The Ugly Little Girl gazed in awestruck wonder, laughing every now and then in a spasm of merriment. Suddenly she looked up and saw Peter’s face.
“Don’t it make you laugh?” she queried. “Ain’t it funny?”
“For the crowd, perhaps,” answered Peter. “But for the harlequin—” He shrugged his shoulders, and the Ugly Little Girl somehow understood and ceased to smile.
Later they saw him outside a tent; he was jesting no longer. Morose, silent, he was gazing on the ground. Peter said a word or two, insignificant but friendly.
“Ah!” said the fellow, looking up; “you can see the man beneath the fool.”
“Many of us wear the cap and bells,” said Peter. “It’s better to raise a laugh than be an object of pity to a non-understanding multitude.”
“You, too!” said the man. “Another in the world with a laugh on his lips and an ache at his heart!”
“Sighing won’t ease the ache,” said Peter; [Pg 258]“and a laugh is often more dignified than a groan.”
“You’re right there,” was the answer. “And a laughing fool is better than a moping wise man.”
“Well said!” quoth Peter. And then there was a call from within the tent, and the harlequin vanished with a nod.