also had the
advantage in romance. An admirer who sighed hopelessly after you all
your life was still to Ellen the summit of desire. It was fortunate that
she could despise Alce so thoroughly in his person, or else she might
have found herself jealous of her sister.

They arrived at Sanger's in good time for the afternoon performance, and
their seats were the best in the tent. Alce, ever mindful of Joanna,
bought Ellen an orange and a bag of bull's-eyes. During the performance
he was too much engrossed to notice her much--the elephants, the clowns,
the lovely ladies, were as fresh and wonderful to him as to any child
present, though as a busy farmer he had long ago discarded such
entertainments and would not have gone to-day if it had not been for
Ellen, or rather for her sister. When the interval came, however, he had
time to notice his companion, and it seemed to him that she drooped.

"Are you feeling it hot in here?"

"Yes--it's very close."

He did not offer to take her out--it did not strike him that she could
want to leave.

"You haven't sucked your orange--that'll freshen you a bit."

Ellen looked at her orange.

"Let me peel it for you," said Alce, noticing her gloved hands.

"Thanks very much--but I can't eat it here; there's nowhere to put the
skin and pips."

"What about the floor? Reckon they sweep out the sawdust after each
performance."

"I'm sure I hope they do," said Ellen, whose next-door neighbour had
spat at intervals between his knees, "but really, I'd rather keep the
orange till I get home."

At that moment the ring-master came in to start the second half of the
entertainment, and Alce turned away from Ellen. He was unconscious of
her till the band played "God Save the King," and there was a great
scraping of feet as the audience turned to go out.

"We'll go and have a cup of tea," said Alce.

He took her into the refreshment tent, and blundered as far as offering
her a twopenny ice-cream at the ice-cream stall. He was beginning to
realize that she took her pleasures differently from most girls he knew;
he felt disappointed and ill at ease with her--it would be dreadful if
she went home and told Joanna she had not enjoyed herself.

"What would you like to do now?" he asked when they had emptied their
tea-cups and eaten their stale buns in the midst of a great steaming,
munching squash--"there's swings and stalls and a merry-go-round--and I
hear the Fat Lady's the biggest they've h