Polly of the Circus | Page 9

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,