me go! you've GOT to!" + +"Listen, Polly." He drew her toward him. "God is greater than +any church or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE--HIS +work." + +"You'll soon find out about that," thundered Strong. + +"So I will," answered Douglas, with his head thrown high. "This +child has opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader, +deeper humanity; she and I will find the way together." + +"It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that." Strong turned +to go. + +"I'm not looking for the easy way!" Douglas called after him, +then he turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had +slipped from his side to follow the deacon. + +"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!" she pleaded. "You won't go +away like that. He'll be all right if you'll only wait. I'm NOT +coming back. I'm not--honestly. I'm going on with the show, +to-night, and I'm going this time FOREVER." + +"You are going to stay here with me," cried Douglas. + +"No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, and I won't be to +blame for your unhappiness." She faced him firmly now. "I don't +belong to your world, and I don't want to try any more. I'm what +he called me--I'm a circus riding girl. I was born in the +circus, and I'll never change. That's my work--riding, and it's +yours to preach. You must do your work, and I'LL do MINE." + +She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already +waiting at the entrance + +"Eloise!" She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound +of Barker's voice. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he called. "Although we are obliged to +announce that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear +to-night, we offer you in her place an able substitute, +Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black, untamed horse, Barbarian." + +Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount. + +"No! No!" cried Polly. + +The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice. + +"Polly!" + +"Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!" + +"You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn." + +"So much the better!" She seized the bridle from the frightened +girl's hand. + +"Polly!" shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance. + +"I must! I will!" + +She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one +step to follow her. + +"You'd better let her alone and get out o' here," said Strong. +His voice was like a firebrand to Douglas. He turned upon him, +white with rage. + +"You drove her to this." His fists were clenched. He drew back +to strike. + +Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the +uplifted arm. + +"Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job." The pastor +lowered his arm, but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's +face. + +"Where's Poll?" asked Jim. + +"In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning +his head. He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing +hard. + +"What?" cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about and saw Eloise. He +guessed the truth. A few quick strides brought him to the +entrance curtains. He threw them back and looked into the ring. + +"My God! Why don't Barker stop her?" + +"What is it?" called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror +at Jim's behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed. + +"She's goin' ter ride! She's goin' ter ride Barbarian!" + +Douglas crossed to his side and looked. + +Polly was springing onto the back of Barbarian. He was a poorly +trained horse, used by the other girl for more showy, but less +dangerous feats than Polly's. + +"She's goin' through her regular turn with him, she's tryin' ter +break her neck," said Jim. "She wants ter do it. It's your +fault!" he cried, turning upon Douglas with bloodshot eyes. He +was half insane, he cared little whom he wounded. + +"Why can't we stop her?" cried Douglas, unable to endure the +strain. He took one step inside the entrance. + +"No, no; not that!" Jim dragged him back roughly. "If she sees +you now, it will be the end." They watched in silence. "She's +over the first part," Jim whispered, at last. + +Douglas drew back, his muscles tense, as he watched the scene +inside the ring. Eloise stood at the pastor's side, +horror-stricken at Polly's reckless behaviour. She knew +Barbarian. It was easy to guess the end. + +"She's comin' to the hoops," Jim whispered, hoarsely. + +"Barbarian don't know that part, I never trained him," the other +girl said. + +Polly made the first leap toward the hoops. The horse was not at +fault; it was Polly. She plunged wildly, the audience started. +She caught her footing with an effort. One, two, three hoops +were passed. She threw herself across the back of the horse and +hung, head downward, as he galloped around the ring. The band +was playing loudly, the people were cheering. She rose to meet +the last two hoops. + +"She's swayin'," Jim shrieked in agony. "She's goin' to fall. +He covered his face with his hands. + +Polly reeled and fell at the horse's side. She mounted and fell +again. She rose and staggered in pursuit. + +"I can't bear it," groaned Douglas. He rushed into the ring, +unconscious of the thousands of eyes bent upon his black, +ministerial garb, and caught the slip of a girl in his arms just +as she was about to sink fainting beneath the horse's hoofs. + +Barker brought the performance to a halt with a crack of his +whip. The audience stood on tiptoe. White-faced clowns and +gaily attired acrobats crowded around Polly and the pastor. + +Douglas did not see them. He had come into his own. + +"He's bringin' her out," whispered Eloise, who still watched at +the entrance. Jim dared not look up, his head was still in his +hands. + +"Is it over?" he groaned. + +"I don't know. I can't tell yet." She stepped aside as Douglas +came out of the tent, followed by a swarm of performers. He +knelt on the soft grass and rested Polly's head upon his knee. +The others pressed about them. It seemed to Douglas that he +waited hours; then her white lids quivered and opened and the +colour crept back to her lips. + +"It's all right, Jim!" called one of the men from the crowd. +"She's only fainted." The big fellow had waited in his tracks +for the verdict. + +Polly's eyes looked up into those of the parson --a thrill shot +through his veins. + +"It was no use, was it?" She shook her head with a sad little +smile. He knew that she was thinking of her failure to get out +of his way. + +"That's because I need you so much, Polly, that God won't let you +go away from me." He drew her nearer to him, and the warm blood +that shot to her cheeks brought back her strength. She rose +unsteadily, and looked about her. Jim came toward her, white and +trembling. + +"All right, Poll?" + +"Oh, Muvver Jim!" She threw herself into his arms and clung to +him, sobbing weakly. + +No one could ever remember just how the audience left the big top +that night, and even Barker had no clear idea of how Jim took +down the tents, loaded the great wagons, and sent the caravan on +its way. + +When the last wagon was beginning to climb the long, winding road +of the moon-lit hill, Jim turned to Polly, who stood near the +side of the deserted ring. His eyes travelled from her to the +parson, who waited near her. She was in her street clothes now, +the little brown Quakerish dress which she had chosen to wear so +much since her return from the parsonage. + +"I guess I won't be makin' no mistake this time," he said, and he +placed her hand in that of the parson. + +"Good-bye, Muvver Jim," faltered Polly. + +He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. A mother's +spirit breathed through his kiss. + +"I'm glad it's like this," he said, then turned away and followed +the long, dotted line of winding lights disappearing slowly over +the hill. + +Her eyes travelled after him. + +Douglas touched the cold, little hand at her side. + +"I belong with them," she said, still gazing after Jim and the +wagons. + +"You belong with me," he answered in a firm, grave voice, and +something in the deep, sure tones told her that he was speaking +the truth. She lifted one trembling hand to his shoulder, and +looked up into his face. + +"Whither thou goest, will I go, where thou diest, will I die." + +He drew her into his arms. + +"The Lord do so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee +and me." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Polly of the Circus by Margaret Mayo + diff --git a/old/pcrcsx10.zip b/old/pcrcsx10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..08c3b16 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pcrcsx10.zip |