THE CIRCUS
The day was fine. Billy, not long released from his green shade,
wondered if the world was ever so lovely before; the flowers so
sweet, the birds so joyous. Could it be only a few short weeks since
that gray Sunday? Billy’s confinement had quickened him, introduced
him to himself; now he looked on life with wider eyes, with a more
understanding heart.
He was out early wheeling from house to house, where various parts
of the “show” were receiving last touches. One by one he gathered
each “attraction,” and herded them all to Jimmy’s big barn, where the
procession was to form. Some were late, Bess for one; but Billy was not
anxious about her.
It had been hard to persuade her, though her heart was aching to join
the fun. “Huh! Do you suppose I’d be a common snake-charmer?”
“Common?” Billy retorted, “they can’t be common. They have to have
power more’n anybody. And snake charmers ’most always are Egyptian
Princesses, or royalty of some kind,” he added hastily, lest exact Bess
should call on him for a genealogy of his princesses.
The magic name won the day. Bess was ever dreaming of the land of
mystery, whose pictured daughters of old she resembled; and the chance
to masquerade in its atmosphere lured her.
Max was the first to be quite ready with his exhibit. It was a queer
creature that one gradually discovered to be some sort of a bird;
though such a one had never before been seen on land or sea. Max had
arrayed his mother’s big white gander for the occasion. A turkey-tail
fan made a huge breastplate, if one can imagine a breastplate of
feathers. All the long-tailed roosters that had been killed in town
for months, one would guess, had contributed to the coat of sprawling
feathers that was tied over the body of the bird. And no one knew by
what magic the boy had coaxed some one to lend him the magnificent
peacock plumes that rose high above the little wiggling goose tail.
In a cage of wire netting bearing the legend, “The Roc--The Egg,” the
uncomfortable gander swayed and craned his neck; and all but his voice
was satisfactory. In the bottom of the cage a whitewashed stone the
size of a small pumpkin did duty as the egg.
A three-legged rooster appeared. And Sir Thomas Katzenstein, according
to schedule, roamed his box in great agitation, though in fine form,
impressively carrying out the label on his cage, “Baby Royal Bengal
Tiger.”
Lying in silent disdain on his familiar cushion, Flash, as the “Polar
Bear,” did equally well; while Bouncer fretted between the fills of
the home-made, bunting-draped chariot that served as “The Polar Bear’s
Snowy Lair of the North.”
There was a half-grown calf with an artificial hump for the “Water
Buffalo”; and Harry and Clarence were cunningly strapped together for
the Siamese Twins.
“But they are dead,” Jimmy protested.
“But couldn’t another pair have been born in Siam?” May Nell
questioned; and as no one felt sufficiently informed to deny it, Harry
and Clarence continued their strained relations.
The Prettymans’ white cow was ingeniously shaped and caparisoned to
represent “India’s Sacred White Elephant”; and Jackson was the Hindoo
leader. This exhibit caused much controversy. The attendant should ride
on the neck of the elephant, all agreed to that; but the cow objected;
so they compromised by having Jackson walk. The matter of costume
for Jackson was not so easily settled, as the differing pictures of
sacred elephants presented a variation in the attendants’ garb. May
Nell,--who was to be the “Fair Princess of Bombay,”--as soon as she
could get a hearing, ended the dispute amicably by suggesting that
Jackson be allowed his choice in the matter of dress, an alternative
that permitted each disputant to withdraw from the argument with honor.
Jimmy had the trick ponies and the trained dogs. Teaching them was the
chief joy of his life. What if there were only two ponies, and their
spots were painted on? And what if the children had seen all the tricks
over and over again? They were good as new each time. Besides, the
ponies’ one brand-new trick, when at the crack of a whip they stood
on their hind feet in unison, was so effective that it frightened May
Nell. She saw it first in the barn; and when their shod hoofs came down
she thought they would crash right through the floor.
Jean was the Goddess of Liberty; Shifty and another larger boy the
steeds that pulled her car. But boys and box wagon were so smothered in
bunting that only the Goddess was conspicuous, standing, well-balanced,
stately, and fair.
One tall, ambitious girl contributed a unique float called, “Lot’s
Wife Looking Backward.” She had not been certain of the color for the
desert, consequently had made the whole thing, including the wagon, the
boys, and herself snowy white. She had copied an old Bible picture,
carrying out the idea with sheets, and such liberal doses of flour,
that only a heavy dew was needed to turn the float to dough instead of
salt. However, the sun shone, and the addition of diamond dust over all
made a very realistic picture that Billy praised heartily.
Guinea pigs, pigeons, and other and larger live stock, normal or
otherwise, masqueraded as marvellous creatures from foreign lands.
Bess arrived at last. A gorgeous affair was her chariot, the foundation
being Mr. Prettyman’s spring wagon. Bess, with some borrowings,
Charley’s help, and her own quick invention, had made a very good
imitation of a circus wagon. Charley, the Strong Man, held the reins
over old Dom Pedro, the horse she loved, that had once been a racer.
She had discovered some very real looking, jointed snakes that wriggled
and curved in a manner startlingly serpentine; while tremendous boa
constrictors, cut from old circus posters, were disposed about the cage
in alarmingly lifelike positions.
Bess’s coming launched the procession. People in the vicinity who had
not before known of the presence of a circus, knew it now. Everybody
talked at once, and every living thing made its own kind of a noise.
Billy as Master of Ceremonies had his hands full, his voice full too,
one might say.
But at last they got under way and proceeded as quietly as possible
down the back street to the home of Mrs. Lancaster, where Buzz, as the
“Prize Baby of Vine County,” awaited them in his car, which was very
handsome,--one would never have dreamed it was only a large wash-tub
strapped to a coaster; flowers and cloth do make such wonderful changes
if handled with art!
That preliminary march was not without adventure. The “howdah” on the
White Elephant where May Nell rode as the Fair Princess of Bombay,
became loose and threatened to spill its small bit of royalty. And
when Harold cinched the thing tighter the old cow bellowed so the
smaller children broke and ran. However, they were soon back, and the
procession halted at Mrs. Lancaster’s front gate in fair order. But
when she saw the imposing string of wagons, children, and animals,
known and unknown, she was afraid to trust her precious Buzz to them.
“Billy Boy, it’s fine! It’s splendid! But it’s so big I’m afraid Buzz
will be scared.”
“Well, why don’t you go along, Mrs. Lancaster? Don’t prize babies have
attendants?”
“Surely; but--”
“Oh, please, Mrs. Lancaster,” Billy coaxed. “The circus won’t be any
circus at all without Buzz. We’re to have him for a side show after the
performance. We’ve advertised _him_,” Billy pleaded well.
“Well, the lack of Buzz shall not damage your show; I’ll go,” Mrs.
Lancaster yielded.
And Billy did not think of it as strange till Buzz’s grandmother called
from behind the window curtain, “Delia, you surely won’t traipse
through town with that crowd! How you will look!”
“Why, ma, the children are quite respectable; I know all their
mothers.” Buzz’s mamma looked a little mischievous.
“You romp!” came the disgusted voice once more. “You’d better cut your
hair, and your skirts, and be a child again.”
“I’d love to, Billy,” Mrs. Lancaster whispered; “I’ve never liked being
grown up.”
Billy beamed upon her. He adored her, as did every child in town.
Now the band came up, a troop of boys in gorgeous uniforms made of red
calico and tinsel paper. A drum and fife kept tolerable time; but the
wheezy harmonicas and paper-covered combs, the tin horns and clanging
triangles, quite “covered” any tune the fife attempted. Yet what
matter? It was a joyful noise; and even the horses kept step to the
valiant drum.
Flags waved. In spite of Billy all shouted orders at once. The line was
as serpentine as Bess’s snakes that she held high and wriggling above
her snake-entwined head. Oh, she was a very realistic snake charmer!
Buzz crowed and clapped his pudgy little hands; and the Lancasters’
small Chinese boy who pulled the baby’s car almost fell over himself
laughing.
Before they turned into Main Street, however, the procession was in
fair alignment, and the solemnity of the moment hushed all chatter.
Billy’s most personal disappointment was Bouncer, who, unhappy because
he could not caper in freedom at Billy’s heels, let his lovely, bushy
tail, that usually waved above his back in a graceful curve, hang limp
and dusty between his legs; while from drooping head and sad eyes, he
looked reproachfully at Billy every time the latter ran past.
But on the whole Billy was proud. “The kids showed their pluck and
stuck to their jobs,” he told his mother afterward. The White Elephant
bellowed impressively in front of the postoffice; and Jimmy’s ponies
never reared so gracefully as in front of the bank.
All the people came out of their shops and offices and clapped
generously. A light breeze floated out the flags, and made the gold
fringe on the Snake Charmer’s cage wave and look rich and foreign. The
band outdid itself; and as the forward end of the procession turned out
of the street, a great cheer began behind them, grew and swelled, till
even the youngest child knew “folks liked the circus.”
“To the park!” Billy shouted, his heart thumping with joy.
“The children will get too tired,” the Snake Charmer warned.
“No, we won’t!” came a dozen voices.
“Yes, yes; take us to the park, papa,” piped one half of the Siamese
Twins.
“Of course they won’t be too tired! The kids have pluck.”
The Snake Charmer was silenced; for if the children had before this
been tired, not one of them now but swelled with pride and fortitude at
this praise from Billy.
All went well for some blocks. There was a flattering audience at each
front door; a few honored the pageant by following. These were mostly
mothers of the younger children, who knew the possibilities of such an
aggregation of animals and boys.
But just before they were to enter the park Bouncer had his innings. A
rabbit, startled, sprang from under the roadside bushes and ran down
the street toward the open country. Bouncer’s tail went up. He dashed
out of line, overturned the Polar Bear’s cage, and was off after his
quarry, barking wildly, with the fast disrupting cage dangling at his
heels. The Polar Bear, liberated, flew home like a streak of white
light. The trained dogs broke from their struggling boy leaders,
carrying with them gleaming bits of red paper uniform.
The two steeds attached to the car of the Goddess of Liberty, also
deserted their task, and marked their path with bright bits of paper
and bunting.
Old Dom Pedro, scenting fresh excitement, snorted and bolted. The
Strong Man was not strong enough to hold him to line, though he guided
the horse safely to the Carter stable, where Bess appeared suddenly,
swaying alarmingly in her flimsy snake cage.
Half an hour later Charley went back to the disappointed remnants of
the show gathered in Jimmy’s barn, and told them Mrs. Carter had said,
“no more circus this day for Bess.” Buzz and his laughing Chinese had
been hurried to safety. The Roc had shed a part of his false feathers,
and was fast giving himself away as plain gander. The White Elephant
had also become restive, and it was thought best to transfer the Fair
Princess of Bombay from her howdah to _terra firma_. And the Goddess
of Liberty, minus her car, and a part of her draperies, and plus a
big smooch on her cheek, was somehow not very imposing. Various other
livestock became weary or rebellious, and the Siamese Twins had to be
severed to prevent their coming to blows.
It was too bad! There could be no show in the barn. But the band was
still lusty, the trick ponies remained, the boys and girls were eager
to talk it over, and--the procession had been a success!
Presently the little Chinese boy returned, his grin resumed, and a
large basket on his arm.
“Missee Lancastler, she say you heap good show. Now you heap hungly.
You catchee him plenty glub.” With that he uncovered a treat that made
them forget the circus. They munched the sandwiches, the luscious
fruit, candy, and cake, and other good things from Mrs. Lancaster’s
generous pantry, and discussed the procession; voted Mrs. Lancaster a
trump; and decided to have a circus every year.
And the shouts that greeted this fiat shook the old barn and made the
hens in the hay cackle with fright.