Part 12 (1/2)
George Hart of Hilton--will send you the money to-morrow, everything we owe. You shall not steal our things, you wicked woman!”
The woman turned on her with an evil look. ”Highty-tighty!” she said.
”Ain't we fine, miss? I wouldn't talk so free about stealin', after you stealin' our show, sneakin' in and thinkin' you'd get it free. No you don't!” And she caught Sue as she tried to slip past her out of the tent. ”Let's see what you've got, next.”
”Police!” cried Sue. ”Help! police!”
Instantly the woman's hand was over her mouth, and she was held in a grasp of iron.
”You holler ag'in, and I'll strip the clothes off yer back!” she hissed. ”Hold yer tongue, or I'll call Ed. He won't stand no foolin'!”
Sue struggled fiercely, but it was of no use. The woman s.h.i.+fted her easily to one arm, and with the other hand searched her pocket.
”Not even a handkerchief!” she said. ”No jew'lry, neither. Well, your mother's got sense, anyway. Hallo! here's a ring, though. Guess I'll take that. Le' go, sis, or I'll hurt ye.”
”It--it's not my ring!” gasped Sue, shaking her head free. ”It's hers--my friend's. Don't take it!”
”Guess it's mine, now!” said the woman, with a chuckle. She forced back the girl's slender fingers, and drew off the gold mouse-ring.
”There! now you can go, dears; and next time, you take my advice, and get some of your folks to take you to the circus. Ah! and be thankful I've left you them pretty hats. I know a little girl as would be pleased to death with that hat with the feathers; but you might take cold if I let ye go bare-headed, and I'm a mother myself.”
Trembling, half fainting, the girls found themselves outside the tent.
The grounds were well-nigh deserted, all the spectators being gone.
Here and there a group of stragglers leaned on the railings of the neighboring fence, smoking and talking. Rough-looking men were at work about the tents, and some of them looked curiously at the girls as they hurried along. Neither spoke. Clarice was still whimpering and crying under her breath. Sue's eyes were blazing; her cheeks felt on fire. She ran hastily across the grounds, dragging Clarice after her by the hand. She felt every moment as if they might be seized and carried back to that horrible den. Suppose the man should be coming after them now! He might put them in prison, and her mother would never know where she was. She choked back the sob that rose in her throat. On, on, as fast as feet could fly! At last the palings were reached and pa.s.sed. Now they could stop to draw breath, for they were on the highroad, and out of sight of the hated inclosure. Panting, Sue leaned against the fence, and waited till she should have breath enough to speak some word of encouragement to her companion. No one was in sight; there was no sound save the crickets keeping time in the gra.s.s. All was as peaceful and serene as if there were no dreadful things or wicked people in the world. They were not far from the station now, and once in the train for home, with the friendly conductor, who knew her and would take charge of them both--
Then, suddenly, a new thought flashed into Sue's mind, and struck ice into the fever of her blood. How long had they been in that dreadful place? How was it that no one was to be seen going toward the station, of all the throng that had come up with them in the train?
”Clarice!” she gasped. ”I am--afraid--we may miss the train. We must run. It isn't far now. Run as fast as you possibly can!”
Clarice answered with a sob; but she began to run as well as her foolish dress and shoes would let her. But another answer came at that moment: a whistle, long and clear, loud at first, then growing fainter and fainter till it died away. In desperation the girls flew on along the road--to reach the station and find it empty! The long curve of the rails stretched away toward home. The train was gone!
CHAPTER X
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Six o'clock was supper-time in the little town of Chester, so the usual loungers had left the station as soon as the train departed; and by the time the girls arrived it was deserted, even by the ticket-seller. No one was in sight; at least, they saw no one. They were too much absorbed in their trouble to notice two faces that peeped at them for a moment round the corner of the station, and then vanished. They were alone, six miles from home, with no money. What were they to do?
Clarice broke out in tearful reproaches:
”Sue Penrose, you have brought us to this! It is all your fault! I never should have thought of coming up here if it hadn't been for you.”
Sue looked at her, but made no reply. Clarice's eyes dropped under the steady look; she faltered, but hurried on:
”And losing all my money, too! If you hadn't lost my money, I should not have been robbed of my beautiful jewelry--all I had in the world!
and it was worth lots and lots.”
Sue, in bitterness of spirit, thought, ”How about the diamond chain?”
but she said nothing. She felt, suddenly, many years older than Clarice. Was this a girl of fifteen, whimpering like a baby? Was this the friend for whom she had given up Mary?