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.
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