er. I
was thinking I'd surely be taken on when I told Buck and Avery's sons
the romance. But I don't have to tell _you_, boys."

She jocosely poked them again.

"'A little old!' you say?"--they hadn't said anything, by the way, but
stood there with gaping, toothless mouths. "Not a bit of it for a
jay-town circuit. Of course, it isn't a Forepaugh job for me now or
else I wouldn't be down here talking to Buck & Avery. But I'm still
good for it all--rings, banners, hurdles, rump-cling gallop and the
blazing hoop for the wind-up. You know what I can do, boys. Remember
old times. Give me an engagement for old-times' sake." She flashed at
them the arch looks of a faded coquette.

Buck, the poignancy of his ancient regret having been modified by his
long course of consolation from the lips of Avery, was the first to
recover. This faded woman, trying to stay time's ravages by her rouge,
displaced the beauteous image he had cherished so long in his memory.

"Ain't you ashamed to face us two?" he demanded. "You that run away
and broke your promise to me! You that ruined me!" He patted his
breast dramatically and shot a thumb out at Avery.

"My sakes!" she cried. "You ain't so unprofessional as to remember all
that silliness against me, are you? I was only a girl, and you
couldn't expect me to love you--either of you. I'm a poor widow now,"
she sighed, "and I need work. And here you have been laying up grudges
against me--the two of you--all these years! What would your wives
have said?"

"We never got married," replied the two, in mournful duet.

But she wasn't in a consoling mood. "You're lucky!" she snapped. "I
married a cheap, worthless renegade, who stole my money and ran away.
He fell off a trapeze and broke his neck, and I was glad of it."

The look that passed between Plug Ivory and Plug Avery carried all the
pith of the quotation: "The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they
grind exceeding small."

"So am I," grunted Buck, surlily. "No, I'm sorry he didn't live to
torment you. No, the only thing I'm really sorry about is that 'twas
Brick Avery's money he got away with."

Avery sighed.

"But I want to say to you, Signory Rosy-elly," continued Buck, with a
burst of pride quite excusable, tipping his hat to one side and
hooking his thumb into the armhole of his vest, "it wasn't my money
you got, and it never will be my money you'll get. You just made the
mistake of your life when you run away from me."

"He