Deerhurst was deserted.

With a down-sinking heart old Ephraim had watched the last of the merry-makers vanish through the gateway, even gray haired Hans and Griselda joining their fellow employees on this trip to the circus. The watcher’s disappointment was almost more than he could bear. His love of junketing was like a child’s and for many days, as he drove his bays about the countryside, he had gloated over the brilliant posters which heralded the coming of “The Greatest Show on Earth.” He had even invited Aunt Malinda to accompany him at his expense, and now she had gone but he was left.

“Hmm. It do seem pow’ful ha’d on me, hit sutney do. But—if all dem folkses is suspicionin’ ’t ole Eph’aim is a t’ief—My lan’, a T’IEF! Not a step Ah steps to no ca’yins’ on, scusin dey fin’s Ah isn’t. If my Miss Betty was to home! Oh! fo’ my Miss Betty! She’s gwine tole dese yeah Pa’ty folks somepin’ when she comes ma’chin’ in de doah. Dey ain’ no suspicions ertwixt my Miss Betty an’ me.”

His thoughts having taken this course Ephraim found some comfort. Then the responsibility of his position forced itself to mind. No, he couldn’t go stretch himself on the back porch in the September sunshine and sleep just yet. Though it was against all custom and tradition in that honest locality, he would lock up the whole house. He would begin at the front door and fasten every window and entrance even to the scullery. There should nothing more be missing, and no more suspicion fixed on a poor old man. He didn’t yet know who had set the miserable idea afloat in the beginning, and he didn’t dream of its being Dorothy. He had found himself strangely questioned by the other servants and had met curious glances from the visitors in the house. Finally, a stable lad had suddenly propounded the inquiry:

“What did you do with that money, anyway, Ephy? If you don’t hand it back pretty soon there’ll be trouble for you, old man.”

He had returned indignant inquiries himself, at last worming the whole matter out; and then, with almost bursting heart, had gone to Seth Winters with his trouble. The farrier had comforted as best he could, had assured the old negro of his own utmost faith in him, but—he could not explain the absence of the money and his assurances had been of small avail.

Whenever he was alone poor Ephraim brooded over the matter. He now avoided his fellow workers as much as he could. His appetite failed, his nights were sleepless, and Dinah impressively declared that: “He’s yeitheh been hoodooed or he stole dat money.” She was inclined to accept the first possibility, but with the superstition of her race felt that one was about as derogatory as the other. So nobody, except Mr. Winters, had been very sorry to have him stay behind on this occasion when jollity and not low spirits was desirable.

At last when all was secure, the care-taker retired to his bench and his nap, and had been enjoying himself thus for an hour or so, when the sound of wheels and somebody’s “Whooa-a!” aroused him.

“Ah, friend! Can thee afford to waste time like this?” demanded a blandly reproving voice; and Ephraim opened his eyes to behold George Fox and his owner reined up before him. He knew that equipage and wondered to see it at Deerhurst, whose mistress, he knew, had scant liking for the miller.

“Yes, sah. I’se reckon Ah c’n afford hit; bein’ mo’ inclined to take mah rest ’an to go rampagin’ eroun’ to circuses an’ such. On yo’ way dar, sah?”

“I? I! On my way to a circus? Thee must know little of a Friend’s habits to accuse me of such frivolity. Where is that Seth Winters?” asked Oliver Sands, well knowing what the answer would be and having timed his visit with that knowledge.

“He’s done gone to de Show, sah. He natchally injoys a good time. Yes, sah, he’s one mighty happy ole man, Massa Seth Winters is, sah.”

“One mighty——” began the miller then checked himself. “I came—but thee will answer just as well. I’d like to inspect that new barn Elisabeth Calvert has put up; and, if thee will, show me through her house as well. I’ve heard of its appointments and Dorcas, my wife, is anxious to learn of the range in the kitchen. Thee knows that women——”

Again the visitor paused, suggestively, and Ephraim reflected for a moment. He knew that his Miss Betty was the soul of hospitality and might upbraid him if he refused to show a neighbor through the premises. Even strangers sometimes drove into the park and were permitted to inspect the greenhouses and even some of the mansion’s lower rooms. He had heard such visitors rave over the “old Colonial” appointments and knew that Deerhurst’s mistress had been secretly flattered by this admiration.

Ah! but that was before this dreadful thing had happened! When—before somebody had stolen, some unknown thief had been within those walls!

“Well, sah, Ah is sutney sorry but, sah, when I’se lef’ to care-take, sah, I care-takes. Some uddah time, when Miss Betty done be yeah, sah, sutney, sah——”

The negro’s exaggerated courtesy affronted Oliver Sands. It was not his policy to contest the point, and if he had fancied he could persuade this loyal care-taker to admit him that he might search the house as he had searched many other houses of late, he silently admitted his own mistake and drove away with no further word than: “Gid-dap, George Fox!”

But he drove home with head on breast and a keen disappointment in his heart; which expressed itself in a stern rebuke to his wife as he entered her kitchen and met her timid, inquiring glance:

“Thee has maggots in thy head, Dorcas Sands. I advise thee to get rid of them.”

She might have retorted with equal truth: “So is thee maggotty, Oliver, else would thee do openly that which should bring thee peace.”

But being a dutiful wife she kept silence, though she brooded many things in her tender heart; and the incident passed without further comment than Seth Winters’s ambiguous remark, when Ephraim told of the miller’s call: “So the leaven is working, after all.”

But while this trivial affair was happening at Deerhurst, the train had swiftly carried the household to the hill-city a few miles up the river; and almost before they were comfortably settled in the crowded car, the conductor was announcing: “Newburgh next! All out for Newburgh!”

“Here we are! And here’s our stage! We’ve chartered a whole one to carry us up the hill. A hard climb and no time to lose!” called out a boyish voice and Herbert’s tall shoulder shoved a path through the throng. “There’s another empty over yonder, if the ‘help’ speak quick enough!”

But Aunt Malinda standing bewildered and Dinah indignantly correcting somebody for jostling her, rather delayed this operation; so, at a nod from the Master, Jim Barlow made a bee line for the vehicle and stoutly held it as “engaged!” against all comers.

“It’s a case of every man for himself!” laughed Monty, squeezing his fat body toward the group of girls which was standing apart, amazed and somewhat dismayed by the press of people. “Oh! Don’t get worried, Molly, by a little jam like this. Wait till you see the grounds. I declare it seems as if everybody between New York and Albany had come to the ‘Show.’ It is a big one, I guess, and the Parade was fine. Sorry we didn’t bring all of you, pillion, old-style, so you could have seen it, too.”

“Monty, stop! It’s cruelty to girls to harrow up their feelings that way! As if we didn’t all think ‘pillion’ and long to suggest it, only our diffidence prevailed. But come! Mr. Seth has piloted the servants to their stage and is waiting for us!” answered Molly Breckenridge and was the first to spring up the narrow steps at the rear of the rickety omnibus and run to its innermost corner, where she extended her arms to receive her “son” whom she had kept in charge during the ride in the car. The other Molly had passed him on to her, he submitting in wide-eyed astonishment at all the novelty of this trip. Helena held Sapphira as closely, and Dorothy’s arm was tightly clasped about Luna’s waist, who, oddly enough, was the least affrighted of them all.

“Won’t the horses be afraid? Supposin’ they should run away!” cried Molly Martin, who had seldom been in the town and never on such an occasion as this.

“Pooh! Them horses won’t run ’less they’re prodded into it. They look as if they’d been draggin’ stages up and down these hills all their lives and never expected to do anything else,” answered Alfaretta, quickly. “Don’t you get scared, Molly, I ain’t.”

Indeed, of all that happy party Alfaretta was, maybe, the happiest. Her face was one continual smile and her chatter touched upon everything they passed with such original remarks that she kept them all laughing. Seth beamed upon her from his place beside Luna, and was himself delighted to see that Dorothy was now as gay as any of the others. For the time being any worries she had had were forgotten; and it was she who exclaimed in astonishment, as they came to the grounds and climbed out of the stage:

“‘Do I wake or am I dreaming’! If there isn’t Miss Penelope Rhinelander! and Miss Greatorex is with her! True, true! Who’d ever believe they’d come to a circus!”

“Reckon they’d say they did it to study natural history—elephants and things!” laughed Molly, waving her hand vigorously to attract the attention of her old teachers.

But they did not see her, so occupied were they in endeavoring to be of a crowd and yet not in it.

“Shucks! There’s Dr. Sterling! That I worked for last year and went trampin’ with last summer! Who’d ha’ believed a minister would go to a circus!” now almost shouted Jim Barlow.

“Why, I would, laddie. I’ll warrant you that every grown-up in the town who has a child friend he can make an excuse of to bring here has done it! Funny they should offer excuses, when there isn’t a man or woman but, at sound of a circus band, remembers their childhood and longs to attend one once more. For myself, I prefer a good, old-fashioned ‘show’ to the finest opera going. The one touches my heart, the other my head. But here we are, and Miss Helena, I see you’re beginning to perk up, now you find yourself in such good company.”

For he had overheard that young lady, despite her morning’s resolution to “do just as the rest did and forget it was silly,” remark to Mabel Bruce in confidence that:

“If I’d known, even dreamed, that we should have to mix with such a rabble, I should have stayed at Deerhurst!”

This was when they had had to scramble for their stage; and Mabel had affectedly replied:

“Me too. My folks never do like to have me make myself common; and this organdie dress will be torn to ribbons.”

Seth had smiled then, overhearing, and bided his time. Well he understood how one emotion can sway an entire crowd, and he but waited till they should have arrived to see even these contemptuous lassies catch the “circus spirit.” So he couldn’t resist this little jest at Helena’s expense, which she took now in great good nature; by then they had come to the entrance to the big tent where the chief performance would be given.

This entrance was guarded by a wooden stile, from which a narrow canvas-covered passage led to the inner door. At the stile tickets were sold, and these were in turn taken up by the collector at the end of the passage which opened directly into the tent.

“Speaking of crowds! Was ever such another one as this!” gasped Melvin Cook, as he found himself in the swirl of persons seeming to move in two directions, as, indeed, they were. Then he looked around for his friends and to his consternation saw Molly Breckenridge tossed to and fro in a hopeless effort to extricate herself, and that she held one of the twins by hand, till suddenly the child fell beneath the very feet of the crowding adults.

“My baby! Oh! O-oh!” screamed Molly, and an instant’s halt followed, but the jam was to be immediately resumed.

Fortunately, however, that instant had been sufficient for tall Jim Barlow to stoop and lift the child on high.

“Hang on to me, Molly! I’ll kick and jam a way through. ’Twill be over in a minute, soon’s we get to the inside and have—you—got—your ticket?”

“Ye-e-es! But—but—I’ll never come to a circus—again—never—never——”

“You haven’t got to this one yet,” returned Jim, breathlessly. Then he discovered Mr. Winters standing inside the tent, and extending his arms to receive the uplifted little one which Jim at once tossed forward like a ball.

At last they were all inside. The Master had been more fortunate in piloting his especial charges, Luna and Sapphira, through that struggling mob; but it was in a tone of deep disgust that he now exclaimed:

“Oh! the selfishness of human nature! A moment’s delay, a touch of courtesy, and such scenes would be avoided. The struggle for ‘first place,’ to better one’s self at the expense of one’s neighbor, is an ugly thing to witness.”

“But, Teacher, when you get in such a place you have to just do like the rest and act piggish, too,” said Alfaretta. “I guess I know now how ’t one them panics that you read about, sometimes, could happen. If one them jammers went crazy, or scared, all the rest would too, likely.”

“Exactly, Alfaretta. But, let’s think of pleasanter things. Let’s follow James.”

After all, though Mr. Winters had doubted there would be, the lad had secured reserved seats and on “the front row near the entrance,” just as that gentleman had desired; so presently, they had arranged themselves upon the low-down bench where, at least, their feet could touch bottom; and where with a comical air the farrier immediately began to sniff the familiar odor of fresh turned sod covered with sawdust, and turning to his next neighbor remarked:

“I think I’m nine years old, to-day, nine ‘goin’ on’ ten.”

But his facetiousness was wasted upon sedate Jane Potter; who did not even smile but reflected:

“If that old man’s going to talk silly I’ll change places with Alfaretta. And if the performance isn’t to begin right away I’ll just walk around and look at the animals’ cages.”

She did this, laying her handkerchief and jacket on her vacated seat, though her host called after her:

“You may not be able to get your place again, in such a crowd.”

However, if she heard she did not turn back and was presently out of sight in the line of promenaders continually passing. Also, his own face grew sober at the sound of thunder, and he clasped his arm more protectingly around Luna’s waist, who sat on his other side, and counselled Dorothy, just beyond:

“Do you and Molly keep close care of the twins. There’s a storm brewing and timid people may stampede past us toward the door.”

“Why, would anybody be afraid in a big tent like this?” asked Dolly, surprised.

“Some might. But—Hark! Hooray! Here we come!”

The band which had been playing all the time now broke into a more blatant march, a gaily accoutred “herald” galloped forth from a wide opening at the rear of the tent, then turned his steed about to face that opening, waving his staff and curveting about in the most fantastic manner. Then the silence of expectation fell upon that mass of humanity, the promenaders settling into any seats available, warned by men in authority not to obstruct the view of those on the lower benches.

As a cavalcade of horses appeared Mr. Winters looked anxiously down into Luna’s face. To his surprise it showed no interest in the scene before her but was fast settling into its habitual drowsiness.

“Well, after all, that’s best. We could not leave her behind and I feared she would be frightened;” he observed to Dorothy.

“Yes, I’m glad, too. Keep still, ’Phira! You must keep still, else you may be hurt. Wait. I’ll take you on my lap, as Molly has ’Nias. Now—see the pretty horses?” answered Dorothy, and involuntarily shivered as a fresh thunderclap fell on her ears.

Alfaretta leaned forward to remark:

“It’s begun to rain! But isn’t it cute to be under a tent and just let it rain! Ah! My soul! Ain’t they beautiful? Look, girls, look, them first ones is almost here! A-ah! them clowns! And monkeys—to the far end there’s real monkeys ridin’ on Shetland ponies! Oh! my heart and soul and body! I’m so glad I come!”

She finished her comments, standing up and swaying wildly from side to side, till somebody from the rear jabbed her shoulders with an umbrella point, loudly commanding: “Down front! Down front!”

She dropped into her seat with a shriek, which somebody somewhere promptly caught up and echoed, while at that same instant a flash of lightning illuminated even that interior which had grown so strangely dark, and on the instant came a terrific crash.

Another woman screamed, and Seth Winters’s face paled. He knew how very little it would now take to start a panic. But the band played the louder, the performers went round and round the great ring, the clowns frolicked and the monkeys pranked, and he inwardly blessed the discipline which kept every player to his post, as if such electric storms were every day incidents.

“What are those men doing to the roof?” suddenly demanded Molly Martin of her neighbor, James, calling his attention to the sagging canvas and the employees hurrying hither and thither to lift it on the points of great poles. Then would follow a splash of water down the slope from the central supporting pole of that flimsy roof, dashing off at the scalloped edges upon the surrounding ground.

“Water’s heavy. I guess they’re afraid it’ll break and douse the people. Hi! But that was a teaser! It don’t stop a minute and it’s getting blacker’n ink. Never heard such a roar and it don’t let up a second. They’ll have to stop the performance till it slacks up, and—What fools these folks are that’s hurrying out into that downpour!”

“Maybe—maybe—they’re safer outside. Rain won’t hurt—much—but circus tents are sometimes blown down—I’ve read——”

“Now come, Alfy Babcock, just hold your tongue! Rough way to speak but I mean it. Hear what the Master said? How it was mighty easy to start a panic but impossible to stop one, or nigh so? Everyone that keeps still and behaves helps to make somebody else do it. Here, boy, fetch them peanuts this way? Dip in, Alfy, I’ll treat, and I see the lemonade feller’s headed this way, too. Whilst we’re waitin’ we might as well——”

Even Jim’s philosophy was put to the test just then, for with a peanut half-way to his lips his hand was arrested by another terrific crash and the swishing tear of wet canvas.