ly Mrs. Horan
seated on a huge egg drawn by ostriches.

Once only they circled the sawdust ring; then the band stopped, the
last of the procession disappeared, the clown came shrieking and
tumbling out into the arena with his "Here we are again!"

And the show was on.

I stood in the shadow of the stable-tent, dressed in my frock-coat,
white stock, white cords, and hunting-boots, sullen, imbittered, red
with a false shame that better men than I have weakened under, almost
desperate in my humiliation, almost ready to end it all there among
those tawny, restless brutes pacing behind the bars at my elbow,
watching me stealthily with luminous eyes.

She knew what I was--but that she could come to see with her own eyes
I could not understand, I could not forgive. Speed's senseless words
rang in my ears--"She cares for you!" But I knew they were
meaningless, I knew she could not care for me. What fools' paradise
would he have me enter? What did he know of this woman whom I knew and
understood--whom I honored for her tenderness and pity to all who
suffered--who I knew counted me as one among a multitude of unhappy
failures whom her kindness and sympathy might aid.

Because she had, in her gracious ignorance, given me a young girl's
impulsive friendship, was I to mistake her? What could Speed know of
her--of her creed, her ideals, her calm, passionless desire to help
where help was needed--anywhere--in the palace, in the faubourgs, in
the wretched chaumieres, in the slums? It was all one to her--to this
young girl whose tender heart, bruised by her own sad life, opened to
all on whom the evil days had dawned.

And yet she had come here--and that was cruel; and she was not cruel.
Could she know that I had a shred of pride left--one little, ragged
thread of pride left in me--that she should come to see me do my
mountebank tricks to the applause of a greasy throng?

No, she had not thought of that, else she would have stayed away; for
she was kind, above all else--generous and kind.

Speed passed me in ring-master's dress; there came the hollow thud of
hoofs as Mrs. Grigg galloped into the ring on her white mare, gauze
skirts fluttering, whip raised; and, "Hoop-la!" squealed the clown as
his pretty little wife went careering around and around the tan-bark,
leaping through paper-hoops, over hurdles, while the band played
frantically and the Bretons shouted in an ecstasy of excitement.

Then Grigg mounted his little trick