politely.

"No, I'm just down for a few days," replied Hanson genially. He had
drawn a chair up and seated himself on the other side of the table,
directly opposite Mrs. Gallito and her daughter.

The surprise of the glance she threw at him was heightened by a quick
curiosity. "Just prospecting?" she asked. "I saw at once that you
weren't a 'lunger.' I didn't think you were an engineer, so I made up my
mind that you were looking for land."

"None of them," returned Hanson, smiling, and hastened to inform her of
his real calling. Immediately she relaxed, her smile became genuine, the
bored and constrained politeness vanished from her manner.

"Well, that is certainly nice," she exclaimed with real animation and
cordiality. "I'm always glad to meet any of the profession. No folks
like your own folks, you know." She bridled a little.

"That's so," agreed Hanson heartily. "I knew the minute that I saw you
that you belonged."

She lifted her head with a gesture of pride, the glow and color came
back into her face, giving it a transitory appearance of youth, and
restoring, for a fugitive moment, something of its vanishing beauty.

"Born to it," she said. "My mother and her mother, and my father and his
father, and, 'way back on both sides, was all circus people. Yes, I was
born in the sawdust--rode--drove--tight-rope--trapeze--learned dancing
on the side--ambitious, you know. Say, you must have heard of my
mother--greatest bare-back rider ever in the ring. Isobel Montmorenci.
English, you know. I wasn't so shy myself, Queenie Madrew."

"Gee! Well, you were some. Shake." Hanson extended his hand, which Mrs.
Gallito shook warmly. "And I do remember your mother. I should say so.
First time I went to the circus, I was about ten years old--ran off you
know. Knew well enough what I'd get when I turned up at home. Pop laying
for me with a strap. Goodness! It takes me right back. It's all a kind
of jumble, sawdust ring and animals and clowns and all; but what I do
remember plain is Isobel Montmorenci, her and a big black horse she was
riding."

"Caesar!" cried Mrs. Gallito excitedly. "Lord! don't I remember! I
learned to ride on him."

"Yes," mused the manager, "all I recall of that circus is her and my two
nickels. I broke my bank to get 'em. They seemed a fortune to me; but
even then I was a shrewd kid and meant to get my money's worth.
Well--the first one I laid out in a great tall glass of lemonade. Say,
that was the