He turned away; she clung to the rough, brown sleeve. “Why, Jim, when I lie in my little room up there at night”--she glanced toward the window above them--“and everything is peaceful and still, I think how it used to be in the old days, the awful noise and the rush of it all, the cheerless wagons, the mob in the tent, the ring with its blazing lights, the whirling round and round on Bingo, and the hoops, always the hoops, till my head got dizzy and my eyes all dim; and then the hurry after the show, and the heat and the dust or the mud and the rain, and the rumble of the wheels in the plains at night, and the shrieks of the animals, and then the parade, the awful, awful parade, and I riding through the streets in tights, Jim! Tights!” She covered her face to shut out the memory. “I couldn't go back to it, Jim! I just couldn't!” She turned away, her face still hidden in her hands. He looked at her a long while in silence. “I didn't know how you'd come to feel about it,” he said doggedly. “You aren't ANGRY, Jim?” She turned to him anxiously, her eyes pleading for his forgiveness. “Angry?” he echoed, almost bitterly. “I guess it couldn't ever come to that a-tween you an' me. I'll be all right.” He shrugged his great shoulders. “It's just kinder sudden, that's all. You see, I never figured on givin' yer up, and when you said you wasn't comin' back, it kinder seemed as though I couldn't see nothin' all my life but long, dusty roads, and nobody in 'em. But it's all right now, and I'll just be gettin' along to the wagon.” “But, Jim, you haven't seen Mr. Douglas,” Polly protested, trying to keep him with her until she could think of some way to comfort him. “I'll look in on him comin' back,” said Jim, anxious to be alone with his disappointment. He was out of the gate before she could stop him. “Hurry back, won't you, Jim? I'll be waiting for you.” She watched him going quickly down the road, his fists thrust into his brown coat pockets, and his hat pulled over his eyes. He did not look back, as he used to do, to wave a parting farewell, and she turned toward the house with a troubled heart. She had reached the lower step when Strong and Elverson approached her from the direction of the church. “Was that feller here to take you back to the circus?” demanded Strong. She opened her lips to reply, but before she could speak, Strong assured her that the congregation wouldn't do anything to stop her if she wished to go. He saw the blank look on her face. “We ain't tryin' to pry into none of your private affairs,” he explained; “but my daughter saw you and that there feller a makin' up to each other. If you're calculatin' to run away with him, you'll save a heap of trouble for the parson by doin' it quick.” “The parson!”