"Oh, la, la—la-la!"
She was a plain child with a large nose, slightly Jewish in line, a wide mouth, and a mass of crinkly fair hair that stood out in a pert halo about her head. Robert hated her for the brief moment in which she invaded his consciousness. It was quite evident that she was trying to draw attention from the splendid creature who had preceded her to her own puny and outrageous self, and that by some means or other she succeeded. She gesticulated, she drew herself up in horrible imitation of a proud and noble bearing, she pretended that the rotund pony was prancing to the music, and, finally, burst into fits of laughter. The crowd laughed with her, helplessly as though at a huge joke which she shared with each one of them in secret.
"Oh, la la, la la."
The man at Robert's side wiped his eyes.
"Well, did you see that? Upon my word——"
"A baggage—that's what I call 'er," the feathered lady retorted severely.
"Mark my words—a baggage."
Rufus jogged Robert in the side.
"Wasn't she a joke? Didn't she make you scream?"
Robert hated them all. Beastly, despicable people who liked beastly, despicable things.
More horsemen, camels, clowns on foot and clowns on donkeys. Finally the band, slightly winded by this time, and playing raggedly. The torch-bearers formed up, and a large gentleman in riding boots stood for a moment in the light.