fDOLLYCFIHE
TBFE "-CIRCUS
* ■
\ff , COFYMGBT. INI. »r DODD. MEAD AND CONrANT
[Continued]
'' CHAPTER XII.
(T V)NELY days followed Polly's
I desertion of the parsonage.
II Mandy went about her duties
1 ' very quietly, feeling tbat the
little comments which once auiused the
pastor had now become an Interruption
to thoughts In which she had no part
Be would sit for hours with his head
In bis hands, talcing no notice of what
passed before htm. She tried to think
of new dishes to tempt his appetite and
shook her head sadly as she bore the ;
untHsted food baek to the kitchen ~
She sometimes fouud a portfolio of j
drawings lying open upon his study ta
ble. She remembered the zeal with !
■which he had planned to remodel the
church and parsonage wheir he first j
came to them, how his enthusiasm bad
gradually died for lack of encourage- t
meut and haw he had at last put his
books In a cupboard, where they grew ;
dusty from long neglect. She mar- 1
veled at their reappearance now, but
something in his set, faraway look
made her afraid to Inquire. Thus she ;
went on from day to day, growing
pioro impatient with Hasty and more
client with the pastor.
Mandy needed humor and compan- j
lon ship to oil the wheels of her hum- j
drum life. There was no more laugh- !
ter In the house, and she began to j
droop.
Polly had been away from the parson- j
age a month when the complacency of
the village was again upset by the ar
rival of the "Great American Circus."
There were many callers at the par
sonage that day, for speculation was
now at fever heat about the pastor.
"Will he try to see her?" "Has he for
jfotten her?" and "What did he ever
find in her?" were a few of the many
questions that the women were asking
each other. Now that the cause of
their envy was removed they would
gladly have reinstated the pastor as
tbelr idol, for, like all truly feminine
•ouls. they cquld not bear to see a man
unhappy without wishing to comfort
him. nor happy unless they were the
direct cause of his state. "How dare
any man be happy without me?" has
been the cry of each woman since Eve
*ras created to mote with Adam.
Douglas had held himself more and
more aloof from the day of Polly's dis
appearance. He exiwessed no opinion
about the deacons or their recent dls- 1
approval of hlin. He avoided meeting
them oftener than duty required, and
Strong felt so uncomfortable and j
tongue tied In his presence t hat he, too,
-was glad to make their talks as few
as possible."
Nothing was said about the pastor's
plans for the future or about his con- J
tlnued connection with the church, and
the Inquisitive sisterhood was on the j
point of exploding from an overac
cumulatlon of unanswered questions, j
He delivered his sarmons consclen-'
—tiously, called upon his poor, listened
the sorrows, real and fancied, of his
'parishioners and shut himself up with
his books or alone on the hill
behind the church. '•«- »• j
v We had been absent all day when
Mandy looked out on the circus lot
for the dozenth time and saw that the
afternoon performance was closing. It
had driven her to desperation to learn
that Miss Polly was not In the parade
that morning and to know that the
pastor had made no effort to find out
about her. For weeks both she and
Hasty had hoped that the return of
the circus might bring Polly back to
them, but now It was nearly night
and there had been no word from her |
Why didn't she come running In to see
-them, as Mandy had felt so sure she
•would? Why had the pastor stayed
away on the hills all day?
Unanswered questions were always'
an abomination to Mandy, so Anally
ahe drew a quarter from the knotted
gingham rag that held her sitiall wad
of savings and told Hasty to "go 'long
rto de show an' find out 'bout Miss
Polly." * |
She was anxiously waiting for him
•when Deacoi Strong knocked at the
door for the second time that after
noon. "t ,
"Is Mr. Douglas back yet?" he asked
"No, sab, he ain't," said Mandy very
ahortly. She felt that Strong and El
verson had been "a-tryin' to spy on do
parson all day," and she resented theb j
("visits more than she usually did.
i "What time are yoa expectln' him?";
j "I don't nebber spec* Massa Doug-'
la a till I sees hlin."
Strong grunted uncivilly and went
down the steps. She saw from the
wladow that he met Elveraon In front
•of the church* |
"Dey sure am a-meanln* trouble,'*
ahe mumbled.
I The band had stopped playing; the
down the street. She opened the door i
and stood on the porch; the house|
seemed to suffocate her. What
Hasty?
He came a$ last, but Mandy,could
tell from his gait tbat he brought un
welcome knews.
"Ain't she dar?"
"She's a-trabbelln' wld 'em, Mandy.
but she didn't done ride."
"See heah, Hasty Jones, la dut ere
chile Jfcfcr
"I doa' rightly know," said Hasty.
£A great blj, m*n, what worcd clotfifi*!
like a geibilien, ctfhjSTouT w!3 a whip ]
In his hand an' aaya as how he's ,
'bilged to 'nounce anudder gal In Miss | |
Polly's place. An' den he says as how j ,
de udder gal was jea' as good, an' den;
everybody look disappointed.' like, an'j ,
den out comes de udder gal on n bos* ,
an' do tricks, ap' I ain't heard no more j
•bout Mlys Polly." ,
"She's %lek, dat's what I says," Man ! i
dy deplaned excitedly, "an' somebody's ,
got to do somethln'!" ] |
"1 done all I knowed," drawled Has- j
ty, fearing that Mandy was regretting ,
her tweuty-flve ceut Investment. i j
"Oo 'long out an' fix up dat 'ere
kitchen Are," was Mandy's Impatient i
reply. "I got to keep dem vlttels j
warm for Massa John."
She wished to be alone, so that she'
could think of some way to get hold
of PoHy. " ir Dat baby faced htornin' ~
glory done got Mandy aW wobbly 'bout
de heart." she declared to herself as
she crossed to the window for a sight |
of the pastor.
It was nearly dark when she saw j
him coming slowly down the path j
from the hill. She lighted the study .
"She'a sick, daft t chat I nay*."
lamp, rearranged the cushions and |
tried to make the room look cheery |
for his entrance. - |
"I's 'frald yo's mighty tired," she
said.
"Oh, no," answered Douglas absently
"Mebbe yo'd like Mandy to lie sarvln' i
your supper In here tonight. It's more [
cheerfuler."
He crossed to the window and looked '
out upon the circus lot. The flare of
the torches and the red Are came up
to meet his pale, tense face. "How,
like the picture of thirteen months
ago,'" be thought, and old Toby's words I
came back to him—"The show has got
to go ou.' L
He longed to have done with dreamt
and speculation, to feel something tan-;
gible, warm and real within Ills grasp.'
"I can't go on like this!" he cried. "I
can't!" He turned from the window
Wflked hurriedly up and down the
room. Indoors or out, fiT found no
rest. He threw himself In the arm
chair iieartte table and sat burled In
thought.
JVlandy came softly Into the room.
She was followed by Hasty, who car
ried a tray laden with tliiugs that
6«jght to have tempted any man. She
motioned for Hasty to put the tray
on the table and then begau arranging ;
the dishes. Hasty stole to the window j
and peeped out at the tempting Aare
of red Are.
When Douglas discovered the pres
ence of his two "faithfuls" he was
touched with momentary contrition. j
' Have you had a hard day with the
new gravel walk?" he asked Hasty, i
remembering that be had been laying i
a fresh path to the Sunday school
room.
"Jes* yo' come eat yo' supper," Man- j
dy called to Douglas. "Don' yo* worry }
your head 'bout dat lazy husban' ob i
mine. He o aln't goln' ter work 'nuff j
to hurt hlsself." For au instant sho j
had been tempted to let the pastor j
know how Hasty had gone to the cir- 1
cus and seen nothing of Polly, but her
motherly Instinct won the day, and j
ahe urged him to eat Ijefore disturbing
him with her own anxieties. It was
no use. He only toyed with his food;]
he was clearly 111 at ease and eager to
be alone. She gave up trying to tempt j
bis appetite and began to lead up In j
a roundabout way to the things which
she wished to ask.
"Dar's quite some racket out dar In
de lot tonight," she said. Douglas did
not answer. After a moment she went «
on, "Hasty didn't work on no walk
today." Douglas looked at her quiz
zically, while Hasty, convinced that,
for reasons of her own she was going '
to get him Into trouble, was making j !
frantic motions. "He done gone ter de
circus."" she blurted out Douglas' face j
became suddenly grave. Mandy saw ,
that she had touched an open wound, j
"I Jes' couldn't stan' It, Massa John.
I bad ter And out 'bout dat angel chile." !
There was a pause. She felt that he J
was waiting for her to go on., . 
"She didn't done ride, today." 1
He looked up with the eyes of a s
dumb, persecuted animal. "And de ,
gem men In de show didn't tell nobody |
why—jes' speaked 'boot de udder gal.,
takln' her pitkee." 1 ,
"Why didn't the rider cried Doug
las, in an agony of suspense.
. ."Dat 1 * what I don' know, sib." 1 '
Mahuy l>egan to "cry. It was ihe urst
time In his experience that Douglas
had over known her to give way to
nuy such weakness.
Hasty came dawn from the window
and tried to put oue arm about Man
dy's shoulders.
"Lenb ine alone, yo* nigger!" she ex
claimed. trying to cover her tears with
a allow of anger that she did not feel;
then she rushed from the room, fol
lowed by Hasty.
The band was playing loudly. The
din of the night performance was
Increasing! Douglas* nerves were j
strained to the point of breaking. He j
would not let himself go uear the win- i
dow. lie stood by the side of the ta-1
ble. Ills tisls clinched, and tried to;
beat back the impulse that was pulling
him toward the door. Again and again !
he set EH teeth.
It was uncertainty that gnawed at
him so. Was she ill? Could she need j
him? Was she sorry for having left;
blin? Would sh; be glad If he weut
for her and brought her back with
him? He recalled the hysterical note
In her behavior the day that she went
away—how she had pleaded, only a
few moments before Jim came, never
to be separated from him. Had she
really cared for Jim and for the old
life? Why had she never written?
Was she ashamed? Was she sorry for
what she had done? What could It
mean? He threw his hands above his
head with a gesture of despair. A mo
ment later he passed out into the night.
CHAPTER XIII.
mIM was slow tonight. The big
show was nearly over, yet
many of the props used In the
early part of the bill were still
unloaded.
He was tinkering abseutmindedly
with one of the wagons In the back lot,
and the men were standing about Idly
waltlug for orders when Barker came
out of the main tent and called to him
sharply:
"Hey, there, Jim! What's your ex
cuse tonight?"
. "Excuse for what?" Jim crossed
•lowly to Barker.
"The cook teut was started half an
hour Tate, and th«* sideshow top ain't
loaded yet."
"Your wagons Is on the bum; that's
what! No. 38 carries the cook tent,
nil' the blacksmith has !>een tlnkerln*
with it all day. Ask him what shape
It's In."
"You're always stallin'," was Bar
ker's sullen complaint. "It's the wag
ous or the blacksmiths or anything but
the truth. 1 know what's the matter,
all right."
"Whut do you mean by that?" "asked
Jim sharply.
"I mean that all your time's took up i
a-carryln' and a-fetcbln' for thiit girl
what calls you 'Muvver Jim.'"
"What have you got to say about
he/XL. Jim ejed hlili .with a threaten
lug look.
"I got a-plenty," said Bftrker as he
turned to snap his whip at the small |
boys who had stolen Into the back lot |
to peek under the rear edge of the I
big top. "She's been about as much I
good ss a sick cat since she come back, j
You saw her act last night."
"Yes," answered Jim doggedly.
"Wasn't U punk? Khe didn't show at,
fill this afternoon; said she was sick.;
Arid me with all them people Inside j
what know:>d her waltin' to see her!"
"ilre her a little time," Jim pleaded.
"She ain't rode for a year." „
"Time!" shouted Barker. "How much j
does she want? She's beep linck n i
month, and Instead of up she's J
a-gettln' worse. There's only one thin#
for-me to do."
"What's that?" asked Jim uneasily, j
"I'm goin' to call her, and call hot j
hard."
"Look here, Barker," and Jim squared \
his shoulders as he looked steadily al
the other man, "you're boss here, and
I takes orders from you, but If I
catches yon obusln' Poll your belli' j
boss won't make no difference."
"You can't bluff me!" shouted Barker ;
"I ain't blulfin'. I'm only tellln' you,"!*
said Jim very quietly.
"Well, you tell her to get on to bet
Job. If she don't, she quits; that's all."
He hurried into the ring.
Jim took one stef) to follow him,
then stopped and gazed at the ground;
with thoughtful eyes. He, too; had j
seen the change In Polly. He had tried!
to rouse her. It was no use. She had
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he writes,-"suffering as I did from 1
a severe lung trouble and stubborn 1
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Colds, obstinate Coughs, and pre- 1
vent Pneumonia, it's the best med- i
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Guaranteed by all druggisis. Trial j
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MK^.,• .
"Star uazin\ Poll f" he asked.
looked at him blankly. "If she would
only complain," he said to himself;
"If she would only get mad, anything
anything to wake her." But she did
nqt complain. She went through her
daily I'iiutlue very hunibly aud quietly.
She ponietlnies wondered how Jim
could talk so much about her work
but before she could-answer the ques
tlon her mind drifted back to othet
days, to a garden and flowers, and Jlui
stole away tin missed and left her with
folded hand and wide, staring eyes,
gazing into tile distance.
The memory of these times made
Jim helpless tonight. He had gone 011
hoping from day to day that Barkei
mlglu not notice the "let down" In lie!
work, and now the blow had fallen
How could be tell her?
One of tljo acts came tumbling out
of the main tent. There was a mo
ment's confusion as clowns, acrobat?
and animals passed each other 011 theli
way to and from the ring; then the lot
cleared again, and Polly came slowly
fr« Mil the dressing tent. She looked
very different from the little glr
whom Jim had led away from the par
son's garden In a simple white frock
one month before. Her thin, pensive
faee contrasted oddly with her glitter
lng attire. Her hair was knotted high
on her head and Intertwined wilt
flowers and jewels. Her slender neck
deemed scarcely able to support Its
burden. Iler short, full skirt and low
cut bodice were ablaze with wlilti,
and colored stones.
"What's on, Jim?" she asked.
"The leap o' death.' You got plenty
of time."
Polly's mind went back to the girl
who nnswered that call a year ago,
fli-r spirit seemed very near tonight.
The band stopped playing. Barker
made his grandiloquent announcement
about the wonderful act about to be
seen, and her eyes wandered to the
distant chutvli steeple. The moonlight
seemed to shun It tonight. It looked
cold and grim and dark. She won
dered whether tbe solemn bell that
once called Its flock to worship had
liecomc as mute as her own dead heart.
She did not hear the whir of the great
machine Inside tbe teut as It plunged
through spree with Its girl occupant.
These things were a part of Ibe dally
routine, part of the strange, vague
dH>«+» through wUiv li must stum
ble for the rest of her life. 
Jim watched her In silence. Her
face was turned from him. She had
forgotten his presence.
"Star gazln', Poll?" be asked at
length, dreading to disturb lier reverie
"I guess 1 was, Jtm." She turned to
him with a little, forced smile. 110
longed to save her from Barker's
threatened rebuke.
"llow you feelln' tonight?"
"I'm all right," she answered cheer
fully.
"Anything you want?"
"Want?" She turned upon him with
stqrtied eyes. There was so much
that she wanted that the mere men
tion of (lie word had opened a well of
pnln In her heart. \
"I mean can I do anything for you?"
"Oh, of course not." She remem
bered how little any one could do.
"What Is It, Poll?" he begged, but
she only turned away and shook her
head with a sigh. He followed her
with anxious eyes. "What made you
eut out the show today? Was it be
cause you didn't want to ride-afore
folks what knowed you-ride afore
him mebbe?"
"Him?" Her face was white. Jim
fs>ared she might swoon. "You don't
mean that he was"—
"Oh, no," he answered quickly, "of
course not. Parsons don't -come to
places like this one. I was only flgur
ln' that you didn't want other folks to'
see an' to tell him how you was rid-
In*." She did not answer.
"Was that It Poll?" be urged.
"I don't know." She stared into space.
"Was It?"
"I guess It was," she sftld after a
long time. ——
"I knowed It!" he cried. "I was a
fool to 'a' brung you li&ek! You don't
belong with us uo more."
"Oh, don't. Jim! l>on't! Don't make
me feel I in In tho way here too!"
"Here too?" He looked at her in as
tonlshment "You wasn't In his way,
was you, Poll?"
"Yes, Jim." She saw his look of un
belief and continued hurriedly: "Oh, 1
tried not to be! I tried so hard. He
used to read me verses out of a Bible
about my way being his way and my
people hJs people, but It isn't so, Jim.
Your way Is the way you are born, and
your people are the people you are
born with, and you caa't change It,
Jim. no matter how bafll you try."
:i . .i-f i».. • . .. ,-v
"TOT was cliangln" it," "he
savagely. "You wai gettln* je»' like
them people. It was me what took you
away an' It all. You oughtn't
to 'a' come. What made you after you
said you wouldn't?"
She did not answer. Strange things
were going through the mind of the
slow wltted Jim. He braced himself
for a difficult question,
"Will you answer me somethln'
straignt?" he asked.
"Why, of course," she said as she
met his gnxo.
"I>o you love the parson, Poll?"
She started,
vis that It?"
Her lids fluttered and closed; she
caught her breath quickly, her lips
apart, then looked far Into the dis
tance.
"Yes, Jim, I'm afraid that's It." Tho
little figure drooped, and she stood be
fore him with lowered eyes, unarmed.
Jim looked at her helplessly, then
shook his big, stupid head.
"Ain't that h—1?"
It seemed such a short time to Jim
since be bad picked her up, a cooing
babe, at her dead mother's side. He
watched the tender, averted face.
Things had turned out so differently
from what he had planned.
"All' he don't care about you—like
that? he n ketl after a pause.
"No, not In t hat way." She was anx
ious to defend the pastor from even the
thought of such a thing. "He was
good and kind always, but he didn't
care that way. He's.no.t like that."
"I guess I'll have a talk with him,"
said Jliu, and he turned to go.
"Talk!" she cried.
He stopped aud looked at her in
astonishment. It was the first time
that he hud ever heard that sharp note
iti her voice. Jlor tiny figure was
stiffened with decision. Her eyes were
biasing.
"If you ever dare to speak to him—
about uie, jsmi'U never see me ngaln."
Jim was perplexed.
"I mean It, Jim. I.'ve made my
choice, and I've oome back to you. If
you ever try to fix up tilings between
him and me, I'll run away—really and
truly away—and you'll never, never get
me back."
He shuffled awkwardly to her side
ami reached apologetically for the lit
tle clinched fist. He held It fn his big
rough hand, toying nervously with the
tiny fingers.
"1 wouldn't do nothln' that you
wasn't a-wantln', Poll. I was Just
a-tryln' to help you, only h-I never
seein to know how."
She turned to him with tear dimmed
eyes and rested her hands on his great,
broad shoulders, and he saw the place
where he dwelt In her heart.
• -- A _vj
«YOU TALK Alto IT YOUH MOTJIKH! IVII V, SIIK't) lIK ASH AM tilt
■ S/ TO uivx von."
CHAPTER XIV.
"leap of death" Implements
were being carried from tlie
ring and Jim turned away to
superintend their loading.
Performers again rushed by each
other on their way to and f%m the
main tent
Polly stoed In (he center of the lot,
frowning nnd anxious. The mere men
tion of the pastor's najrie had made it
seem Impossible** for her to ride to
night. For hours she had been -whip
ping herself up to the point of doing
It, and now her courage failed her.
She followed Barker as he came from
the ring.
"Mr. Barker, please!"
He turned upon her sharply.
( "Well, what Is it now?"
"I want to ask you to let me off
again tonight." She spoke In a short.
Jerky, desperate way.
"What!" he shrieked. "Not go Into
the ring, with all them people inside
what's paid their money because they
knowed you J"
"That's it!" she cried. "I can'tt I
can't!"
"You're gettln' too tony!" Barker
sneered. "T hat's the trouble with you.
You ain't boen good for nothin' since
you was at that parson's house. You.
dJila't t Vre. ami tmilre-uu-use
i Gere. First thing you know you'll b#
i ont all round." •
"Out?"
"Sure. Yon don't think I'm goto' to
head my hill with a 'dead one,' do
you?"
"I am not a 'dead one,'" she answer'
| ed excitedly. "I'm the best ride*
you've had since mother died. You're'
anld so yourself."
"That was afore you got In Wltll
them church cranks. You talk about
1 your mother! Why, she'd be ashamed
to own you."
"Slie wouldn't!" cried Polly. Her
eyes (lashing; her face waa scar*
let. The pride of hundreds of years of
1 ancestry was quivering with Indigo*
1 tlon. "I can ride as well as I erer
could, and I'll do It too. I'll do it Ub
Eaorrow."
! "Tomorrow?" echoed Rarker. "What
do yQU mean by that?"
"I mean that I can't go Into that
1 ring tonight," she declared, "and I
won't."
She waj desperate now and trading
' upon a Rtrength beyond her own.
lie looked at her with momentary in
decision. She was a good rider, th»
best since hor mother, as he had often
told her. lie could see this meant an
issue. He felt she would he on her
! mettle tomorrow, as far as her work
was concerned. If he let her alon*
tonight
? "All right." he said sullenly. "You
1 i can stay off tonight. I got the crowd
* in there anyway, and I got tljeir
Bioney. I'll let Nlolse do a turn on
fbirbarlan, but tomorrow you'd better
show me your old act."
"I'll show you!" she cried. "I'D
1 show you!"
' | "Well, see that you do." He croeaed
- Into the ring
* I roily stood where Rarker had left
- her, while and tense. Jim came toward
her from the direction of file wagona.
- He glanced at her uneasily. "What'»
he been a-sayln' to you?"
"lie says I can't ride any more."
7 Iler lips closed tbihtiy. She stared
f | straluht ahead of her. "He says I waa
I no good to the people that took me in
1 and I'm no use here."
t "It's not so!" thundered Jim.
"No, It's not!" she cried. "I'll show
i>' him, Jim! I'll show him—tomorrow!**
- She turned toward the dressing tent,
u Jim caught her firmly by the wrist.
0 "Wait, Poll! You ain't ever goin'
Into the ting a-feelln' that way." Her
ii eyes met his defiantly.
t "What's the difference? What'a the
r difference?" She wrenched her wrist
quickly from him and ran Into the
j dressing tent, laughing hysterically.
t t "An' I brung her back to it," muitt-
P bled Jim as he turned to give order*
to_the proper!£ men,.
Most of the "rrrsi narr props" were
 loaded, find Bomo of the men were
• I asleep under the wagons. The lot was
> ; clear. (Suddenly he felt some oue ap
proaching from the hack of the ln
i j closure. ' He turned and found himself
■ ' face to faco with the stem, solitary
figure of the pastor, wrapped In his
loni? black .cloak. The moonlight
slipped through a 1 rift In the clouds
L and fell into a circle around them.
"What made you come here?" was
- ! all Jim said.
! i "I heard that Miss Polly didn't ride H0
today. I was afraid she might be 111."
(Continued tm-pngy - * ij
| . • , H
Tortured 0n A Horse.
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fallible for Piles, Burns, Scalds,
Cuts, Boils, Fever Sores, Eczema,
Salt Rheum, Corns. 25c. Guaran- 1
j teed by all druggists.