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Teddy watched the proceedings narrowly from the safe vantage point of the deck. In the meantime Phil had gone to Mr. Sparling's cabin, where the showman was checking up the day's receipts. "A pretty good day, Phil," smiled Mr. Sparling. "I am glad to hear that, sir." "Two thousand dollars in the clear, as the result of our two performances today.
He was followed, a few paces behind, by Bad Eye. Mr. Sparling's stern, judicial eyes were fixed upon them. He demanded to hear from them their version of the affair, which Larry related, leaving out all mention of his having ducked Teddy. His story agreed in the main details with what Phil already had said, excepting that Larry's recital threw the blame on Teddy and Phil. Mr.
Phil, at that moment, was up forward in Mr. Sparling's car, else he would have tried to stop the train; or, failing to do that, he would have gone to his companion's assistance. By this time Teddy had turned and was bracing his back against the Fat Woman, his heels digging into the shifting cinders in a desperate attempt to prevent the woman's slipping further down. "You'll have to do something.
Sparling's house, about four miles distant from the city and near the convalescent hospital which at this time had also sick men in it, the whole number of patients amounting to 800. I found everything prepared for my comfort and convenience. Mr.
Wing declared to me in this letter that Juliet Sparling's relation to him had been absolutely innocent, that he had persecuted her with his suit, and she had never given him a friendly word, except out of fear.
Some of the show people strolled out through the little town, while others remained on board the boat and went to bed. All hands slept aboard that night. Bright and early, on the following morning, the boats were unloaded and the tents pitched, the men working much better for their day on the river. Everyone appeared to be in high good humor and the wisdom of Mr. Sparling's methods was apparent.
By this time Teddy, his face red and resentful, was poking his head from beneath the table. "Hey, Rube!" he shouted, then ducked back again. Phil understood instantly that this was one of Mr. Sparling's surprises. But there were still other surprises to come. No sooner had the band taken up its position than there was again a commotion out in the hall.
This elicited roars of laughter from the spectators, while the school boys and girls waved their crimson and white class flags wildly. The whole class was there as the guests of the management of the show. This was one of Mr. Sparling's surprises, but not the only one he was to give them that night.
He stood before her, smiting one hand against another, to emphasize his words, as he continued: "Francis Wing lived for some eighteen years after Mrs. Sparling's death. Then, just as the police were at last on his track as the avengers of a long series of frauds, he died at Antwerp in extreme poverty and degradation.
The robbery of the sister's money the incredible rapidity of Juliet Sparling's deterioration had set them against her. Her wild beauty, her proud and dumb misery in the dock, were of a kind rather to alienate the plain man than to move him. They believed her capable of anything and it was natural enough.
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