THE CIRCUS
When they were all packed in to the big Parrott coach, ready to start
for the day at Cherryville, things couldn’t have been better for a
beginning. There was Mrs. Pepper with Phronsie on her lap, then Davie
next, and in the corner, Jimmy fixed up in the jacket his mother had
worked on as to patches, up to the last moment.
And over on the other seat were Polly and Joel and Ben--just a good
half-dozen and one of Badgertown folks going to their first circus.
For once Joel could say nothing. The wonderful expedition had stunned
him, and he sat with folded hands, and eyes big with suppressed
excitement. Ben was the one who did the talking, and he bubbled over in
the most unusual fashion, so that Polly kept bobbing her smiles and
delighted appreciation over Joel’s head, at intervals all through the
ride. It was so good to see Ben merry, and to know that he was going to
have a good time for once in his life.
But once the circus-ground was reached, Joel found his tongue. He
sprang out the first, and a volley of questions were fired, sometimes
to the Peppers, and just as often as not, into the air. It made no
difference, for Joel couldn’t wait to get the answers.
Mother Pepper kept her brood together, and waited while Simmons carried
out the instructions of Miss Parrott, and bought the tickets, and got
the big lunch-basket down. Then he considered his duties were all done,
until after the performance he should pick the party up for the return
trip.
“I’m going to carry the things to eat,” cried Joel, tugging at the big
basket as it was set on the ground.
“You let that basket alone, Joe,” commanded Ben.
Joel dropped the handle as if it were hot, then he whirled around to
make a bee-line for the string of red carts where the animals had been.
“See here,” Ben gave a dash, seized him and brought him back. “You stay
here with us.”
“Now, children,” Mother Pepper smiled on the eager-eyed group, “there
are two things to remember--we must all keep together, and we mustn’t
crowd nor push other people.”
“I’m going to see things,” began Joel.
“We can see a great deal more if we don’t push,” said Mamsie, “and we
can enjoy it better.”
“I’ll take care of Joel,” said Ben, his fingers holding the small
calico sleeve, “so you won’t have to look out for him, Mamsie.”
“Oh, I don’t want Ben to take care of me!” Joel howled and squirmed to
get free, but as Ben’s fingers only gripped the tighter, it wasn’t much
use.
“Joel is going to be a good boy, I’m sure,” said Mother Pepper, smiling
down at him.
Joel drew himself up. “I’m going to be good,” he said proudly.
“Well, in the first place, we must think what we will do with the
lunch-basket,” said Mrs. Pepper. “Ben can’t carry it around until it is
time to eat.”
“Let’s eat the things now, Mamsie,” begged Joel, tearing off his gaze
from the beautiful red carts and other entrancing equipment of the show
scattered over the big field.
“Why, Joel Pepper!” exclaimed Polly, with a little laugh, “we haven’t
hardly begun the day. The idea of eating!”
“I can eat,” said Joel in an injured tone. “I’m awful hungry.”
Just then up came Simmons. He even touched his hat to Mrs. Pepper,
a courtesy he was just beginning to observe, for little-brown-house
people didn’t at all appeal to him. He scraped his throat, “Miss
Parrott said I was to take care of the lunch-basket.” He was about to
say, “I forgot to tell you,” but he couldn’t quite make up his mind to
utter such a story, although he had planned it all out, intending to
keep the whole day to himself without the bother of such people on his
mind. Instead, here he was saying, “She said I was to bring it to you
when you were ready for it.”
So there was that trouble settled. And the tickets being in Mother
Pepper’s hand, up she went with all her brood to the little narrow walk
between the stakes of the tent, where a big man, his hat on the back
of his head, sat in a chair.
“Seven,” he said, taking them to count, and he tore off the numbers,
and pushed them into her hand, “that’s right. Step in, mar’m.” And into
the tent they all stepped, Joel and Ben crowding together, for the
small calico sleeve still had to be held, of course.
The grass was all trodden hard beneath their feet, and everything
seemed to smell of peanuts, that boys were carrying about in baskets,
bawling out their wares--people eating out of the bags they had just
bought, and scattering the shells to right and to left.
No one of the Peppers said a word about “peanuts” and they all tried
not to look at the baskets, for they had settled that matter when they
knew they were going to the circus.
Polly began it, and Ben helped her, getting the children together in
a corner of the kitchen, “You know we haven’t any money to spend, and
it will make Mamsie feel just dreadfully if we look as if we wanted
things,” so they had all promised they wouldn’t look at the things.
But now it was pretty hard work with so many baskets, and boys poking
them in their faces. Didn’t the peanuts smell good though! At last Joel
had to hold his little stubby nose tightly with his fingers. Then he
suddenly dropped them.
“I’m going up on top,” he screamed, as several boys dashed by
scrambling over the rows of boards that encircled the big ring, and he
twitched himself free.
“No, you don’t,” said Ben, dashing after, “we’ve got to sit where our
tickets say.”
But Joel wildly protested that he was going where those other boys
were, who now on the tip top seat were laughing and jeering people down
below, and acting dreadfully.
One of the circus men passing by, said “Jiminy! I wouldn’t want to hold
that eel,” to Ben.
Joel turned his wild gaze down to the man, “I’m not an eel,” he said,
and his black eyes blazed.
“You are,” said the man, looking back as he hurried off, “a slippery,
squirmy old eel and I’ve a good mind to douse you into the fish-tank.”
“He sha’n’t,” roared Joel, and he beat his small fists together, “and
I’m going after him, and smash him.”
“You’d get smashed yourself,” said Ben. “Now aren’t you ashamed, Joel;
everybody’s looking at us. Mamsie will have to take us home if you act
so.”
Joel’s fists flew apart, and he glanced quickly around. “There isn’t
anybody,” he began, but an old woman in a poke bonnet came up. “Is the
little boy sick?” she asked, in great concern.
“No,” said Ben, “I’m afraid he’s naughty.”
“That’s very bad,” said the old woman severely and shaking her poke
bonnet at him. “I sh’d take him right home if I was you. Folks want to
enjoy a circus and th’ animiles in peace without having boys act like
Kedar.”
“I think he’s going to be good,” said Ben. His face was very red, and
he would have given a great deal to have the old woman pass along. Oh,
if Mamsie and the others were to come up! But she stayed. “I d’now,”
she said, “I don’t set no gret by boys. You never know what they’re up
to unless they’re sick. Sure he ain’t?” She peered at Joel’s little
scowling face, and drew out a small bottle from a black silk bag
dangling on her arm. “Now two or three drops of this,” and she pulled
out the cork.
It smelt dreadfully as it was put under Joel’s little nose, and he
bobbed his head back and threw up his arm. Away went the bottle with
the black stuff, and the old woman with the poke bonnet ran after it,
as it fell on the sawdust just inside the rope ring.
“Here, keep out of there!” roared a circus man, tearing along up, and
leaping the rope, he seized her shawl.
“I’m getting my bottle,” she said angrily, “that boy there,” she
pointed to Joel, “threw it over here, and he’s spilt, most all of my
med’cine.” She held it up to the light.
“Oh, no,” said Ben, hurrying over, “my brother didn’t throw it--it was
an accident.”
“She stuck it up to my nose,” said Joel, hurrying up, wrathfully, “she
hadn’t any business to. She is a bad old woman.”
“Joel--Joel!” Ben’s face was scarlet. The circus man took the bottle
and gave it a good smell.
“_Phew!_” he said, giving it back hastily. “Well I’d ’a’ throw’d it to
Halifax. Now get out o’ here,” he helped her over the rope, “we don’t
want no old women with bottles makin’ trouble. I’ve a good mind to put
you out.” He kept hold of her shawl.
The old woman, with a trembling hand, put the cork back into the little
bottle. She began to whimper. “Oh, don’t do that. I’ve never ben to a
circus, an’ I’ve saved my money for ever so long. Don’t put me out,
Mister.”
Joel swallowed hard; then he plunged over. “You mustn’t put her out. I
sha’n’t let you.”
“Hello!” the circus man looked down at the small figure, then he
whistled.
“No, I sha’n’t,” said Joel, tossing his head and his black eyes
flashed. “She thought I was sick.”
“That’s it,” the old woman mumbled, “I thought he was sick, and--”
“And I didn’t want medicine,” Joel hurried on, “and it smelt.”
“I sh’d think it did,” the circus man rubbed his nose. “Well, that’s
another thing, if you want her to stay. But I thought you said she was
bad.”
Joel hung his head, and the hot color rushed all over his little face.
“She didn’t mean--” he began.
“All right,” said the circus man. “You can stay, old bottle woman,” he
turned to her. “I’ve got something more to do than to hang around here
to straighten out a fuss when there don’t seem to be none.”
“Mister,” said the old woman, as he was slouching off, “that boy didn’t
’xactly throw my bottle, not ’xactly--”
He laughed and snapped his fingers at her, and now he was gone for good.
“Why, there’s Mamsie--and the others,” cried Ben, looking off to a
middle row of seats, where Polly was standing up and beckoning with all
her might. “Come, they’ve found our places.”
“I’m sure I don’t know where my seat is,” said the old woman
helplessly, and she began to fumble in her black silk bag, “th’ man
give me somethin’ an’--”
Joel was dashing off to the others, but thinking better of it, turned
back. “I’ll find it for you,” he cried, “give me the bag,” and not
waiting for permission, he seized it and getting down on his knees, he
emptied it of all its contents on the grass.
It was all done before Ben could do more than cry, “Joel!”
The old woman sank down on her knees beside Joel, as he pawed among the
collection of articles spread on the grass. Strange to say she seemed
more curious to see if he would find it than disturbed at the way her
bag was emptied.
“Here ’tis!” he held it up joyfully.
“You’re a real good boy,” exclaimed the old woman gratefully. “Now I’ll
put the things back.”
“I’ll help,” said Joel, falling to on the work. So together everything
was all snug and safe once more in the black silk bag, and the old
woman hung it on her arm again, and got up to her feet.
“It’s No. 12,” said Joel, squinting at the little piece of pasteboard.
“I’ll find it for you,” and he pranced along, Ben and the old woman
following, his black eyes eagerly scanning the seats. “21--20,” he ran
on, “15--14--why--it’s next to Mamsie!”
Sure enough. They helped the little old woman, her poke bonnet settling
over her eyes on the ascent, up to the middle row, and down she sat by
Mrs. Pepper. When she found who it was in the next seat, she leaned
forward and said in a loud whisper, “Your boy, the littlest one, is an
awful good boy. He helped me consid’able.” She had not then learned
that there was a third Pepper boy, still smaller.
Mrs. Pepper beamed on her, and was just saying, “I am so glad,” when
Joel, on her other side, burst out, “Oh, I was bad--her bottle flew
off--and it smelt bad, and I’m sorry.”
“It was an accident,” said Ben hastily. And the old woman, when she saw
Mrs. Pepper’s face, hurried to say, “’Twarn’t much spilt, an’ anyway
I’ve got enough left,” and just then, so many people came hurrying in
that there was such a great commotion in finding seats, as to absorb
all attention. And the first thing Joel knew, a trembling hand was laid
across Mrs. Pepper’s lap. “There’s a dime,” said the little old woman,
“I brought it for peanuts. And you can buy some for us all.”
Joel hopped to his feet, his eyes sparkling.
“I’ll go with him,” said Ben.
“No, no,” roared Joel, clutching the dime. “She said me--I’m going
alone,” and he began to wriggle out of his seat.
Ben looked at Mrs. Pepper in dismay, as she said quietly, “Yes, you may
go, Joel, by yourself. I can trust you.”
“She says I may,” Joel was already working his way over the rows. He
turned to send a delighted smile back, and Mrs. Pepper nodded. “I can
trust you,” she said again.
“All them children yours?” asked the little woman presently, craning
her neck to see the row of heads the other side of Mrs. Pepper.
“All but one,” said Mrs. Pepper, “and he is a Badgertown boy.”
“My sakes! hain’t you had a sight o’ trouble though, to bring up such a
lot o’ young ones.”
Mother Pepper turned clear around in her seat. “Trouble?” she repeated,
and her black eyes shone, “why I never should think of such a thing!
Why, they are my _children_.”
“Yes, that’s jest what I say--and such a lot o’ them,” affirmed the
little old woman, bobbing her poke bonnet with emphasis, as Joel came
rushing back swinging a big bag of peanuts.
“You see I thought I’d get peanuts. There’s a sight o’ nourishment in
chewin’ of ’em,” she said, taking the bag, “so I didn’t bring nothin’
to eat.” She emptied out a small handful into her lap. “There, boy,”
and she handed the bag back to Joel, “you an’ your folks can have th’
rest, an’ we can sit an’ chew on ’em together.”
“And we have a great deal of luncheon,” said Mrs. Pepper, “and it will
be very nice to have you eat with us.”
And just then the band marched in, smart in bright red coats and gilt
helmets--with a blare of trumpets, to announce the approach of the
grand procession.