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"Did I wake my girl, then?" Big Dan's voice was penitent. "I was just telling Muramy a yarn. You go off to sleep." He patted her gently until her eyelids closed, and then went back, on tiptoe, avoiding his wife's glance as he got out his pipe. Mrs. Dan, having stowed away the supper things, was knitting busily. A dimple lurked near her mouth.

"Well, she knocked 'em in the ring today, didn't she?" he said. "Both houses—specially the evening, of course. She does handle that new pony pretty, don't she? I wish there was another youngster in the Circus nearer her size: I could fix up a good act for a pair."

"Eddie Pratt's too big, I s'pose."

"Too big, and not class enough. He'11 never have good hands if he lives to be a hundred. Don't like that boy. Thinks too much of himself, and he's too free with his tongue. Always very meek and mild when I'm about, but I hear him cheeking other people. I'm not keen on him being much with Nita."

"It isn't easy to keep them apart," said Mrs. Dan. "They're the only children, you see. And he's not a bad youngster, Dan."

"Oh, you'd never admit that any one wasn't a whitened sepulcher," said Dan, obscurely. "Anyhow, he's not good enough for our girl, and I'll keep my eye on him." He put up his feet on the couch and smoked luxuriously. "Best day we've had this tour, Polly: pretty well full both times. You'11 be getting that gold watch I promised you if it goes on like this."

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