SIX PASSES
Mrs. Larue laughed and said she thought that even if they missed the
next ride, it would not be a serious matter.
"I see a number of comfortable benches over there in the shade,"
she announced, "and they look as though they had been placed there
especially for patient parents. We'll go over there and wait for you."
The entrancing music grew slower, the platform of prancing beasts began
to revolve more slowly and at last stopped. There was a wild scramble
of children to get on their favorite mounts.
"I want the giraffe!" cried Jess, who never rode anything else.
"I like a lion!" this from Ward.
Polly and Fred chose cream-colored horses and Artie was delighted with
an elephant while Margy climbed into a red plush car and sat on the
high seat like a queen in a gondola.
With a suddenness that made Mrs. Marley jump, the music started, the
merry-go-round began to move, and the blissful ride was well under way.
When the music stopped, Jess took another giraffe, on the outside of
the platform this time, Ward deserted his lion for a friendly-looking
bear and Fred and Polly tried the zebras. Artie stuck to his elephant
and Margy refused to budge from her car, though the others urged her to
ride an animal.
"It's lots more fun than that silly old car," said Fred, with brotherly
disapproval.
"I like it here," Margy retorted.
When the second ride was over, they trooped off. Margy pulled Polly
aside as they were walking over to the benches where the mothers were
waiting.
"Polly, look!" said Margy.
She held out her little pink hand, palm up, and there twinkled a ring
with two white stones.
"Diamonds!" Polly said. "Where did you get that?"
"I found it," explained Margy. "You know when I sit on a sofa or in a
stuffed chair, I run my fingers down along the edges of the seat. I
don't even know when I do it--I just do, that's all. And that's what I
did in that car on the merry-go-round. And I felt something hard and
pulled out this."
As soon as Margy showed the ring to her mother, Mrs. Williamson
declared that some one must have lost it.
"We'll hunt up the man in charge of the merry-go-round and he will know
if any inquiries have been made," she said.
"You don't want a parade following you," Mrs. Larue declared; "so the
rest of us will wait here for you."
"Let Polly and Jess come," begged Margy. But Mrs. Marley said that was
too many; so Mrs. Williamson and Margy went in search of the man who
was in charge of the merry-go-round.
They found him--after some questioning--in a queer little cubbyhole
so surrounded by odds and ends of lumber and tent rigging and paint
pots that Margy wondered how he ever got in or out of his tiny office
without breaking his neck.
Mrs. Williamson explained that her little girl had found a ring in one
of the cars on the merry-go-round. She had hardly explained, before the
manager was greatly excited.
"You don't say!" he cried in a hoarse voice. "So that's where it was!
A lady lost it last night and she's offered a reward of a hundred
dollars. Has the ring got two diamonds, ma'am? Yes, that's it. Then
your little girl gets the money."
"Oh, she doesn't want any money for finding the ring," Mrs. Williamson
said quickly. "She's only too glad to return it to the owner. No, we
won't leave any name or address. That isn't necessary either."
The manager tugged at his mustache and seemed distressed.
"I wish you'd let me do something for you, ma'am," he said wistfully.
"If you don't want the little girl to take the money, how about a pass?
I own most of this show and I'll write her out a pass in a minute that
will take her into most anything she wants to see."
Mrs. Williamson laughed and explained that Margy was one of a party of
six children who had come to the carnival.
"That's all right--I'll be glad to give 'em all passes," said the
manager heartily. "You say the word and these kids can have the run of
the show. We've got as fine a side show over on the other lot as you'll
see in the best circus going."
He was so anxious to do something for Margy that Mrs. Williamson did
not want to decline the passes. So she said that the children would be
delighted, and within a few moments Margy had six bright-colored bits
of pasteboards that would, the manager told her, "let her in free" to
any of the carnival attractions.
"And don't miss the side show, or you'll always regret it," he finished
earnestly.
Mrs. Williamson and Margy went back to the rest of their party, and
maybe those children's eyes didn't pop out when Margy showed them the
passes and explained what they meant.
"Can you get ice cream cones with 'em?" Ward wanted to know.
"Are they good for any time?" demanded Fred. "Then, let's come every
day and see something different."
Mrs. Williamson laughed and shook her head.
"Make the most of your fun while you're here," she said warningly.
"This is positively the last trip we'll make. Besides, Fred, these
traveling carnivals seldom stay long in one place. The whole thing may
move on to-morrow."
"What do you want to do, Polly?" Margy asked.
"I'd perfectly love to have my fortune told," said Polly, her eyes
dancing.
"But maybe nobody tells fortunes," Margy objected.
"Oh, you'll find that in the side show," Mrs. Larue interposed. "I
never yet saw a good side show that didn't reveal a fine future for
any curious person who asked."
"Goodness, he said we mustn't miss it, either," said Margy eagerly.
"The side show, I mean. We'll always regret it, if we do."
"Probably," agreed Mrs. Larue. "But I think any one over sixteen who
does see a side show regrets it. I think we can wait here for you in
this quiet, shady place."
"I think so, too," Mrs. Marley said. "The children will be all
right--there isn't a large crowd and they all seem to be nice people.
So if you'll promise to keep together and not get lost you may
investigate this wonderful side show and then come back and tell us
everything you see."
Margy gave each child a pass, and they set gayly out for the side show.
The manager had said it was on "the other lot," and they found this to
mean a lot across the road from the one where the merry-go-round was
put up. On the way Ward saw a peanut and popcorn stand, and he could
not resist trying the magic of his pasteboard.
"Could I have some peanuts--I mean buy them with this?" he asked the
little fat man behind the stand.
"Sure! A quart enough?" was the answer, and Ward managed to say he
thought a quart would be enough.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" asked the man, as Ward took the bag
of peanuts and started to walk away. "Fifteen cents, young feller."
"But I have a pass," Ward said, his face scarlet. "I showed it to you
and you said it was all right."
"I thought it was a dollar bill," declared the fat man. "What's a pass
to me? I don't care if the manager did give it to you, he doesn't own
my peanuts and popcorn. I pay him rent for this stand, and what I sell
is my own. See?"
Ward never, by any chance, having a cent in his pockets, Fred paid for
the peanuts and as several people had stopped to listen, Ward was glad
to get away.
"I'm awfully sorry, Ward," Margy apologized, feeling she was
responsible for the fat boy's trouble. "I thought he said it was good
for everything."
"Refreshment stands are different, I guess," said Jess. "I don't
believe you can ever get anything to eat on a pass. Here's the place to
have your fortune told, Polly."
Polly looked eagerly. She saw a black tent, the front plastered with
queer signs cut out of red cloth. Suns and stars and moons were freely
sprinkled over the sides of the tent, too. The signs on the front
flaps were the zodiac signs, though Polly did not know that.
"I don't believe you can go in on a pass," said Ward. "You'd better not
try."
Boys are seldom as eager to have their fortunes told as girls, for some
reason, and Fred and Artie declared that nothing would induce them to
go in and see "Madame Zelda Orlando," who would, so her announcement
said, "read your past, present and future for fifty cents."
"Huh, I know my past and the present is what is happening to me right
now," Artie sniffed. "And I can get along without the future till it
happens."
But Polly and Margy and Jess were filled with curiosity and they held
out their yellow, blue and white passes to the strange turbaned man who
stood on guard at the tent door.
"Enter!" he said, and held back the mysterious curtain.
Polly gave one startled backward glance at the boys and went in,
followed by Jess and Margy. The turbaned guard dropped the curtain back
into place.
"Say, I didn't think they could get in on their passes," said Fred. "I
wonder if we ought to have gone in with them."
"They're all right," Ward declared carelessly. "Come on and let's see
the snakes while we're waiting."
"No, we said we'd keep together and we'll stay right here," said Fred
firmly. "The girls will want to see the snakes, too. I don't suppose it
takes very long to tell your past and present and future."
Madame Orlando evidently agreed with Fred, for in less than fifteen
minutes Polly and Jess and Margy came out. Madame had read their palms,
they said, and she said that good fortune awaited them all through life.
"I could have said that," complained Ward. "Hurry up and let's see the
snakes. They're over here."
Their passes admitted them into the inky darkness of the snake tent
where the reptiles, in glass tanks, writhed back and forth in the glare
of electric lights turned full upon them.
"Wait a minute, I dropped my pass," whispered Ward.
The next moment a woman began to shriek and to jump up and down and
wring her hands.