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.
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