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rider, whom the posters called Signora di Tutti—"she's got the crossest baby you ever saw!" There was Pazo, the tamer, a big, dark fellow, seamed on one cheek from a long-ago encounter with a lion. That very tall man with a melancholy face was Joey, the chief clown; there were two others, one being Toby, who was a dwarf "but Toby never gets up until he's hungry." The lean, agile-looking men with bright handkerchiefs knotted round their necks, were the Italian trapeze-artists. Those girls laughing down by the creek, smoking cigarettes, were riders and tumblers. Hugh regarded them with amazement, for in those days very few women smoked. That tall, dark man was Mr. Crowe, Daddy's second-incommand: the lad with him rode the bucking bullock and went over the high jump. He could ride the worst horse any one ever put a bridle on.

"What does that boy do?" asked Hugh, pointing.

"Eddie Pratt? Oh, he rides, and he hands things for the jugglers, and does odd jobs. He's not as good as he thinks he is. Daddy wouldn't have him only Mr. Pratt does all the business part, and Mrs. Pratt's wardrobe-mistress." She had to explain what this meant. Hugh learned that to keep performers smart was a busy job for a needlewoman.

"I play with Eddie, gen'lly," remarked Nita. "When there's time. But he won't come near me today: he's wild 'cause I've got you." She favored him with a smile. "I like you better'n Eddie. He thinks he's nearly grownup—he smokes on the sly. I did too, once, but I was