ubdue the sad
brilliancy of her dark-blue eyes, fixed inward upon her own sad state,
unregardful of the company. She made an indefinite murmur of response
to the salutations given her, and then retreated. She heard the roar of
laughter after she had squeezed through the door of her room. Then she
heard eager conversation, of which she did not catch the real import,
but which terrified her with chance expressions. She was quite sure that
she was the subject of that eager discussion. She was quite sure that it
boded her no good.

In a few days she knew the worst; and the worst was beyond her utmost
imaginings. This was before the days of moving-picture shows; it was
the day of humiliating spectacles of deformities, when inventions
of amusements for the people had not progressed. It was the day of
exhibitions of sad freaks of nature, calculated to provoke tears rather
than laughter in the healthy-minded, and poor Margaret Lee was a chosen
victim. Camille informed her in a few words of her fate. Camille was
sorry for her, although not in the least understanding why she was
sorry. She realized dimly that Margaret would be distressed, but she
was unable from her narrow point of view to comprehend fully the whole
tragedy.

"Jack has gone broke," stated Camille. "He owes Bill Stark a pile, and
he can't pay a cent of it; and Jack's sense of honor about a poker debt
is about the biggest thing in his character. Jack has got to pay. And
Bill has a little circus, going to travel all summer, and he's offered
big money for you. Jack can pay Bill what he owes him, and we'll have
enough to live on, and have lots of fun going around. You hadn't ought
to make a fuss about it."

Margaret, pale as death, stared at the girl, pertly slim, and common and
pretty, who stared back laughingly, although still with the glimmer of
uncomprehending pity in her black eyes.

"What does--he--want--me--for?" gasped Margaret.

"For a show, because you are so big," replied Camille. "You will make us
all rich, Margaret. Ain't it nice?"

Then Camille screamed, the shrill raucous scream of the women of her
type, for Margaret had fallen back in a dead faint, her immense bulk
inert in her chair. Jack came running in alarm. Margaret had suddenly
gained value in his shrewd eyes. He was as pale as she.

Finally Margaret raised her head, opened her miserable eyes, and
regained her consciousness of herself and what lay before her. There was
no course open but