“You funny little thing!” said the vicar, laying down his pen and looking at her. “I wonder what you’ve got into your head. Wouldn’t Dickie like to run upstairs now?”
But she only swung herself backwards and forwards on his knee and repeated very fast, as if she were saying a lesson:
“Please, father, take Dickie to see gee-gees.”
There was evidently no chance of getting rid of her unless this question were answered, and the sermon must really be finished. The vicar looked gravely at her and spoke slowly and impressively:
“If Dickie is a good little girl, and will go upstairs to the nursery directly, and stay there, father will ask if she may go and see the gee-gees.”
Dickie got down and trotted away obediently, for she thought she had gained her point; but alas later on, when mother was appealed to, she was still quite firm on the subject—Dickie must not go to the circus. The four other children were enough for Miss Grey to take care of, and Nurse could not be spared—Dickie must stay at home and be a good little girl.
Stay at home she must, as they were all against her; but to be a good little girl was quite another thing, and I am sorry to say it was very far from her intention. If she were not taken to the circus she would be as naughty a little girl as she possibly could. So when she had seen the others go off, all merry and excited, leaving her in the dull nursery, she threw herself flat on her face, drummed with her feet on the floor, and screamed. At every fresh effort which Nurse made to soothe her the screams became louder and the feet beat more fiercely, and at last the baby began to cry too for sympathy.
Dickie was certainly in one of her “tantrums,” and Nurse knew by experience that solitude was the only cure, so after a while she took Cicely into the next room and shut the door. For some time Dickie went on crying, but presently when she found that Nurse did not come back the sobs quieted down a little, and the small feet were still; then she lifted her face up from the floor with big tears on her cheeks and listened. Hark! what was that funny noise? Boom boom! boom! and then a sort of trampling. It was the circus in the field close by, and presently other strange sounds reached her ear. She looked at the door leading into the bed-room—it was fast shut, and Nurse was walking up and down, singing to the baby in a low soothing tone. Dickie got up from the floor and stood upright with sudden resolve shining in her eyes: she would go to the circus in spite of them all!
Fortune favours the disobedient sometimes as well as the brave, and she met no one to ask where she was going on her journey through the passages; when she came to the top of the stairs she saw that the hall was empty and silent too—only the dog Snuff lay coiled up on the mat like a rough brown ball. He had not been allowed to go to the circus either. She went slowly down, holding by the balusters and bringing both feet carefully on to each step; as she passed him Snuff opened one bright eye, and, watching her, saw that she went straight to the cupboard under the stairs, where the children’s garden coats and hats were kept. There they hung, five little suits, each on its own peg, and with its own pair of goloshes on the ground beneath. Dickie’s things were on the lowest peg, so that she might reach them easily and dress herself without troubling anyone. She struggled into the small grey coat, tied the bonnet firmly under her fat chin, and sat down on the lowest stair to put on the goloshes. Snuff got up, sniffed at her, and gave a short bark of pleasure, for he felt quite sure now that she was going into the garden; but Snuff was wrong this time, as he soon found when he trotted after her. Dickie had wider views, and though she went out of the garden door, which stood open, she turned into a path leading to the front of the house and marched straight down the drive. Through the white gate they went together, the little grey figure and the little brown one, and along the village street. It was more deserted than usual, for everyone was either in the circus or gaping at the outside of it, and Dickie and her companion passed on unquestioned. Soon they reached the field where the tent and some gaily-painted caravans stood; but here came an unexpected difficulty. Which was the circus? Dickie stood still and studied the question with large round eyes, and her finger in her mouth, Snuff looking up at her wistfully.
Nearest to them there was a large travelling caravan, with windows and curtains, and smoke coming out of a funnel in the roof; its sides were brightly decorated with pictures of horses, and of wonderfully beautiful ladies jumping through hoops, and there was also a picture of a funny gentleman with red patches on his face. This must be the circus, Dickie decided at last, and she proceeded to climb up the steps in front, closely followed by Snuff. The door was a tiny bit open, and she gave it a push and looked in. Things never turn out to be much like what we have expected, and it was so in Dickie’s case, for what she saw was this: