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house. Hugh's clothes she found neatly packed in a battered portmanteau: John Russell had done the best he could there. A few ancient garments hung in the other bedroom.

"Get all those bedclothes folded up and stow 'em on your lorry, Jeff. You can have any clothes that'11 fit you. Russell's cleared out, and we're going to look after his boy for him. Bring a box back for the crockery. I'll fetch anything I want out on the veranda."

They stripped the house of all but the furniture. Even the poor mattresses were stowed on top of the lorry. Only Hugh's books were discarded; Mrs. Dan remarking that she had no use for a library.

It was a very desolate little house when they had finished. Mrs. Dan looked round the dismantled rooms, glad to have finished her task. Already a heavy silence seemed to brood in each; as though life had gone out of them forever.

"Ugh!" she said. "Nasty little place!" She caught up a blackened kettle and hurried after Jeff.

The Circus was moving. Ahead, on the road, went the riders, making the most of their start to escape the dust of the heavy vehicles. On a day march the caravans went next, Big Dan's blue monster in the lead; but he himself rode for most of the way, waiting until all the procession had left the camping-ground. Crowe, already mounted, was holding his black mare. Big Dan met his wife as she neared the caravan.

"Ready? Where's that boy?"

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