" 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.
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