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.
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