Ll COPYRiGa T, 1932, BV DODD, MIAD AND COMPANY 1 [Continned from last week ] Hasty fumbled with his bat avd sparred for time. “Did yo’ say whar- I been. - “Dat’s wut be done ast yo'," Mandy prompted viton™n Ir. | “1 bin “ceived, Mars John" declared | ho Hasty s=olemnly. Mandy snorted in credulousiy. Douglas waited. “A gewmtuen in de circus done tole me diz mawnin’ dat ef I earry wate: £0’ de el'phants he'll let me in de cir | cus fo’ nuffin’, an’ I make a 'greement wid Lim. Mars John, did yo’ ebber geed an ol'phant drink?’ he asked,| { i rolling his ¢yves. John shook his head. “Well, sali, he jes’ put dat trunk a his’n into de pail jes’ once an’—swish | water gone.” : Douglas laughed, snd Mandy mut tered sulleniy. “Well, sah,” continued Hasty, “1 totc water fo’ dem el’'phants all day long an’ when I cum roun’ to see de circus de gemmen won't let me in. An’ whe I try to crawl under de tent dey pulls me out by de laigs an’ beats me.” He looked from one to the other, expect ing sympathy. “Sarves you right,” was Mandy's unfeeling reply. “If yo's so anxious {: be a-totin’ water, jes’ yo' come alon: outside and tote some fo' Mandy.” “I ean't do no mo’ earryin’, Mandy.’ protested Flasty. “I's hurted in ma! arm.” “What hurt yo'?” “Tiger.” . “A tiger?” exclatmed the women iv unison. “Done chawed it mos’ off,” he de elared solerenly. “Deacon Elverson, seed it, an’ he says I's hurt bad.” “Dencon Eiverson!" cried the spin fall off her hoss!” she cried. “Dr. Hartley say can dey bring her in heah?” “Of course,” sald Douglas, hurrying outside. There were horrified exclamation from the women, who were aghast at the idea of a circus rider in the par sonage. In their helpless indignation they turned upon the little deacon, feel ing intuitively that he was enjoying the drama. Elverson was retreating toward the door when he was sudden ly thrust acide by Douglas. In the young pastor's arms was a white, spangled burden of humanity her slender arm hung lifeless over his shoulder. The silk stocking was torn from one bruised ankle; her hair fel! across her face, veiling it from the un. friendly glances of the women. Doug Ins passed out of sight up the stair way without looking to the right or left, followed by the doctor. Mandy roached the front door in time to push hack a crowd of intrud ers. She had barely closed the doo when it was thrust open by Jim. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Go way um here!” cried Mandy as her eres unconsciously sought the stairs. Jim followed the direction of her glance and cleared the steps at a bound. Mardy pursued him, muttering angrily. Deacon Elverson, too, vas about to follow when a grim remind from Miss 'erKins brought him apc i 1 and he made for the door instead 11+! started back on opening it, for stand ing on the threshold was a clown | his grotesque makeup. His wil clothes were partially concealed by | large travelinz ulster held together by itm » * BINGO GALLOPED ON, AND SHE FELL TO THE GROUND. ster. “Was Deacon Elverson at the circus?” “He was in de lot, a-tryin’ to look in, same as me,” Hasty answered in nocently. “You'd hetter take Hasty Into the kitchen,” said Douglas to Mandy, with a dry smile. “He's talking too much for a wouuded man.” Mandy disappeared with the - graced Hasty, advising him, with scorn, “to get de tiger to chaw off b! | laigs, so's he wouldn't have to wall no mo".” i The women gazed at each other with lips closed tightly, Elverson's be havior wus beyond their power of ex- pression. Miss Perkins turned to the pastor as thongh he were somehow to blame for the deacon's backslidin:. but before she could find words to or gue the point the timid little deacon | appeared in the doorway, utterly un-| conscious of the hostile reception that! Hasty bad prepared for him. He glanced nervously from one set face to the other, then coughed behind Lis | hat. “We're all very much interested in| the circus,” sald Douglas. “Can't yru tell us about it? “I just went into the lot to look fou my son,” stammered the deacon. *! feared Peter had strayed.” “Why, deacon!” said Mrs. Willough- by. “I just stopped by your house and saw Mrs, Blverson putting Petr to bed ” The deacon was saved from furthe: embarrassment by an exclamation from Julia, who had stayed at the window. “Oh, look; something has happened!” she cried. “There's a crowd. They are coming this way.” Douglas crossed quickly to Julia's side and saw an excited mob collect- ing before the entrance to the main tent. He had time to discover no more before Mandy burst in at the door, panting with excitement and roll- ing her large, white rimmed eyeballs. “Mars Jolin, a little circus girl done | man's voice. — one bufton. In one hand he carried a small ,lenther satchel, in the other a girl's sailor hat. A little tan coat was thrown across his arm. The giggles of the boy hiding behind his mother's gkirt were the only greetings received by the trembling old man in the door way. He glanced uncertainly from one un- friendly face to the other. waiting for a word of invitation to enter, hut none came. “Ixecuse me,” he said. “1 just brought some of her little things. She'd better put on her coat when she goes out. It's gettin’ kinder chiily.” He looked again into the blank faces. Still no one spoke. He stepped forward, trembling with anxiety. A sudden fear clutched “at his heart, the muscles of his face worked pitifully, the red painted lips began to quiver. “It ain't—it ain't that, is it?” he fal- tered, unable to utter the word that filled him with horror. Even Miss Perkins was momentarily touched by the anguish in the old “] guess you will find the person you are looking for up- stairs,” she answered tartly and flounced out of the house, calling to Julia and the others to follow her and declaring that she would soon let folks know how the parson had brought a “gircus ridin’ girl” into the parsonage. The painted clown stood alone, look- ing from one wall to the other, then crossed the room and placed the alli- gator satchel and the little coat and hat on the study table. He was care- ful not to wrinkle the coat, for this was Polly's birthday gift. Jim and he had planned to have sandwiches and soda pop on the top of the big wagon when they offered their treasures to- night. But now the wagons would soon be leaving, and where was Pol- ly? He turned to ask this question as came down the stairs. “Well, if dar ain't anudder one!” she cried. “Never mind, Mandy,” said Douglas, i i i | { i | that's what she calls me. who was just behind ber, carrying o small water pitcher and searching fo a bottle of brandy which had been placed in the medicine chest for emer- gencies. “You cau take these upstairs,” be told her when he had filled the pitcher with water and found the liquor. Man- dy looked threateningly at Toby, then reluctantly went on her way. Douglas turned to the old man pleas- antly. His was the first greeting that Toby had received, and be at last found voice to ask whether Polly was badly burt. “The doctor hasn't told us yet,” said Douglas kindly. “I'm her Uncle Toby—not her real uncle,” the old man explained, “but f The peinted clovm stood alone, I couldn’: come oui right away because I'm on in the concert. Could I see her now. please?" “Here's the doctor” said Douglas as Hartley came down the stairs, follow led by Jim. “Well, doctor, not bad. ! hope?” “Yes, rather bad,” said the doctor, adding qnickly as he saw the suffering in Toby's face, “but don't be alarmed She's going to get well.” { “How long wiil it be before we can | | seeing asked, looking at Jin and Toby. have her back—before she can ride again?” asked Jim gruflly as he stood apart, twisting his brown, worn hat in his hands “Probably several months,” said the doctor, “No bones are broken, but the ligaments of one ankle are torn, and she received a bad blow on the head. It will be some time before she recov ers consciousness.” “What are we goin’ to do, Jim?’ asked Toby helplessly. “You needn't worry. We'll take good care of her here,” said Douglas. desperation written on their faces. “Here? ‘They looked at him in- | credulousiy. And this was a parson! “Where are her parents?” the doctor “She ain't got no parents "cept Toby | an’ me.” replied Jim, “We've took | care of her ever since she was baby." “Oh, 1 see!” said the doctor, “Well one of you'd better stay here until sh. can be moved.” “That's the trouble. We can't,” said Toby, hanginz his head. “You see, sir circus folks is like soldiers. No mnt ter what happens, the show has to co on, an’ we got to be in our places.” “Well, well, she'll be safe enough here,” said the doctor. “It is a foriu nate thing that Mr. Douglas ean man age this. Our town hospital burned down a few months ago, and we've been rather puzzled as to what to do with such cases.” He took his leave with a cheery “Geod night” and » promise to ook in upon the little pa tient later. Jim shuffled awkward! toward the nastor. “It's mighty zood of you to do this” he mumbled, “but she ain't goin’ to be no charity patient. Me an’ Toby i: goin’ to look after her keep.” “Her wants will be very few,” Doug- las answered kindly. “You needn't trouble much about that.” “1 mean it,” said Jim savagely. He met Douglas’ glance of surprise with a determined look, for he feared that his chance of being usefui to Polly might bo slipping out of his life. “You mustn't mind Jim,” the clown pleaded at the pastor's elbow. “You see, pain gets some folks different from others, an’ it always kinder makes him savage.” Claster's Clothing Store. THIS have us serve you or not. $9.95 I don’t want to tell you anything about these suits, as I would rather have you see them and know then for yourself, whether it's worth your while to Only listen to this—I want to impress upon your memory that these suits are the product that sell for $13.00 to $15.00 any place, where they handle as good clothes. WEEK In our Clothing Window, we have on display a few sam- ples of Men’s Suits that sell at Specials in Ladies Shoes This Week prisingly long time. OUR BOY'S CLOTHES Are as WEAR-RESISTING as NEEDLE, THREAD and “KNOW- HOW” can make them. American Boys, especially those around Bellefonte, lead the strenuous life and must have garments to stand the tension imposed by the knocks and shocks of hard use. Clothes that are made right of honest fabrics, and rein- forced at all points where the strain falls, with seams extra strengthened and buttons sewed on well, will keep the most sctive boys neatly outfitted for a sur- This is the kind of clothes that bear the CrasTter LABEL, and are also on display this week in our show windows. PRICES RANGE FROM $1.29 to $4.95. SEE THEM. RE Bellefonte, Pa. “Oh, that's all right,” Douglas an- swered quickly. His own life had | been so lonely that he could under-| stand the selfish yearning in the big man's heart. “You must do what you think best about these things. Mandy and I will look after the rest.” Jim hung his head, feeling somehow that the pastor had seen straight into his heart and discovered his petty weakness. Fe was about to turn to- ward the door when it was thrown open by Barter. “Where is che? shouted the mana- ger, looking from one to the other. “She can’t come.” sald Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew the storm of opposition with which Barker would meet the announcement. “Can't come?” shrieked Barker. “Of course she'll come. 1 can’t get along without her. She's got to come.” Tle looked at Jim, who remained silent and firm. “Why ain't she comin’?” he asked, feeling himself already defeat- ed. iii. — es J In the young pastor's arms was a white. spangled burden of humanity. “She's hurt bad,” was Jim's laconic reply. “The devil she Is!” said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation. “Is that right?” “She won't be able to travel for some time,” said Douglas. “Mr. Barker is our manager.” Toby explained as he edged his way to the pastor's side. “Some time!” Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for their misfortune. “Well, you just bet she will,” he declared menacingly. “See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that,” said Jim, facing the manager. “He's darned square, even if he is a parson.” Barker turned away. He was not a bad hearted man, but he was irritated and upset at los- ing the star feature of his bill “Ain't this my dodgasted luck?’ he muttered to himself as his eye again traveled to the boss canvasman. “You get out of here, Jim,” he shouted, “a:’ start them wagons. The show's got to go on, Poll or no Poll!” i He turned with his hand on the doorknob and jerked out a grudging’ thanks to the pastor. “It's all fired good of you to take her in,” he said, “but it's tough to lose her. Good night!” He banged the door and clat- | tered down the steps. Jim waited. He was trying to flud | words in which to tell his gratitude. | None came, and he turned to go, with! a short “Goodby.” “Good night, Jim,” said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the hig fellow’s hand. “Much obliged,” Jim answered gruff’ ly. It was his only polite phrase, and he had taught Polly to say it. Douz- las waited until Jim had passed down the steps, then turned to Toby, who still lingered near the table. “You'll tell her how it was me an’ Jim had te leave her without sayin’ goodby, won't you, sir?” Toby pleaded. “Yes, indeed,” Douglas promised. “I'll jes put this little bit of money into her satchel.” He picked up the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's birthday gift. “Me an’ Jim will be sendin’ her more soon.” “You're going to miss her, I'm afraid,” Douglas said, feeling an ir- resistible desire to gain the old man's confidence, “Lord bless you, yes, sir!” Toby an- swered, turning upon him eagerly. “Me an’ Jim has been father an’ moth- er an’ jes’ about everything to that little one. She wasn't much bigger'n a handful of peanuts when we begun a-worryin’ about her.” “Well, Mandy will do the worrying now,” Douglas laughed. “She's been dying for a chance to mother some body all along. Why, she even tried it on me.” “lI noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look kinder queer at me,” said Toby, “an’ | been a-wonderin® if mebbe they might feel the same about her.” “Oh, they're all right!” Douglas ns- sured him. “They'll be her friends in no time.” “She’s fit for ‘em, sir,” Toby plead. ed. “She's good, clean into the mid: dle of her heart.” “I'm sure of it.” Douglas answered, “No malicr wil lkippons, the show has to go on.” “I've heard how some church folks feels towards us circus people, sir, an’ I jes’ wanted you to know that there ain't finer families or better mothers or fathers or grandfathers or grandmothers anywhere than among us. Why, that girl's mother rode horses afore her, an’ her mother that, an’ her grandmother an’ father afore that, an’ there ain't body what's cared more for their name an’ their children's good *an her people has. You see, sir, cus folks is all like that. Ss Jes Sz B1:i LL like one big family. They tends to their business an’ takes good care of { theirseives, They has to or they { couldn't do their work. It's ‘cause I'm leavin’ her with you that I'm sayin’ all this,” the old man apologized. “I'm glad you told me, Toby,” Doug- las answered kindly. “I've never known much about circus folks.” “I guess I'd better be goin’,” Toby faltered as his eyes roved hungrily to- ward the stairway. “I'll send you our route, an’ mebbe you'll be lettin’ us know how she is.” “Indeed. 1 will,” Douglas assured him heartily. “You might tell her we'll write ever’ day or £0.” he added. “I'l tell her.” Douglas promised ear- nestly. “Good night!” The old man hesitat- ed, unwillinz to go, but unable to find further pretext for staying. “Good night, Toby.” Douglas ex- tended his hand toward the bent figure ‘that was about to shufile past him. The withered hand of the white faced clown rested in the strong grasp of the pastor, and his pale little eyes sought the face of the stalwart man before him. A numb desolation was growing in his heart. The object for which he hind gone on day by day was being left behind, and he must stumble forth into the night alone. “It's hard to leave her,” he mumn- bled, “but the show has got to go on.” The door shut out the beng, old fig ure. Douglas stood for some time where Toby had left him, still think- ing of his prophetic words. His rev- erie was broken by the sounds of the departing wagons, the low muttered curses of the drivers, the shrieking and roaring of the animals, as the cir- cus train moved up the distant hill. “The show has got to go on,” he re- peated as he crossed to his study table and seated himself for work in the dim light of the old fashioned lamp. He put out one hand to draw the sheets of his interrupted sermon to- ward him, but instead it fell upon a small sailor hat. He twisted the hat absently in his fingers, not yet realiz- ing the new order of things that was coming Into his life. Mandy tiptoed softly down the stairs. She placed one pudgy forefinger on her lips and rolled her large eyes skyward. “Dat sure am an angel chile straight from heb- ben,” she whispered. “She done got a face jes’ like a little flower.” “Straight from heaven,” Douglas re- peated as she crossed softly to the ta- ble and picked up the satchel and coat. “You can leave the lamp, Mandy. 1 must finish tomorrow's sermon.” She turned at the threshold and shook her head rather sadly as she saw the imprint of the day's cares on the young pastor's face. “Yo' mus’ be pow'ful tired,” she said. “No, no; not at all. Good night, Mandy.” [To be Continued. ——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
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