riding."

"Cæsar!" cried Mrs. Gallito excitedly. "Lord! don't I remember! I
learned to ride on him."

"Yes," mused the manager, "all I recall of that circus is her and my two
nickels. I broke my bank to get 'em. They seemed a fortune to me; but
even then I was a shrewd kid and meant to get my money's worth.
Well--the first one I laid out in a great tall glass of lemonade. Say,
that was the first time I came up against the disillusions of life.
Nothing but a little sweetened water. The next nickel went for peanuts,
and they were too stale for even a kid to chew."

"Ain't that just like a young one at the circus!" Mrs. Gallito laughed
loudly.

"What's the joke, mom?" drawled a lazy, sliding, soft voice on the
other side of her.

"A circus story, honey. Oh!" as the sudden formal silence recalled her
to her duty. "I forget. You two ain't been introduced, have you? Pearl,
make you acquainted with Mr. Hanson. He's in the show business."

Pearl bowed without lifting her eyes, giving Hanson ample opportunity to
note the incredible length, as it seemed to him, of the upcurling lashes
upon her smooth cheeks. But just as he bent forward to speak to her, she
half-turned from him and said something to one of the men beside her.

The manager's quickness saved him. He was perfectly aware of all those
jealous masculine eyes, flickering now with repressed and delighted