"She'll never sign it!" cried Andy positively. "How did they come to bring her name into this business, anyhow?"
"Hold hard. Don't get excited, Wildwood," advised Marco. "Business is business, even if it is unpleasant sometimes. You've got the facts. Don't grumble at them. Let's see how we can remedy things."
"They can't be remedied," declared Andy forcibly. "Why, Mr. Marco, I wouldn't meet my aunt for a hundred dollars, and I couldn't get her to sign any such a paper if it meant a thousand dollars to me."
Marco stroked his chin thoughtfully and in perplexity.
"Then the jig's up," he announced definitely. "You see, Wildwood, we've had all kinds of trouble—suits, judgments, injunctions—along of fellows getting hurt in the show. One man lost an ear in the knife-throwing act. He recovered two thousand dollars damages. Another sprained an ankle. Had to pay him eight dollars a week for six months. Now they put the clause in the contract holding the circus harmless in such matters. Where it's a minor, they insist further that parent or guardian also sign off all claims."
"But I have neither," said Andy. "Miss Lavinia is only a half-aunt."
"Well, Miss Starr explained just how matters stood to Mr. Scripps. He hasn't got time to quibble over your aunt. Her signature fixes it—otherwise you're left out in the cold."
Andy was never so dispirited in all his life. He sat dumb and wretched, like a person suddenly finding his house collapsed all about him, and himself in the midst of its ruins.
"Look here, Wildwood," said Marco kindly, arising after a reflective pause, "you think this thing over. You're a pretty smart young fellow, and you'll disappoint me a good deal if you don't find some way out of this dilemma."
Andy shook his head doubtfully. He sat dejected and crestfallen for a full hour. Then he left the circus grounds, evading friends and acquaintances purposely. He went away from the town, reached meadows and woods, and finally threw himself down under a great sheltering tree.