"Yes, dearie, with the greatest show on earth. Ain't you never heard of la belle Hélène?—well, that's me—Risley act—I've been everything from the apex to the base of the human pyramid."
"Good God," I thought, "the circus woman! What on earth shall we do now?" I sat down rather suddenly.
"When do you expect John home? I sent him a telegraph I was coming this noon, but the skunk didn't meet me to the dépôt as I told him. Left me to find my way as best may be, the dirty hound! But I'll fix him!" and she fanned herself vigorously, for her emotion caused her profuse perspiration. "Has he been boozing again?" she continued.
"Mr. de Fougère should be here now," I said uneasily. "I can't think what's keeping him."
"Well, I can!" she announced with vigour. "He always gets drunk when he knows I'm coming—the coward!"
I thought it took some courage to drink with certain punishment waiting at the other end. Here was more than a mere headache.
"I suppose you're Teddy—just the age my oldest boy was when he made his first hit—I trained him myself. John has written me all about you. You won't mind me calling you Teddy?—I just have to mother something or I'm all at sea."
The conversation was taking an alarmingly intimate turn. At this opportune moment Prospero's voice was heard upon the stairs, carolling at the top of his lungs "Rolling down to Rio."
"That's him," said the ex-gymnast, getting elaborately upon her feet, "and he's pie-eyed!"
There was no exit through which I could retreat; Prospero's entrance would be by the only door. I lacked spirit to make a sudden dash by him. He arrived in the middle of the chorus, his silk hat, ruffled, over one ear.