d apologise. He was very proud, was Bingo, and very
conscientious. He felt uneasy when he saw the other horses going to
their work without him.

"Never mind, Bingo," she said, patting his great, arched neck, "we'll
show 'em to-morrow." He rubbed his satiny nose against her cheek. "We'll
make them SIT UP again. Barker says our act's no good--that I've let
down. But it's not YOUR fault, Bingo. I've not been fair to you. I'll
give you a chance to-morrow. You wait. He'll never say it again, Bingo!
Never again!" She watched him go out of the lot, and laughed a little as
he nipped the attendant on the arm. He was still irritated at not going
into the ring.

Polly had nothing more to do to-night except to get into her street
clothes. The wagons would soon be moving away. For a moment she glanced
at the dark church steeple, then she turned to go inside the tent. A
deep, familiar voice stopped her.

"Polly!"

She turned quickly. She could not answer. Douglas came toward her. He
gazed at her in amazement. She drew her cape about her slightly clad
figure. She seemed older to him, more unapproachable with her hair
heaped high and sparkling with jewels. Her bodice of satin and lace
shimmered through the opening of her cape. The moonlight lent mystery
and indecision to her betinselled attire. The band was playing the
andante for the balancing act.

She found strength at last to open her lips, but still no sound came
from them. She and the pastor looked at each other strangely, like
spirits newly met from far-apart worlds. She, too, thought her companion
changed. He was older, the circles beneath his eyes were deeper, the
look in their depths more grave.

"We were such close neighbours to-day, I--I rather thought you'd call,"
he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying--it did not matter--he
was there with her.

"When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling."

"That's why I've come to call on you." They might have been sheppherd
and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which their
words came.

"You're all right?" he went on. "You're happy?"

"Yes, very," she said. Her eyes were downcast.

He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white face
belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her?

"Jim said you might not want to see me."

She started.

"Has Jim been talking to you?"

"Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you left
that you