It was evening of the last day of the delightful Sunnycrest house-party. By general request supper was an hour earlier than usual and none of the children—not even Christopher and Billy Carpenter—ate very much. They were in a constant fidget to have the meal come to an end. Indeed, the two boys excused themselves before it was over and rushed out to help Jo Perkins complete the final arrangements.
When the grown-ups went out to sit on the veranda as usual, they found a transformation. The front lawn had been turned into a circus ring by means of a low, rather wobbly circular railing. An inner railing was staked out with string so as to form a track. Although the autumn daylight still lingered, thanks to Huldah’s promptness with the early supper, Joshua had stationed four large stable lanterns at intervals around the ring and Jo Perkins had strung festoons of gay Japanese lanterns, left over from the Fourth of July, along the edge of the railing. The veranda chairs had been placed in a row on the driveway, facing this ring.
As the party seated themselves, Christopher’s head could be seen every few seconds, bobbing around the corner of the house. Huldah and the two housemaids came out and stood on the veranda and Joshua joined them.
When every one had assembled Christopher, in rather an extraordinary costume composed of a long mackintosh, boots much too big for him and a silk hat of his grandfather’s—with a false band inside to make it fit—strutted into the ring. The long whip he carried proclaimed his character as ringmaster. He mounted on an inverted keg, evidently put there for the purpose.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began in a loud voice, which he tried to make deep and impressive, “we hope you will all enjoy our circus, for we have worked very hard to get it ready.” Great applause from the audience, which rather disconcerted the youthful manager. “We have decided not to have a procession,” he went on in a more natural voice, “because that would show all our—our acts, and we want to keep the different things we are going to do a secret until you see them. We hope you will enjoy it as—oh, I said that before. Ah—oh—thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attention. We’ll be ready in a minute,” and with an abrupt little bow Christopher jumped off the box and clumped away in his big boots at an awkward run.
After a very short interval of waiting he appeared again, this time airily attired in a striped bathing suit, in lieu of tights, followed by Billy Carpenter in like costume.
“Oh, I hope they won’t take cold. Fortunately it’s a warm night,” murmured Christopher’s mother.
The two boys capered into the ring and proceeded to show off the results of their week of practicing and labor. They turned handsprings and stood on their heads; Billy walked a short distance on his hands and Christopher turned a back somersault landing, a little to every one’s surprise, including his own, on his feet. Then they jumped and tumbled together, performing fantastic feats at leap-frog. They were very quick and agile and really rather clever.
The audience was most appreciative and encored them again and again. When they had finally retired, with many bows and flourishes Jane appeared dressed in a long full skirt of flowered muslin—one of her grandmother’s, shortened—a white kerchief crossed on her breast and a quaint little cap on her head. She carried her doll Sally in her arms.
“Letty’s handiwork,” whispered Mrs. Hartwell-Jones proudly as she surveyed the costume.