THE ALICE IN WONDERLAND CIRCUS
The Alice in Wonderland Circus went down in the annals of Overton as the
most original "stunt" ever attempted by any particular class. 19-- bore
its honors modestly, but was inordinately proud of the achievement of
the Semper Fidelis Club.
The animals' costumes had been designed by Ruth and Elfreda. After much
poring over half a dozen editions of "Alice," the original illustrations
by "John Tenniel" had appealed most strongly to them, and these had been
copied as faithfully as possible in style and color. The only important
dry goods store in Overton had been ransacked for colored cambrics,
denim and khaki, and under the clever fingers of Ruth, who seemed to
know the exact shape and proportion of every one of the Wonderland
"animals," the Dormouse, the Griffon and the Rabbit had been fitted with
"skins." Elfreda had skilfully designed and made the Mock Turtle's huge
shell and flappers, the Griffon's wings, not to mention ears for at
least half the circus, and Gertrude Wells, whose clever posters were
always in demand, obligingly painted bars, dots, stripes or whatever
touch was needed to make the particular animal a triumph of realism. The
King and Queen looked as though they might have stepped from the pages
of the book, and the Duchess, as played by Anne, was a masterpiece of
acting.
The circus opened with a grand march of the animals. Then followed the
"Mad Hatter Quadrille," called by the Mad Hatter and danced by the March
Hare, the Dormouse, the Rabbit, the Griffon, the Mock Turtle, the Dodo,
the Duchess and Alice. Then the Mad Hatter stepped to the center of the
ring, flourished his high hat, bowed profoundly, and made a funny little
speech about the accomplishments of the animals, each one walking
solemnly into the middle of the ring as his name was called and clumsily
saluting the audience.
Then the real circus began. The Dormouse skipped the rope, the Rabbit
balanced a plate on his nose, the Griffon, with a great flapping of
wings, laboriously climbed a ladder and jumped from the top rung to the
ground, a matter of about six feet, where he bowed pompously and waved
his long claws to the audience. Then the Mock Turtle sang "Beautiful
Soup," and wept so profusely he toppled over at the end of the song and
lay flopping on his back. The Mad Hatter and the Griffon hastily raised
him only to find he had made a dreadful dent in his shell. This did not
hinder him from joining his friend, the Griffon, in "Won't You Join the
Dance?" which stately caper they performed around Alice, while the other
animals stood in a circle and marked time with their feet, solemnly
waving their paws and wagging their heads in unison.
The Cheshire Cat, who had a real Chessy Cat head which Gertrude Wells
had manufactured and painted, and who wore Arline's long squirrel coat
with a squirrel scarf trailing behind for a tail, executed a dance of
quaint steps and low bows. The Dodo jumped or rather walked through
three paper hoops, which had to be lowered to admit his chubby person.
The King and Queen gave a dialogue, every other line of which was "Off
with her head," and the Mad Hatter performed an eccentric dance
consisting of marvelous leaps and bounds that took him from one side of
the ring to the other with amazing rapidity. When he made his bow the
audience shouted with laughter and encored wildly, but with a last
nimble skip the panting Hatter made for the Griffon's ladder and,
seating himself upon it, refused to respond beyond a nod and a careless
wave of his hand. Later he left his perch and proceeded to convulse his
audience by sitting on his tall hat and taking a bite from his teacup,
the three-cornered bite having been carefully removed beforehand and
held temporarily in place with library paste until the proper moment.
As the Mad Hatter, Elfreda was entirely in her element. Her unusually
keen sense of humor prompted her to make her impersonation of the
immortal Hatter one long to be remembered by those who witnessed the
performance given by the famous animals. She was without doubt the
feature of the circus and the spectators were quick to note and applaud
her slightest movement.
The circus ended with an all-around acrobatic exhibition. The Dodo
performed on the trapeze. The Mock Turtle and the Cheshire Cat took
turns on a diminutive springboard. The March Hare and the Dormouse
energetically jumped over a small barrel. The Queen and the Duchess had
a fencing match, the Queen using her sceptre, the Duchess the rag baby
she carried, and to which she had sung the "Pepper Song" at intervals
during the performance. The King tossed four colored balls into the air,
keeping them in motion at once. The Rabbit went on balancing his plate
until it slid off his nose, but being tin it struck the ring without
breaking. The Griffon lumbered up and down his ladder, while the King
and Alice, stepping down to the front of the ring, sang their great
duet, "Come, Learn the Way to Wonderland," while, one by one, the
animals left off performing their stunts and, surrounding Alice and the
King, came out strongly on the chorus:
"Come, learn the way to Wonderland.
None of the grown folks understand
Just where it lies,
Hid from their eyes.
'Tis an enchanted strand
Where the Hare and the Hatter dance in glee,
Where curious beasts sit down to tea,
Where the Mock Turtle sings
And the Griffon has wings,
In curious Wonderland."
After the animals had romped out of the ring, and romped in again to
take an encore, the audience, who had occupied every reserved seat in
the gallery opposite the ring, and packed every available inch of
standing room there, came downstairs, while those who had stayed
downstairs and peered over one another's shoulders, made a rush for the
reserved seat ticket window. Mr. Redfield, the old gentleman who had
contributed so liberally to the Semper Fidelis Club, chuckled gleefully
over the circus and put in a request that it be given again at the next
public entertainment under the auspices of the club.
The second performance was given toward the close of the afternoon, and
was even more enthusiastically received. None of the performers left the
gymnasium for dinner that night. They preferred to satisfy their hunger
at the various booths.
"Oh, there goes Emma," laughed Grace, as late that evening she caught a
glimpse of the Egyptian mystery parading majestically down the room
ahead of her, then stopping at the Japanese booth to exchange a word
with the giggling Emerson twins, who thought the Sphinx the greatest
joke imaginable.
A little later as Grace was about to return to the gypsy camp she heard
a sudden swish of draperies behind her. Glancing hastily about, she
laughed as she saw the Sphinx's unwieldy head towering above her.
"Oh, Great and Wonderful Mystery--" began Grace.
But Emma answered almost crossly: "Don't 'Great and Wonderful Mystery'
me. This head is becoming a dead weight, and I'm thirsty and tired, and,
besides, something disagreeable just happened."
"What was it?" asked Grace unthinkingly. Then, "I beg your pardon, Emma,
I didn't realize the rudeness of my question. Pretend you didn't hear
what I said."
"Oh, that is all right," responded Emma laconically. "I don't mind
telling you if you will promise on your honor as a junior not to tell a
soul."
"I promise," agreed Grace.
"It's about that West person," began Emma disgustedly. "I overheard a
conversation between her and her two friends to-night. How did she
become so friendly with Alberta Wicks and Mary Hampton? They addressed
one another by their first names as though on terms of greatest
familiarity."
"I don't know, I am sure," answered Grace slowly. "I seldom see either
Miss Wicks or Miss Hampton. When they lived at Stuart Hall I used
frequently to pass them on the campus, but since they have been living
at Wellington House I rarely, if ever, see either of them. It is just as
well, I suppose."
"Thank goodness, this is their last year here," muttered Emma. "We shall
have peace during our senior year at least, unless some other disturber
appears on the scene."
"Why, Emma Dean!" exclaimed Grace, "what is the matter with you
to-night? You aren't a bit like your usual self."
"Then, I'm a successful Sphinx," retorted Emma satirically.
"Of course you are," smiled Grace. "But you can be a successful Sphinx
and be yourself, too. But you haven't yet told me anything."
"I'm coming to the information part now," went on Emma. "About an hour
ago, while the circus was in full swing, I slipped out of my Sphinx rig
and, asking Helen to watch it,--she is made up as the Arab, you know,--I
went for a walk around the bazaar. I was sure no one knew that I was the
Sphinx, and the Sphinx was I, for I hadn't told a soul except the club
girls and Helen. You know I've been purposely taking occasional walks
about the gymnasium as Emma Dean. I went over to the Japanese booth for
some tea, and while I was drinking it the circus ended and the girls
began to pile into the garden for tea. All of a sudden I heard some one
say, 'Why didn't you bring your Sphinx costume along, Miss Dean?' It was
that horrid little West girl who spoke. Her voice carried, too, for
every one in the garden heard her, and they all pounced upon me at once.
It made me so angry I rushed out without waiting for my tea, and inside
of five minutes the news had circled the gym, and the Sphinx had ceased
to be the world's great mystery. I got into the costume again, but the
fun was gone. I didn't answer any more questions and I didn't do my
dance. I was looking for you to tell you that the Sphinx was about to
give up the ghost."
"How could Miss West be so spiteful?" asked Grace vexedly. "Where do you
suppose she heard the news, and who told her? You don't suppose--" Grace
stopped abruptly. A sudden suspicion had seized her.
"Don't suppose what?" interrogated Emma sharply.
"Nothing," finished Grace shortly.
"Yes, you do suppose something," declared Emma. "I know just what you
are thinking. You believe as I do, that Miss West listened--"
"Don't say it, Emma!" exclaimed Grace. "We may both be wrong."
"Then you do believe----"
"I don't know," said Grace bravely. "I admit that suspicion points
toward Miss West, but until we know definitely, we must try to be
fair-minded. I have seen too much unhappiness result from misplaced
suspicion. I know of an instance where a girl was sent to Coventry by
her class for almost a year on the merest suspicion."
"Not here?" questioned Emma, her eyes expressing the surprise she felt
at this announcement.
"No," returned Grace soberly. There was finality in her "no."
"And the moral is, don't jump at conclusions," smiled Emma. "Come on
down to my lair while I remove my Sphinx-like garments and step forth as
plain Emma Dean. Don't look so sober, Grace. I've put my suspicions to
sleep. I'll give even Miss West the benefit of my doubt. I will even go
so far as to forgive her for spoiling my fun to-night. Now smile and
say, 'Emma, I always knew you to be the soul of magnanimity.'"
Grace laughed outright at this modest assertion, and obligingly repeated
the required words.
"Now that my reputation has been once more established, and because I
don't feel half so wrathful as I did ten minutes ago," declared Emma,
"let us lay the Sphinx peacefully to rest and do the bazaar arm in arm."