Now, what I saw was a tumour which could only mean one thing, and that was death—an early and painful death probably. ‘He’s not starving,’ I muttered to myself; ‘poor little chap, he’s dying!’
I thought I would go out into the fresh air, but as I prepared to rise my eye caught sight of a chink in the canvas through which the ‘green room’ was visible.
The trapeze gentleman was now performing, and the clown was removing his ‘make up.’ Now that he was off the stage I could see that he had a limp. A gust of wind came suddenly, enlarging the opening. He turned, apparently to close the orifice; his eyes met mine, and in that startled second I knew him to be the ‘Caleb Jay.’
Repressing a cry of surprise, I came out, and went round to the back to wait for him.
III.
‘Now, tell me,’ said I, as I led him up to the station, ‘why do you do it? You know you oughtn’t to, for it will kill you if you exert yourself like that.’
‘Ay, an’ that’s why,’ replied he, ‘for I ken I’m dyin’; I went an’ axed a doctor a while back, iv Oldcastle, an’ he says, “I’ll gie ye a year ti live at the ootside,” says he.’
‘Then, why do it?’ I urged. ‘Do you love it so, or is it for the sake of the money?’
‘Ay,’ he replied, gasping a little, as we mounted the slope to the station, ‘that’s it. It’s for the brass. Ye ken Tom, my brother? Well, it’s for him i’ pairt, an’ i’ pairt for my mother, who wants a bit frae me for my keep, ye ken. Noo, Tom’s a bonny fellow, ain’t he?—just a joy ti the eye ti look upon; an’ he’s aye wantin’ a bit mair brass for this, an’ that, an’ t’ither, an’, man, it’s a pleasure ti me ti slave a bit for him. There’s nae use o’ brass for me—me that’ just the puir “Caleb Jay”—but Tom’s like a live lord when he’s plenty of brass; an’, man, but he spends it weel!’
I was silent for a while, thinking of the tragedy of it all. Then I inquired again: ‘Well, but how did you know you had this gift of acting and singing and impersonation? and why did you hide your talent so carefully from us all?’