Part 12 (1/2)

So she turned 'er back on 'er father's 'ome and went to the little one Tom made for 'er in Baltimore. She never even wrote to 'er father after that, and she won't ever go back, no matter wot 'appens. Not even if he sends for and forgives 'er, I believe. She's stood it this long, she'll stick it out. Mr. Portman got married right enough and I understand he's 'ad a 'ell of a time of it ever since. Married a reg'lar tartar, thank G.o.d.

”Well, in a year Christine came. After a couple of years they went to England and the Continent, where Brad rode for several seasons very successful. When Christine was seven, he insisted that she should work with 'im in the ring. He 'ad 'is way. They made a sensation with Van Slye's show and stuck to 'im for six years straight, allus drawing good pay. Mary went with them everywhere, never missing a performance, allus scairt to death on account of the gal. I think nearly all of the last five years of her life 'ave been spent in wis.h.i.+ng that Tom would fall off and break 'is own neck, but he couldn't do it very well without breakin' the kid's, too, so she didn't know wot to do. Then he got to drinking so 'ard that he did fall off, 'urting 'imself purty bad. After that he give it up, buying a share in Van Slye's show, and letting Christine do 'er work with Tom Sacks. Mrs. Braddock would give anything she's got in the world if she could get Christine out of the business and settled down in their own 'ome in Baltimore. Just to show you wot drink does for Brad, he pays Christine a good salary every week for riding and then insists on taking it back so's he can put it in the savings bank for 'er. He spends every penny of it for drink and he--”

”s.h.!.+” came in a warning hiss from Ruby Noakes, whose quick, black eyes had caught sight of a figure approaching from the big top. ”Mrs.

Braddock is coming, dad. My, how white she is.”

The proprietor's wife moved slowly, even listlessly. Something vital had gone out of her face, it seemed to David, who knew her only as a strong, courageous defender. A wan smile crept into her tired eyes as she carne up to them and asked if she might sit down at their board.

The hand she laid caressingly on Ruby's shoulder shook as if with ague.

”Jerk up a keester for Mrs. Braddock, Casey,” cried old Joey with alacrity. The contortionist found a small trunk and placed it between Ruby Noakes and David. Mrs. Braddock thanked him and sat down.

”Have you had your supper, Mrs. Braddock?” asked Ruby.

”I am not hungry,” said the other quietly. ”A cup of coffee, though, if you have enough for me without robbing yourselves. You work so hard, you know, my dears, while I am utterly without an occupation. I don't need much, do I?”

”You need a snifter of brandy,” announced Joey conclusively. He went off to get it.

Ruby rinsed her own tin-cup and poured out some hot coffee. Casey called up a boy and sent off to the performer's cook top for a pitcher of soup, some corned beef and potatoes, ignoring her protests.

”And how is the new clown faring?” she asked, turning to the silent David with a smile.

”Very well, thank you,” he replied. ”I have been very hungry, you know.

I have never known food to taste so good.”

”The hotels in these towns are atrocious. I can't eat the food,” she explained listlessly.

Joey handed her a drink from his flask. She swallowed it obediently but with evident distaste. There was a long, somewhat painful silence.

”I think it's started to sprinkle again,” ventured the contortionist, looking at the top with uneasy eyes.

”Yes,” she said appreciatively, ”it means another wretched night for us.” She toyed with the tin-cup with nervous fingers for a moment and then turned to the expectant Grinaldi. ”We have been obliged to borrow more money, Joey.”

”So?” he said, nodding his head dumbly.

”Five thousand dollars. I--I signed the note with Tom. Oh, if we could only have a spell of good weather!” It was an actual wail of despair.

”It's bound to come,” said the clown. ”It can't rain allus, Mrs.

Braddock.”

Again there was silence. The three performers were absolutely dumb in the presence of her unspoken misery.

”Would my money be of any service to you?” asked David at last, timidly.

”You dear boy, no!” she cried warmly. ”You do not understand. This is our affair, David. You are very, very good, but--” She checked the words resolutely. ”We can lift the notes handily if the weather helps us just a little bit.”

”I don't like that man,” announced the boy, his dark eyes gleaming.

The others coughed uncomfortably. Mrs. Braddock hesitated for a second, and then laid her hand on his.

”He is a very bad man, David,” was all that she said. He would have blurted out an additional expression of hatred had she not lifted her finger imperatively. ”You must not say indiscreet things, my friend.”