“Where is she?” shouted the manager, looking from one to the other. “She can't come,” said Jim in a low, steady voice, for he knew the storm of opposition with which Barker would meet the announcement. “Can't come?” shrieked Barker. “Of course she'll come. I can't get along without her. She's GOT to come.” He looked at Jim, who remained silent and firm. “WHY ain't she comin'?” he asked, feeling himself already defeated. “She's hurt bad,” was Jim's laconic reply. “The devil she is!” said Barker, looking at Douglas for confirmation. “Is that right?” “She won't be able to travel for some time,” said Douglas. “Mr. Barker is our manager,” Toby explained, as he edged his way to the pastor's side. “Some time!” Barker looked at Douglas as though he were to blame for their misfortune. “Well, you just bet she will,” he declared menacingly. “See here, Barker, don't you talk to him like that,” said Jim, facing the manager. “He's darned square even if he is a parson.” Barker turned away. He was not a bad-hearted man, but he was irritated and upset at losing the star feature of his bill. “Ain't this my dod-gasted luck?” he muttered to himself, as his eye again travelled to the boss canvas-man. “You get out a' here, Jim,” he shouted, “an' start them wagons. The show's got to go on, Poll or no Poll.” He turned with his hand on the door-knob and jerked out a grudging thanks to the pastor. “It's all fired good of you to take her in,” he said, “but it's tough to lose her. Good night!” He banged the door and clattered down the steps. Jim waited. He was trying to find words in which to tell his gratitude. None came; and he turned to go with a short “good-bye!” “Good night, Jim,” said the pastor. He crossed the room and took the big fellow's hand. “Much obliged,” Jim answered gruffly. It was his only polite phrase, and he had taught Polly to say it. Douglas waited until Jim had passed down the steps, then turned to Toby, who still lingered near the table. “You'll tell her how it was, me and Jim had to leave her without sayin' 'good-bye,' won't you, sir?” Toby pleaded. “Yes, indeed,” Douglas promised. “I'll jes' put this little bit o' money into her satchel.” He picked up the little brown bag that was to have been Polly's birthday gift. “Me an' Jim will be sendin' her more soon.” “You're going to miss her, I'm afraid,” Douglas said, feeling an irresistible desire to gain the old man's confidence. “Lord bless you, yes, sir,” Toby answered, turning upon him eagerly. “Me an' Jim has been father an' mother and jes' about everythin' to that little one. She wan't much bigger'n a handful of peanuts when we begun a-worryin' about her.” “Well, Mandy will do the worrying now,” Douglas laughed. “She's been dying for a chance to mother somebody all along. Why, she even tried it on me.” “I noticed as how some of those church people seemed to look kinder queer at me,” said Toby, “and I been a-wonderin' if mebbe they might feel the same about her.”