“Oh,” said Joe, suddenly looking round rather haughtily. “I didn’t want to.” He had a well-balanced head, and could take on a sudden distant bearing. “Didn’t want to—didn’t cotton on, like. Well—_they be artful, the women_—” he mimicked his landlord. “Come on into bed, boy. Don’t loiter about as if you’d lost something.” Albert turned over, to sleep. On Monday Miss Stokes turned up as usual, striding beside her team. Her “whoa!” was resonant and challenging, she looked up at the truck as her steeds came to a standstill. Joe had turned aside, and had his face averted from her. She glanced him over—save for his slender succulent tenderness she would have despised him. She sized him up in a steady look. Then she turned to Albert, who was looking down at her and smiling in his mischievous turn. She knew his aspects by now. She looked straight back at him, though her eyes were hot. He saluted her. “Beautiful morning, Miss Stokes.” “Very!” she replied. “Handsome is as handsome looks,” said Albert. Which produced no response. “Now, Joe, come on here,” said the corporal. “Don’t keep the ladies waiting—it’s the sign of a weak heart.” Joe turned, and the work began. Nothing more was said for the time being. As the week went on all parties became more comfortable. Joe remained silent, averted, neutral, a little on his dignity. Miss Stokes was off-hand and masterful. Albert was full of mischief. The great theme was a circus, which was coming to the market town on the following Saturday. “You’ll go to the circus, Miss Stokes?” said Albert. “I may go. Are you going?” “Certainly. Give us the pleasure of escorting you.” “No, thanks.” “That’s what I call a flat refusal—what, Joe? You don’t mean that you have no liking for our company, Miss Stokes?” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Miss Stokes. “How many are there of you?” “Only me and Joe.” “Oh, is that all?” she said, satirically. Albert was a little nonplussed. “Isn’t that enough for you?” he asked. “Too many by half,” blurted out Joe, jeeringly, in a sudden fit of uncouth rudeness that made both the others stare. “Oh, I’ll stand out of the way, boy, if that’s it,” said Albert to Joe. Then he turned mischievously to Miss Stokes. “He wants to know what M. stands for,” he said, confidentially. “Monkeys,” she replied, turning to her horses. “What’s M.S.?” said Albert. “Monkey-nuts,” she retorted, leading off her team. Albert looked after her a little discomfited. Joe had flushed dark, and cursed Albert in his heart. On the Saturday afternoon the two soldiers took the train into town. They would have to walk home. They had tea at six o’clock, and lounged about till half past seven. The circus was in a meadow near the river—a great red-and-white striped tent. Caravans stood at the side. A great crowd of people was gathered round the ticket-caravan.