COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY < A [Continued from last week ] Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of Polly's dis- appearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons or their recent dis- approval of him. He avoided meeting as possible. Nothing was sald about the pastor's plans for the future or about his con- tinued connection with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood was on the point of exploding from an overac- "Why didn’t she come running in to see them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the pastor stayed away on the hills all day? Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so finally she drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held her small wad of savings and told Hasty to “go 'long to de show an’ find out ’bout Miss Polly.” She was anxiously waiting for him when Deacon Strong knocked at the door for the second time that after- noon. “Is Mr. Douglas back yet?’ he asked. “No, sah, he ain't,” sald Mandy very shortly. She felt that Strong and El verson had been “a-tryin’ to spy on de parson all day,” and she resented their visits more than she usually did. “What time are you expectin’ him? “I don’t nebber spec’ Massa Doug- las till I sees him.” Strong grunted uncivilly and went down the steps. She saw from the window that he met Elverson in front of the church. “Dey sure am a-meanin’ trouble” she mumbled. The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had straggled down the street. She opened the door and stood on the porch; the house seemed to suffocate her. What was keeping Hasty? He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he brought un- welcome knews. “Ain't she dar?’ “She's a-trabbelin’ wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn’t done ride.” “See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?” “I don’ rightly know,” sald Hasty. “A great big man, what wored clothes like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand an’ says as how he's | *bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. An’ den he says as how de udder gal was jes’ as good, an’ den ever'body look disappointed like, an’ ‘den out comes de udder gal on a hoss | an’ do tricks, an’ I ain't heard no more *bout Miss Polly.” “She's sick, dat's what I says,” Man- dy declared excitedly, “an’ somebody's got to do somethin!” “I done all I knowed,” drawled Has- ty, fearing that Mandy was regretting her twenty-five cent investment, “Go ‘long out an’ fix up dat ‘ere kitchen fire,” was Mandy's impatient reply. “I got to keep dem vittels warm for Massa John.” She wished to be alone, so that she could think of some way to get hold of Polly. “Dat baby faced mornin’ glory done got Mandy all wobbly 'bout de heart,” she declared to herself as she crossed to the window for a sight of the pastor. It was nearly dark when she saw him coming slowly down the patl from the hill. She lighted the study “She's sick, dat's what I says.” lamp, rearranged the cushions and tried to make the room look cheery for his entrance. “I's 'fraid yo's mighty tired,” she sald. “Oh, no,” answered Douglas absently. “Mebbe yo'd like Mandy to be sarvin’ your supper in here tonight. It's more cheerfuler.” He crossed to the window and looked out upon the circus lot. The flare of the torches and the red fire came up to have done with dreams and speculation, to feel something tan- gibie, warm and real within his grasp. “I can't go on like this!” he cried. “I can't!” He turned from the window and walked hurriedly up and down the room. Indoors or out, he found no new gravel walk?’ he asked Hasty, remembering that he had been laying a fresh path to the Sunday school room. “Jes’ yo’ come eat yo' supper,” Man- dy called to Douglas. “Don’ yo’ worry your head ‘bout dat lazy husban’ ob mine. He ain't goin’ ter work ‘nuff to hurt hisself.” For an instant she had been tempted to let the pastor know how Hasty had gone to the cir- cus and seen nothing of Polly, but her motherly Instinct won the day, and she urged him to eat before disturbing him with her own anxieties. It was no use. He only toyed with his food; he was clearly ill at ease and eager to be alone, She gave up trying to tempt his appetite and began to lead up in a roundabout way to the things which she wished to ask. “Dar’'s qui‘e some racket out dar in de lot tonight,” she said. Douglas did not answer. After a moment she went | on, “Hasty didn't work on no walk today.” Douglas looked at her quiz- zically, while Hasty, convinced that for reasons of her own she was going to get him into trouble, was making frantic motions. “He done gone ter de circus,” she blurted out. Douglas’ face became suddenly grave. Mandy saw that she had touched an open wound. “I jes’ couldn't stan’ it, Massa John. I had ter find out "bout dat angel chile.” There was a pause. She felt that he was waiting for her to go on. “She didn’t done ride today.” He looked up with the eyes of a dumb, persecuted animal. “And de gemmen in de show didn't tell nobody why—jes' speaked 'bout de udder gal takin’ her place.” “Why didn't she ride?” cried Doug- las, in an agony of suspense. “Dat's what I don’ know, sah’ Mandy began to cry. It was the first time in his experience that Douglas had ever known her to give way to any such weakness. Hasty came down from the window and tried to put one arm about Man- dy’'s shoulders. “Leab me along, yo' nigger!” she ex- claimed, trying to cover her tears with a show of anger that she did not feel; then she rushed from the room, fol- lowed by Hasty. The band was playing loudly. The din of the night performance was increasing. Douglas’ nerves were strained to the point of breaking. He would not let himself go near the win- dow. He stood by the side of the ta- ble, his fists clinched, and tried to beat back the impulse that was pulling him toward the door. Again and again he set his teeth. It was uncertainty that gnawed at him so. Was she ili? Could she need him? Was she sorry for having left him? Would she be glad if he went for her and brought her back with him? He recalled the hysterical note in her behavior the dey that she went away—how she had pleaded, only a few moments before Jim came, never to be separated from him. Had she really cared for Jim and for the old life? Why had she never written? ‘Was she ashamed? Was she sorry for what she had done? What could it mean? He threw his hands above his head with a gesture of despair. A mo- ment later he passed out into the night. CHAPTER XIIL was slow tonight. The big show was nearly over, yet many of the props used in the early part of the bill were still unloaded. He was tinkering absen with one of the wagons in the back lot, and the men were standing about idly waiting for orders when Barker came out of the main tent and called to him ly: “Hey, there, Jim! What's your ex- cuse tonight?” “Hxcuse for what?" Jim crossed slowly to Barker. “The cook tent was started half an hour late, and the sideshow top ain't loaded yet.” “Your wagons Is on the bum; that's what! No. 38 carries the cook tent. an’ the blacksmith has been tinkerin’ with it all day. Ask him what shape it's In.” “You're always stallin’,” was Bar- ker’s sullen complaint. “It's the wag- ons or the blacksmiths or anything but the truth. [ know what's the matter, all right.” “What do you mean by that?” asked Jim sharply. “I mean that all your time's took up a-carryin’ and a-fetchin’ for that girl what calls you ‘Muvver Jim."*” “What have you got to say about her?’ Jim eyed him with a threaten- ing look. “lI got a-plenty,” sald Barker as he turned to snap his whip at the small boys who had stolen into the back lot to peek under the rear edge of the big top. “She's been about as much good as a sick cat since she come back. You saw her act last night.” “Yes,” answered Jim doggedly. “Wasn't it punk? She didn’t show at all this afternoon; sald she was sick. And me with all them people inside what knowed her waitin’ to see her! “Give her a little time,” Jim pleaded. “She ain't rode for a year.” “Time!” shouted Barker. “How much #oes she want? She's been back a month, and Instead of bracin’ up she's a-gettin’ worse. There's only one thing for me to do.” “What's that?’ asked Jim uneasily. “I'm goin’ to call her, and call her bard.” “Look here, Barker,” and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked steadily at the other man, “you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, but if I catches you abusin’' Poll your bein’ boss won't make no difference.” “You can't bluff me!” shouted Barker. “I ain't bluffin’. I'm only tellin’ you,” said Jim very quietly. “Well, you tell her to get on to her job. If she don’t, she quits; that's all.” He hurried into the ring. Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the ground with thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had tried te rouse her. It was no use. She had “Star gazin', Poll™ he asked. looked at him blankly. “If she would only complain,” he said to himself; “if she would only get mad, anything. anything to wake her.” But she did not complain. She went through her daily routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes wondered how Jim could talk so much about her work. but before she could answer the ques- tion her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed and left her with folded band and wide, staring eyes. gazing into the distance. The memory of these times made Jim helpless tonight. He had gone on hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the “let down” in her work, and now the blow had fallen. How could he tell her? One of the acts came tumbling out of the main tent. There was a mo- ment's confusion as clowns, acrobats and animals passed each other on their way to and from the ring; then the lot cleared again, and Polly came slowly from the dressing tent. She looked very different from the little girl whom Jim had led away from the par- son's garden in a simple white frock one month before. Her thin, pensive face contrasted oddly with her glitter- ing attire. Her hair was knotted high on her head and intertwined with flowers and jewels. Her slender neck seemed scarcely able to support its burden. Her short, full skirt and low cut bodice were ablaze with white and colored stones. “What's on, Jim?” she asked. “The ‘leap o' death.’ You got plenty of time.” Polly's mind went back to the gir! who answered that call a year ago. Her spirit seemed very near tonight. The band stopped playing. Barker made his grandiloguent announcement about the wonderful act about to be seen, and her eyes wandered to the distant church steeple. The moonlight seemed to shun it tonight. It looked cold and grim and dark. She won- dered whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship had become as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whir of the great machine inside the tent as it plunged through space with its girl occupant. These things were a part of the daily routine, part of the strange, vague dream through which she must stum- ble for the rest of her life. Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She had forgotten his presence. “Star gazin', Poll?” he esked at Savings for Saturday on High BOY'S SUITS In Tan, Brown Shaded Mode. $4.50 for Saturday's driving, at STRAW HATS to fit all shapes of heads, faces and purses. All the newest and best brands . 39¢. to $2.19 Claster’s Clothing Store. Value $3.50 to . $2.29 W. L. DOUGLAS SHOES 3.00 Shoe 2.68 3.50 $ 2.98 4.00 ’ 3.38 Class Merchandise. D. V. B. UNDERWEAR Sleeveless Shirts; Drawers knee lengths; all sizes 28 to 42, worth soc, at 39¢ NECKWEAR. Silk and Mash Material Four-in- Hand, worth 25 and 50 cents. Here at 19 cents. MEN AND YOUNG—Recome to be wearers of our Clothing and you will increase your dressy appearance snd you will decrease your clothing expense. See our Suits from $3.95 fo $14.75, at each pri e you'll see distinctivness and a saviog as we promised. length, dreading to disturb her reverie. “I guess I was, Jim.” She turned to him with a little, forced smile. He longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke, “How you feelin’ tonight?’ “I'm all right,” she answered cheer- fully. “ hing you want?" “Want?' She turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so much that she wanted that the mere men- tion of the word had opened a well of pain in her heart. “I mean can I do anything for you?” “Oh, of course not” She remem- bered how little any one could do. “What is it, Poll?” he begged, but she only turned away and shook her head with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. “What made you cut out the show today? Was it be- cause you didn't want to ride afore folks what knowed you-—ride afore him mebbe?” “Him? Her face was white. Jim feared she might swoon. “You don't mean that he was"— ! “Oh, no,” he answered quickly, “of course not. Parsons don’t come to places like this one. I was only figur- in’ that you didn't want other folks to see an’ to tell him how you was rid- in.” She did not answer. “Waa that it, Poll?” he urged. “I don’t know.” She stared into space. “Was it?” “I guess it was,” she said after a long time. “l knowed it!” he cried. “I was a fool to 'a’ brung you back! You don't belong with us no more.” “Oh, don’t, Jim! Don't! Don't make me feel I'm in the way here too!” “Here too?’ He looked at her in as- tonishment. “You wasn’t in his way, was you, Poll?” “Yes, Jim.” She saw his look of un- bellef and continued hurriedly: “Oh, I tried not to be! I tried so hard. He used to read me verses out of a Bible sald you wouldn't? She did not answer. Strange things were going through the mind of the slow witted Jim. He braced himself for a difficult question. “Will you answer me somethin’ straight? he asked. “Why, of course,” she sald as she met his gaze. “Do you love the parson, Poll?’ She started. “Is that it?” Her lids fluttered and closed; she caught her breath quickly, her lips apart, then looked far into the dis- “Yes, Jim, I'm afraid that's it.” The little figure drooped, and she stood be- fore him with lowered eyes, unarmed. Jim looked at her helplessly, then shook his big, stupid head. “Ain't that h—1?" i He stopped and looked at her In astonishment. It was the first time that he had ever heard that sharp note in her voice. Her tiny figure was stiffened with decision. Her eyes were blazing. “If you ever dare to speak to him— about me, you'll never see me again.” Jim was perplexed. “I mean It, Jim. I've made my choice, and I've come back to you. It Children Cry for | Bellefonte, Pa. ‘you ever try to fix up things between | the ring. him and me. I'll run away—really and truly away—and you'll never, never get me back.” He shuffled &wkwardly to her side and reached apologetically for the lit- tle clinched fist. He held it in his big rough hand, toying nervously with the tiny fingers. “I wouldn't do nothin’ that you wasn't a-wantin’, Poll. 1 was just a-tryin’ to help you, only I—I never seers to know how.” She turned to him with tear dimmed eyes and rested her hands on his great, broad shoulders, and he saw the place where he dwelt in her heart. PE 1 ring, and Jim turned away to superintend their loading. Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main tent. Polly stood in the center of the lot. frowning and anxious, The mere men- tion of the pastor's name had made It seem impossible for her to ride to night. For hours she had been whip ping herself up to the point of doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came from CHAPTER XIV. HE “leap of death” implements were being carried from the “Mr. Barker, please!” He turned upon her sharply. “Well, what is it now?” “I want to ask you to let me off again tonight.” She spoke in a short, Jerky, desperate way. “What!” he shrieked. “Not go Into the ring, with all them people inside what's paid their money because they knowed you? “That's it!" she cried. “I can’t! I can't!” “You're gettin’ too tony! Barker sneered. “That's the trouble with you. You ain't been good for nothin’ since you was at that parson’s house. You didn’t stay there, and you're no use here. First thing you know you'll be out all round.” “Out? “Sure. You don’t think I'm goin’ to head my bill with a ‘dead one,’ do you? “I am not a ‘dead one,’ ” she answer- ed excitedly. “I'm the best rider you've had since mother died. You've said so vourself.” [To be Continued.] Children Cry for Fletcher's Castoria. Lyon & Co. —_—— nn Lyon & Co. LYON & CO. SPECIAL SALE OF SUMMER DRESS GOODS Owing to the continued cold weather we will have a special sale of all Summer Dress Goods. We are not going to give a large list of catch prices but will make a clean reduction sale on all Sum- mer Washable Goods. Dress Ginghams in imported and domestic; Fig- ured Lawns and Organdies; White Waistings; Em- broidered Swisses in colors. SHIRT WAISTS.—250 Shirt Waists, all made of fine all over embroidery, fine lace insertionand embroidery, open back and front; real values from $2.50 to $3.75, special sale price . . . f$r1g A large assortment of fine washable Coat Suits, in white and colors, for ladies and misses at prices that will make you buy them. SHOES SHOES See our line of fine Summer Shoes. Men's Working Shoes, Men's fine Dress Shoes, Ladies’ Oxford Ties in white, russet, patent leather and vici kid; Children’s Slippers and Oxford Ties in black, white and russet. HOSIERY.—The lar gest assortment of Men's, Ladies’ and Children's Hosiery in black and all colors. NEW MATTINGS NEW CARPETS NEW LINEOLEUMS At special low prices. See our stock and our prices. You will find them the lowest. LYON & COMPANY, 47-12 Fletcher's Castoria. ht Allegheny Bs. Bellefonte, Pa.
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