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Sparling?" asked Phil, stepping up to the owner of the show, who, hatless, coatless, his hair looking as if it had not been combed in days, was giving orders in sharp, short sentences, answering questions and shouting directions almost in the same breath. "Oh, is that you, Phil?" "It is myself, sir," smiled the lad. "How are you getting along?" "Much better than I had hoped.
Sparling jumped out of the carriage, and, ordering a rider to dismount, took the latter's horse, on which he, too, rode back to the lot with all speed. Phil pulled himself together. Half a block further on the people, espying him, did laugh as Mr. Sparling had said they would. Phil grinned out of sheer sympathy.
Sparling was bending over Teddy, who lay doubled up against the pilot house. "Is he hurt?" "I don't know. I'll tell you when I get him untangled. He seems to be standing on his head. Lucky if his neck isn't broken." "Teddy's neck is too tough to be easily broken. I think he is merely stunned," said Phil.
"I haven't any diamonds," said Diana, quietly, "or any jewels at all, except a string of pearls papa gave me when I was nineteen, and two or three little things we bought in Florence." Fanny Merton grew still redder; she stared aggressively at her cousin: "Well that was because Aunt Sparling sold all the things!" Diana started and recoiled.
"Now then," he said, gently, "I am in a position to put the matter to you finally, as before God it appears to me. Juliet Sparling as I said to Oliver last night was not a bad woman!
"If he rides the way I think he can, I'm going to get him away from Sparling if I have to double the wages he's drawing now. And money talks!" The band began to play in the big top. Phil glanced at the showman. "When do I go on?" "Second number." The lad nodded, and sat awaiting his turn to enter the arena. He did not have to ask when the moment had arrived.
The Circus Boy hurried over to the dressing tent, full of curiosity and anticipation of what awaited him on the morrow. Strange to say, Phil had not the least idea what the plan of the owner of the show might be. The surprise was to be a complete one. "Come, Phil and Teddy. I want you to take a little walk with me," called Mr. Sparling early next morning after they had finished their breakfast.
Ease off there, Bill. Push, Patsy. What do you think this is a game of croquet? There you go. Right. Now let's see if you woodenheads know enough to keep the wagon right side up." Mr. Sparling took off his hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, while Phil stood off calmly surveying the men who were straightening the wagon, but with more caution than they had exercised before.
In his enthusiasm he overshot the mat, and had there not been a performer handy to catch him, the lad might have been seriously hurt. Mr. Sparling shook his head. "Lucky if he doesn't break his neck! But that kind seldom do," the owner said out loud. Now the helpers were bringing the elephants up.
Phil was making a round of calls that afternoon, so he decided that he would next visit Mr. Sparling, having seen him only a moment, and that while others were around. "May I come in?" he asked. "Yes; what do you want?" "To thank you for your kindness." "Didn't I tell you never to thank me for anything?" thundered the showman. "I beg your pardon, sir; I'll take it all back," twinkled Phil.
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