"It's bound to come," said the clown. "It can't rain allus, Mrs. Braddock."
Again there was silence. The three performers were absolutely dumb in the presence of her unspoken misery.
"Would my money be of any service to you?" asked David at last, timidly.
"You dear boy, no!" she cried warmly. "You do not understand. This is our affair, David. You are very, very good, but—" She checked the words resolutely. "We can lift the notes handily if the weather helps us just a little bit."
"I don't like that man," announced the boy, his dark eyes gleaming.
The others coughed uncomfortably. Mrs. Braddock hesitated for a second, and then laid her hand on his.
"He is a very bad man, David," was all that she said. He would have blurted out an additional expression of hatred had she not lifted her finger imperatively. "You must not say indiscreet things, my friend." It was a warning and he understood.
"Come on, Jacky," put in Grinaldi hastily. "I've got to rehearse you a bit. You've got to learn 'ow to tumble and you've got to—"
"Just a moment, Joey," said Mrs. Braddock nervously. "David, I can't keep your money for you. Do you object to Mr. Noakes taking it for awhile? Until we can get to a town where you can deposit it in a bank. It isn't safe with me. I—"
"It is safe with you," he cried eagerly.