The huge circus tent was packed to the highest gallery. There was, in short, not standing room in the audience part of the house. Uncle Ben, in the highest spirits, was darting here and there behind the wings, giving directions, gesticulating, ordering, rearranging. Little Diana flew up to him and took his hand.
"What is you 'cited about?" she asked. "Is you fwightened 'bout anything?"
"No, little gal, no—that is, provided you and your brother do your parts well."
"We has pwomised," said Diana, with great firmness; "you needn't be fwightened; we has pwomised."
The children were to appear as the last item of the first part of the performance. Uncle Ben felt that on them really turned the success of the evening. At last the crucial moment arrived. Two beautiful horses were led into the circus, and immediately afterwards little Diana, holding Orion by the hand, skipped on to the stage. She came lightly forward, almost up to the footlights, dropped a somewhat pert little courtesy, turned round, and, taking Orion's hand, danced up to where the two horses were impatiently pawing the ground. Uncle Ben, with his big whip in his hand, dressed in evening clothes, was standing at one side. A man came forward to help Diana to mount Pole Star—another gave his hand to Orion.
"'Member, Orion, you has pwomised, and it all apends," said Diana, in a low, but very clear, voice.
The little fellow looked at her. Her spirited action, the splendid color in her cheeks, the glow of excitement in her great big eyes, inspired him. He would not ride for those horrid people who were crowding all the seats in front, those horrid, terrible people who seemed to rise from the floor to the ceiling. He did not care anything about those faces, those cruel, staring eyes, those smiling lips; but he did care for Diana. He would ride his best for her.
"Steady, G'eased Lightning," said the little girl; "you's to be good horse, 'member. Now, Pole Star, beauty, darlin', do just what Diana wants."
The horses began to canter forward, going briskly and swiftly side by side. Greased Lightning's coal-black eye was fixed upon Diana as she sat on Pole Star's back. Pole Star felt the feather-weight of the hot hand on his mane, the touch of the little feet somewhere near his neck. There was a magnetic current of sympathy between the horse and the child.
"Think you's a giant," she said once to Orion, as she shot past him in the race.