“It isn’t any time to joke, Hiram,” complained the Squire. “I must ride across country and get that girl. The old mare can’t do it. Will you lend me one of your horses?”
“No.”
The showman turned a quizzical gaze into his brother’s pained and puzzled eyes.
“Now you think I’m a hog, don’t you, Phin? But I ain’t. I’m your brother Hime, gruff and tough, but always ready in a time of trouble when the famly’s concerned. Now you just stay here and keep your wax figger in there from falling down and bustin’ in two and lettin’ all that’s inside him run out. You understand! You want the celebrated invisible lady trick worked at Square Harbour, eh? Then you for your job and me for mine! There are some things that you can’t tell me how to do.”
He trotted clumsily around the corner and entered into earnest conversation with Peak on the piazza. Both men hurried to the barn.
Squire Phin gazed after them with some anxiety. He had often had good reason to doubt Hiram’s tact. He dreaded to have that hot-headed individual start on a mission where so much finesse was required. And yet he hesitated about undertaking the task himself and leaving the blundering and irresponsible husband to stir up the village, as he certainly would do if left to his own devices.
The youth was at the sink, still rubbing the same saucepan.
“He might stand there till night unless some one poked him,” mused the Squire. “I must take chances that Hime can manage him while I’m gone. I can’t let anyone else do the job at the other end. It needs——”
He had been pondering the matter longer than he had realised. The tumult of gruff shoutings in the barn and in the rear, where the circus equipment was stored, in its new building, had been increasing. Now around the corner of the barn, with clank of whiffle-tree and jingle of harness and ruck-te-chuck of axle boxes, came one of the vans, smart in new paint and varnish. Four horses were drawing it.
Across the yard they came on the trot. Hiram and his friend loomed on the box, and their plug hats loomed above them.