At the Little Brown House

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE CIRCUS AND THE MISSIONARY

  "Oh, look, Allee! See the elephants and lions and giraffes and zebras onthat poster. It's the cirkis as sure as I'm alive! Do you know I'vealways wanted to see the cirkis, and this is the first time I ever knewone to stop at Parker."

  "How do you know it will stop here?" asked skeptical Allee, who was justbeginning to read, and found the long words on the billboard too muchfor her to master.

  "'Cause it says so. Parker, the eighteenth, Allee. Just think, that'sonly next Saturday! Just a week from today! Isn't it lucky it's onSaturday? Do you s'pose we can go?"

  "I 'xpect it will take money for that just like it does for everythingelse," answered the blue-eyed baby with a comically philosophical air;"and you know Gail never has any for such things as that."

  "Well, this is cheaper than most things, 'cause it says 'a-dultstwenty-five cents, and children fifteen cents.' The Fair cost half adollar for a-dults and twenty-five cents for children. If there is achance to go to anything cheap, we better try hard to go, Allee, forthat doesn't happen often."

  "Maybe Gail might not like to have us go even if we could get themoney."

  "She does have some queer notions about places, doesn't she? At firstshe didn't want us to see that moving picture show at the church, butwhen Brother Strong went and took us, she thought it was all right.We'll ask about the cirkis before we tell her that it's coming, andmaybe we can find out that way whether she would let us go."

  "I don't think we would have to ask much, 'cause she thinks cirkises arebad, and I don't b'lieve she would like to have us there."

  "What makes you so sure? I never have heard her say a thing about them."

  "She told Hope so the time Hope wanted to see '_Julio and Romiet_' whenthey studied it in school."

  "That wasn't a cirkis, that was a theatre, Allee. That's different. Ittakes painted people to play out the words in the theatre, but at thecirkis only real animals act, and do tricks that take brains to learn.Why, this picture shows a nelephant beating a drum. Now, elephants livein the _jumbles_ of Africa, Hope says, and they don't have drums to beatthere. Hunters go to their houses and catch them and teach them how todrum, 'cause they have brains enough to learn. Look at that lion withits mouth open and that woman with her head chucked clear inside. Shemust like to be licked better'n I do. It makes me shiver when Towzersticks his big, hot tongue on my face. Ugh! S'posing the lion shouldshut his mouth and bite her head off, what do you guess she'd do?"

  "I guess they'd have to get another woman for the lion," answered Allee."I don't b'lieve those animals really do those things, do you, Peace?"

  "Yes, I do. Why, that book of natural history that Hector lent us afterhe got licked for stealing the melons tells about the way hunters trainthem to act in cirkises. I'd like to see them awfully much myself."

  "Then let's ask Gail. She _might_ have a little spare money."

  "No, I don't think she would. We'll have to earn the money ourselves,but I'm afraid she won't want us to go. That's what is bothering me. Itell you what let's do. We'll earn the money first and buy our tickets,and then I'm sure she will let us go. Shall we?"

  "Maybe that would be the best way. But how'll we earn the money? It'sonly a week from now, you said yourself, and that won't leave us muchtime to do anything, 'specially as school keeps 'most all day long.There ain't any strawberries to pick or blackberries to sell or snow tosweep or--"

  "Let's give a nentertaimnent in our barn like Hec and the boys did lastweek in their carriage-shed. They charged a cent apiece, and earnedmore'n a quarter, Hec told me. And I know we could give a betterentertainment than they did. You could sing and Cherry could speak.Perhaps we could coax Hope to read to us. She does it splendidly, thoughusu'ly she thinks she's too big to play with us any longer. I am prettysure Hec would turn summersets for us. He has been quite respectablesince that last licking the Judge gave him. Jimmy Jones would likelyplay the bones for us, too, if Hec asked him to. They don't make apretty noise, but it's a sight to see his hands fly. Tessie is learningthe fiddle and I know she'd be glad to show off, and so would Effie, ifwe could get our organ out into the barn."

  "And you can whistle," put in Allee, all excitement as Peace unfoldedher brilliant plan. "You sound just like the birds, and Gail said onlythe other night that you did better than lots of people who have takenlessons. But do you s'pose she will let us have the organ? Do you s'poseshe'll even let us have the barn? It is in an awful clutter, and I don'tsee where we could put the people who come."

  "I was wondering about that myself, but it won't do any harm to ask.There is Hec. We can find out from him right away if he will be one ofour show."

  "Shall you tell him about the cirkis?"

  "No, not a word. We'll have that as just a secret among our two selvesuntil we see how much money we can earn. See?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't you tell a soul!"

  "Of course I won't!"

  "Hector, wait a minute! We want to see you. Say, will you be in anentertainment me and Allee are getting up in our barn?"

  The boy looked somewhat surprised at this request, for Peace had beenvery slow in accepting his friendly advances, though he had showered herwith every possible attention ever since the day of the double tragedyin their breakfast room, owing to certain forceful remarks made by hisirate parent. Here was an opportunity not to be disregarded, but with agreat show of indifference, he leisurely faced the two conspirators, andlazily drawled out, "What kind of an entertainment?"

  "One to make a little money," Peace answered briefly.

  "What for?"

  "'Cause I need it," was the very satisfactory reply.

  "How much do you expect to make?"

  "You said you got more'n a quarter, didn't you?"

  "Yep. Twenty-eight cents."

  "Then I think we ought to get more'n fifty cents, 'cause we mean to havea _good_ program."

  Hector felt as if a dash of cold water had suddenly struck his face, buthe was quite accustomed to Peace's characteristics by this time, so didnot resent her implied doubtful compliment, but asked, with somewhatmore of interest in his manner, "Who's going to be in it?"

  "Tessie and Effie and Cherry and Allee--"

  "And Peace is to whistle," put in the small cherub with sisterlyloyalty.

  "Aw, a girls' crowd! There ain't any boys in it."

  "You'll make one if you will turn summersets. And we thought you mightget Jimmie to play the bones for us, and p'r'aps Lute Dunbar might bringover his accordian. I b'lieve Mike O'Hara would speak that Irish pieceof his that makes folks laugh so much, and maybe we could get theminister to stand on his head. He does that elegant. Whenever I visitthere, that's the first thing I ask him for, and he nearly always doesit, too."

  "Whoop-ee!" shouted Hector, turning a handspring. "I know a _boy_ thatstands on his head, and he will do it any time I ask him to. Mr. Strongprob'ly wouldn't in front of a big crowd like you'd have in your barn.The Sherrars are coming down from Martindale Monday to stay a whole weekwith us, and Victor plays the cornet to beat the band. He's a littlebigger'n us, but he will do anything for Cecile, and I'll get her to askhim. What'll you do for chairs at your place?"

  "I don't know," Peace confessed. "Maybe Gail won't even let us havethe barn, but I think she will. We must give it this week, beforenext Saturday, I mean, 'cause that's the time we have to have themoney--" She stopped abruptly, fearing that he would guess her secret,but he showed no trace of suspicion, so with freer breath she continued,"I'm going home now and see Gail. I think Wednesday or Thursday afterschool would be the best time, don't you? Then if it should rain, wewould still have another day left before Saturday. It won't take us longto get ready, seeing we each do our part all alone."

  "Yes," agreed Hector, with unusual readiness, "I think Wednesday will beall right, and I'll get up the tickets for you."

  "Goody! You might get them ready while I go see Gail. I'll be rightback."

  She an
d Allee disappeared up the road in a cloud of dust and Hectorrepaired to his home to manufacture the bits of cardboard necessary foradmission to the wonderful entertainment. It was an hour later thatPeace appeared at the Judge's door and asked to see the young gentlemanof the house, but it required no words from her to tell him that hererrand had been fruitless.

  "She won't let you give the entertainment!" he said, the instant he sawher woe-begone face.

  "She doesn't care about the entertainment at all, but she won't let ushave the barn, and here I've been and asked Effie and Tessie and Mike,and they all promised to take part. Oh, dear! I did want that money sobad!"

  "Are you sure Gail won't care if you give the entertainment?" Hectorstood in considerable awe of the big girls at the little brown house,and he wanted to run no risks in the daring plan his own brain hadsuddenly evolved.

  "No, she doesn't care a single speck. She said we could give it in theorchard, but then anyone could come and look on without having to pay acent, and I can't get my money at all."

  "Yes, you can. We will give the entertainment in our carriage-shed ifyou'll divide the money with me, Peace. Course if I furnish the buildingI've a right to _part_ of the money."

  "But half is quite a lot," demanded the girl with some hesitation. "See,I've _got_ to make at least thirty cents for Allee and me, and I wantedfifteen cents more for Cherry."

  "We could have Cecile's old organ in the shed," said Hector, ignoringher objections for the moment; "and there is a big lantern hanging fromthe roof, so we could light it if it got dark before we were through. Wehad better light it anyway, I guess, and draw the curtains so no oneoutside can see. Then everyone who wants to hear the program will _have_to buy a ticket. If we get up such a swell entertainment, Peace, it isworth more'n a cent. Let's charge two for a nickel; then if we can getfifty people to come it will give us each quite a neat little pile outof it. What do you say?"

  "I--don't--think--many folks would buy at such a high price," saidPeace, doubtfully, though the picture he drew was very alluring.

  "Why, of course they will for such a bang-up program as we'll give them.Mamma and Cecile and Mrs. Sherrar and Frances will go; and Nancy andMarie, the girls. That makes six right there. Of course we can't chargeVictor anything if he takes part. I bet Miss Truesdale would buy aticket, too. You ask her, or get Allee to. Allee is in her room now. Theminister and his family are coming over some night for dinner while theSherrars are here, and I'll get mamma to invite them Wednesday, and youtell them to come early enough for the program. They'll be glad to. Mr.Strong was here the day we boys had our time in the carriage shed, andhe clapped and stamped the loudest of anyone."

  "Have you written the tickets yet?"

  "No, just cut them."

  "Well, that's good. We'll charge a nickel for two tickets, and give itin your shed next Wednesday. Get to work now. I've just thought ofMontie Fry and his trick dog, and Dick Sullivan and his mouth-organ. Iam going right over and see if they will take part."

  She was as good as her word, and when the following Wednesday afternoonarrived it would have been hard to tell which was the largest, theaudience in the carriage shed, or the company of participants arrangedon the platform which Leonard had built for just such gatherings; butevery one of the fifty tickets had been sold, and late arrivals had topresent cash, at the door, where Hector presided.

  The program, was certainly original and varied, if somewhat lengthy, andthe audience was kept in a thrill of expectation from one number to thenext, for Peace was a master hand at arranging her numbers, andinstinctively had saved the best for the last. Just as she herself hadtaken her place in front of the motley gathering to give an exhibitionof her whistling, the big door swung noiselessly, and the company fromthe great house arrived in a body,--the Judge's wife and daughter, theirguests, the Sherrars, and the minister and his small family. They lookedvery much surprised to find the place crowded to its utmost capacity,but were even more astonished when, after a preliminary bar or so on themouth-organ, Dick Sullivan began softly to play _The Blue-bells ofScotland_, and Peace's red lips took up the melody, whistling withbeautiful accuracy and clearness, trilling through measure after measurewith bird-like notes, following all of Dick's variations, and adding afew of her own under the inspiration lent by the presence of her belovedfriends.

  "Cecile," exclaimed her friend Frances, "why didn't you tell me you hadsuch a genius in your midst? I'd have been out here the first one tohear the whole program. Why, she looks like an angel, and her whistlingis divine. Who is she?"

  "Peace Greenfield," answered Cecile, almost too amazed for speech, forthis was the first time she herself had ever heard the young whistler."Father calls her the dearest little nuisance in town. She is one of themost original pieces I ever saw in my life--always into mischief, andalways trying to help someone. But truly, I had no idea she couldwhistle like that. Mr. Strong, what do you think of it?"

  "She is doing splendidly!" he whispered enthusiastically. "She is aregular genius at it. Why, a year ago she came to me and begged _me_ toteach her."

  "So she is a pupil of yours?" asked Mrs. Sherrar, as much enchanted withthe musician as were her young people.

  "Not exactly. I helped her what I could, but I think most of the creditbelongs to Mike O'Hara and the birds in the woods. He set her toimitating them; and she is an apt mimic, you will find. Clap with allyour might."

  The very rafters rang with the applause of the enthusiastic audience, asthe small whistler took her seat among her mates on the platform, andshe was forced to give another selection, and a third. Allee came toher aid in the fourth, and sang to a whistled accompaniment, but theapplause was more tremendous and insistent than before; and poor, wearyPeace rose to her feet for the fifth time, but instead of pouring forththe torrent of melody they expected, she faced the audiencebelligerently, and cried in exasperation, "My pucker is tired out and mythroat aches. Do you 'xpect me to stand here all night? Victor Sherrarwill play on his cornet now and then you can go home."

  "Mamma," whispered Frances, while her brother was rendering the closingnumber of the program, "I simply must have those two tots at my partynext week. They will be a novelty and everyone is sure to like them.Cecile thinks I can borrow them all right, seeing that it is to beSaturday night."

  "Well, we'll see," smiled the mother indulgently, as the crowd broke upand departed, while Peace and Hector divided the spoils in the corner."She surely is an interesting specimen, and it was worth ten times themoney just to hear her squelch her audience. Where is Brother Strong?"

  He was interviewing the brown-eyed girl, who, with her money in hand,was about ready to follow her companions for home; and they clusteredaround the little group by Hector's table just in time to hear Peace'sdismayed voice cry, "You're fooling! I didn't believe that of _you_.Why, Mr. Strong, I read it myself on the poster!"

  "Where? What poster?"

  "That big one up on the corner back of this house. Allee and me werepicking gentians when we saw it. Didn't we, Allee?"

  "But, Peace, that was last year's sign. There hasn't been a circus intown this summer, and there isn't going to be. It is past circus time."

  "Are you sure?" she faltered, opening her fist and looking tragically atthe pile of nickels and dimes she held.

  "Perfectly sure! They were to have been here last year just about thistime, but it rained pitchforks, as you children say, and they didn'tstop. That poster is ragged and faded with time. If you don't believeme, just come up to the corner and I'll show you the date."

  "Oh, I b'lieve you! Ministers don't often tell lies; but I was justthinking of this heap of money I've earned all for nothing. Eighty centswas my share, and I thought that would take most of our family--s'posingGail would let us go."

  The amused grown-ups smiled behind her back, but the preacher understoodhow disappointed she was, and taking her hand sympathetically in his, hedrew her aside and whispered a few words in her ear which brought backthe sparkle to her eyes and the happy
glow to her face, as she exclaimedenthusiastically, "I'll do it! Sure! No, I won't tell a soul. CourseGail will let me. All right! Good-bye!"

  She was off like a shot down the road, and the pastor joined his hostesson the way to the house, with the irrelevant remark, "Dr. David Peak, amissionary to Africa, is to speak at our Sunday morning service. I hopewe have a large attendance, as this will be a rare treat. It isn't oftena little country church can secure so notable a speaker. Spread the goodnews all you can."

  Something in his voice made the Judge's wife say suggestively, "He isnot to be the only unusual attraction, is he?"

  "The only one to be advertised," smiled the parson, and she understood.

  The following Sabbath day was glorious, bright, warm, and with the smellof fall in the air. The church was packed; pastor and people were attheir best; and an expectant hush fell over the little audience when Mr.Strong took his seat after reading the weekly announcements. The organbegan to play softly, necks were craned to catch a glimpse of thesinger, and then a buzz of surprise filled the room. Peace, dressed allin white, and looking like a rosy cherub, had mounted to the organ loftwhere Faith was playing, and at the proper moment, she began to whistlea beautiful bird melody which surprised even those who had heard her theprevious Wednesday. The whole audience sat spellbound. It seemedincredible that Peace,--little, blundering Peace, riotous, rebellious,happy-go-lucky Peace--had such a soul of melody bottled up within her.It was as if the songsters from the forest were suddenly let loose, andeven her own sisters were amazed at her song.

  Mr. Strong had been wise when he chose that moment for Peace's music,for the whole congregation was in tune for the grand missionary pleawhich followed, when Dr. Peak rose to address them; and so inspired, anduplifted was the speaker himself that he preached as he never had donebefore, bringing his cause so close to the people that they werethrilled and fired with his enthusiasm.

  Parker was a well-to-do little village, built originally for the expresspurpose of permitting wealthy business men of the city to find peacefulretreat from the noisy metropolis, where, week in and week out, theyspent the long days of labor. It had now somewhat outgrown thisreputation, but still numbered many rich men among its inhabitants, andboasted of an unusually fine church for such a small place, although itwas not noted for its spiritual zeal, and particularly was it lacking inits missionary spirit. These were difficulties which the ardent youngpreacher, Mr. Strong, had sought for many long months to overcome, andwhile the earnest missionary from Africa was pleading the cause of theheathen, the pastor praying with all his might for his owncongregation.

  When the wonderful sermon was finished, and Mr. Strong saw the unusualinterest in the faces before him, he determined to strike while the ironwas hot, and though that Sunday was not scheduled for a missionarycollection, he sprang to his feet and made an urgent plea for more fundsfor the grand and glorious cause.

  "Give from the depths of your heart," he urged. "Think of these millionsof people needing the Gospel. Brother Peak has come direct from thefield, he knows conditions better than anyone else can know them. Hetells us they need more missionaries. How are they to get them? Throughus in our civilized countries. We can't all go in person, but I don'tthink there is a soul here this morning but can give something to help alittle. The ushers will now wait upon you. Who will be the first togive, and what shall it be,--yourself, time, m--"

  "My cirkis money!" cried a shrill voice from the organ loft, and therestood Peace, fishing coin after coin from the depths of her pocket anddropping them over the pulpit into the missionary's outstretched hand."I earned it so's me and Allee and Cherry could go to the cirkis--thatis, if Gail would let us--and then, come to find out, it was lastsummer, and on 'count of the rain it never stopped at all. Next best toseeing the cirkis is hearing what that man said about the little blackbabies in Africa,--that's where the cirkis animals come from, too,--andI couldn't help wondering how I'd feel s'posing I had to live there andbe black and eat such horrible things and be boiled in a kettle to takethe dirt off, and buy my wife for a junk of cloth and wear strings ofbeads for clo'es. Here's my eighty cents, Dr. Missionary, to buy them alittle more Gospel, and when I'm grown up if there are still heathenliving in that country, I b'lieve I'll come down and help."

  Whether it was the missionary's sermon, Mr. Strong's plea, or Peace'spostscript that did the work, perhaps no one will ever know, but whenthe ushers brought their loaded baskets to the pulpit and theextraordinary collection was counted, it was found that over one hundreddollars had been raised for the missionary cause that morning in theParker Church.