As a matter of fact, the two riders made a very pleasing appearance as they entered the ring. Phil, slender, athletic, manly; Dimples exquisitely dainty, looking almost as fragile as a piece of Dresden china, they were a pair to attract attention anywhere.
The spectators did not even dream that Little Dimples was a married woman, with a son almost as old as Phil Forrest himself.
They kicked off their slippers, chalked their feet, then Phil assisted his companion to the back of the horse.
The band struck up a lively tune, the ringmaster cracked his whip, and Phil leaped to the back of the ring horse beside Dimples.
"We are off," smiled the lad.
"I hope not," laughed the woman happily.
Further conversation for the moment was interrupted, for the time had arrived to begin their work in earnest. The two threw themselves into a series of graceful positions, neither very difficult nor very dangerous, but to Mr. Sparling, who was watching their performance from a seat directly opposite to them, their work was more attractive than anything of the kind he ever had seen.
The next time they started in, after the brief intermission, Phil and Dimples varied their performance by leaping from the ring horse, then, taking a running start, jumping to the back of the galloping animal. Only once did Phil miss, and Dimples not at all.
She greeted his failure with a merry laugh that goaded the lad to renewed efforts.
"Have you forgotten how to jump?" teased Dimples.