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Updated: May 15, 2025
Mammoth Dagshaw." Mabel looked up coldly from the book she was reading. "Back again already?" she said. "Well, what was it you were saying?" "I was saying," said Luke gaily, "that I hoped you enjoyed your visit to the Dammoth Circus with Mr. Dag Moomshaw." "Port never did agree with you," said Mabel. "You shouldn't take it." She resumed her book. Luke tried the second of the pleasant sentences.
Luke had prepared a series of six pleasant and gratifying things to say about Mr. Doom Dagshaw and the Mammoth Circus. He found himself absolutely unable to say any of them. He could say other things. He could say "Windmill, watermill" ten times over, very quickly, without a mistake. But somehow he could not say Mammoth Circus. Well, at any rate, he might be bright and amusing.
He followed her into the garden. The flowers were cut, and subsequently arranged, in complete silence. He had the feeling that anything he said might not be taken down, but would certainly be used in evidence against him. And then, in the hall, was heard the voice of Mr. Doom Dagshaw, the proprietor of the Mammoth Circus at the Garden Settlement. "Lunch ready? So it ought to be. Don't announce me.
I thought we'd take a holiday together. Like old times, what? We'll go for a nice long walk, and take a packet of sandwiches and " "Oh, don't be silly. I can't possibly go out. Probably Mr. Doom Dagshaw is coming to lunch." "He's a damned sweep," said Luke impulsively, and corrected himself. "I mean to say, he's not a man whose society I'm particularly anxious to cultivate."
"Just a little holiday," said Luke nervously, "a little treat for me. You don't mind?" Doom Dagshaw did not answer him, but turned to Mabel. "Lunch is ready," he said, "let's get on to it." They passed into the dining-room. Luke observing salmon at one end of the table, and cutlets at the other, asked, with a smile, if those two sentences generally ran concurrently.
"Dagshaw always seems to me to be one of those masterful men who sooner or later " He ducked his head just in time, and the book which Mabel had thrown knocked over the vase of flowers behind him. "If you can't let me read in peace," she said, "at any rate, you shan't sneer at my friends. You're always doing it, and everybody notices it. I simply can't understand you. You're like nothing on earth.
"Oh, hold your jaw," said Dagshaw. "That's the way to talk to him," said Mabel approvingly. "Yours, too," Dagshaw added, turning to Mabel. "I'll do any talking that has to be done. I'm here to talk about my circus. Yes, and to eat ham. Isn't any? Ought to be. Give me three of those cutlets. You don't realize what a circus is, you people. It's a church. It's a cathedral. It's more."
Would it be Doom Dagshaw or Major Capstan? Oh, what was he thinking of? Why had he not been put next to Jona? Why did the girl on his right, whom he had never met before, persist in addressing him as Funnyface? Why is a mouse when it spins? The world was full of conundrums. In the garden after lunch, Jona came straight up to him. "We are going to play games," she said. "What games?"
"This will never do," he said to himself. "I must keep it up. I must be pleasant. I must say number one of those six sentences about Doom Dagshaw and the Mammoth Circus, even it if splits my palate and my tongue drops out." He threw down his cigarette, walked firmly into the drawing-room, and closed the door. "Mabel," he said, "I hope you enjoyed your visit to the Doom Circus with Mr.
A sound of uproar, of crashes and loud voices, came up from the street below. "I wonder what that is?" said Luke. "It's Bill, probably. He said he'd call for me." She crossed over to the window and looked out. "Yes, that's Bill. Driving the team of zebras he got from Doom Dagshaw. The horses don't seem to like it. There's a cart and horse just gone in at that draper's window.
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