“It’s Signory Rosy-elly!” choked the giant.
She came up and sat down beside them sociably in one of the porch chairs.
“Honest, boys, it was some time before I could place those names,” she chattered. “‘Look & Peak’s Consolidated Aggregation,’ says I to myself. ‘Look & Peak,’ I says. And, thinks I, them two old codgers must have gone to Kingdom Come. ‘Look & Peak,’ says I,” she went on cheerfully, oblivious of the grim stares. “It’s their sons, I says, and so I come right along, for I need the job.”
“Didn’t that ad. say,” demanded Hiram, “that there wa’n’t goin’ to be no personal interviews till later arranged for?”
She poked each in turn with her parasol, “Oh, I knew if it was their boys I’d be taken on after I’d explained the romantic part, which I couldn’t do in a letter. But I don’t have to tell you, boys.” She poked them jocosely again.
“A little old, you say?”
They had not spoken.
“Why, not a bit of it for a jay-town circuit. Of course, it isn’t a three-ringer job for me any more, or else I wouldn’t be down here talking to Look & Peak. But I’m still good for it all—rings, banners, hurdles, rump-cling gallop, and the blazing hoop for the wind-up. You know what I can do, boys. Remember old times. Take me on for old times’ sake.” She gave each one the leer of the faded coquette.
Hiram was the first to recover, for the edge of his regret had been dulled by the long course of treatment he had received from Simon. This worn-out creature completed the job.
“Ain’t you ashamed to face us two?” he rasped. “You that run away from me and ruined him?”