ent now, an' all you can piek up'11 help you later on. An' you'11 find it makes it a lot more interesting if you notice points like that. It wouldn't have entered your head now, would it, that before a clown ambles in with a silly smile he's practiced it for hours before a lookin'-glass?"
"True as you're alive. Not every day, of course, 'cause he's got it fixed; but he's done the mirror practice before he got to being a good clown. Every bit of fooling, all the lovely expressions of the lady riders, everything we call the 'business'—it's all practice. I've seen the Boss take half a morning sendin' a girl in an' out of the ring until she learned to make a good entrance."
"My word!" said Hugh, deeply impressed.
"The older you are, the harder it is to learn those tricks," Jeff said. "But for a kid it's easy, once he learns not to be stiff. What the crowd likes to see is a kid come in lookin' happy. You watch Nita tonight—she just loves her work, so she darts in as if she was going to a picnic. So she is, for her; so it's no effort to her to look it. But the art is to go in feelin' like a funeral an' still be able to keep up the picnic look. That's what a good many of 'ein have to do. Like Mrs. Crowe."
"Does she feel like a funeral?"
"Most times, I guess. She isn't strong, an' she's got a troublesome baby, an' she doesn't get enough sleep. But she's got enough pluck for ten men. You notice her— she rides that big black that the Boss was on today. I say, I'll have to cut!"—and he was gone.