ry few
days and scrubbed.

He was watching the men do this now, as he made it a practice to be on
hand when this work was done. The men might grow careless and let one
of the big pieces slip, which would mean breakage.

"Going to try something new?" asked Helen, as she passed near Joe where
he sat on an empty barrel. Helen carried her riding habit over her arm,
having taken it out of her trunk.

"No, just having the tank cleaned," Joe answered. "I wish I could get
something new, though. What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Can't you sit
down and have a chat?"

"No, I'm going to get Mrs. Watson to help me make a little change in
this habit. I want to put on some new ornaments."

Mrs. Watson, the wife of the aged clown, was a sort of mother to all
the circus folk. She mended the men's socks, and was always ready to
sew up a rent in some distracted woman performer's costume. Mrs. Watson
had been a bare-back rider, but increasing age and accumulated flesh
had made it necessary for her to give up the work. She now traveled
with her husband.

"Joe," began Helen, and she seemed somewhat embarrassed, "I want to ask
you something, and I hope you won't be offended."

Joe looked up quickly.

"Offended?" he asked. "You know you couldn't offend me, Helen."

"Oh, I don't know," and her voice was more serious than her manner. "I
can't tell how you'll take it. Do you remember the other day saying
something about not being able to afford a fur coat?"

"Yes, of course I do. Have you bought yours yet?"

"No, but I've ordered it. But what I want to know is, Joe, why you
don't get one, as long as you want it."

"And you thought that question would annoy me? That's queer. I don't
get one simply because I can't afford it."

"I haven't yet asked you the question I fear may annoy you," went on
Helen. "But this is it, Joe. I know you are getting a good salary, for
you told me so. And if you are, what are you doing with it? I--I--this
is what I want to ask you, Joe--you're not--not gambling with it--are
you?"

She blushed vividly as she made this inquiry.

Joe glanced at the girl curiously. There was a strange look on his
face.

"Gambling!" repeated Joe. The men, carrying one of the cleaned glass
plates, had moved away.

"Yes," went on Helen. "I feared, when you said you had no money to
spare, even with the good salary you are getting, that perhaps you
might be wasting it on cards."

Joe shook his head.

"I haven't any us