“I don’t think he was a nice kind of man,� said little Mr. Lanter, thrilling with indignation to his toes and finger-tips, “to send a young girl away from her home and her mother—out into the world—among strangers who might have treated her badly!� He looked up at his ideal of womanhood with passionate chivalry.
“Oh, but they didn’t treat me badly!� said Miss Minota. “Dan Slater was real kind. An’ when I outgrew the caravan I traveled in at first, he telescoped two together—an’ as one of ’em had been made for the giraffe, I got on pretty well. But I’ve never got used to bein’ made a show of, an’ stared at, and asked questions by people, whether they’re ordinary folks or Kings an’ Queens an’ Serene Highnesses—an’ I guess I never will. Perhaps you wouldn’t believe it’s lonsome to be bigger ’n anybody else—but it makes me feel so, times!�
“I wish I could prevent your feeling lonesome!� burst out Mr. Lanter, before he was aware. “I wish I could carry you right away from this�—he waved his hand comprehensively—“and take care of you. I wouldn’t let a rough breath blow on you as I could help. I’d stand between you and the world, and shelter you—I’d spend my life in doing it—and spend it gladly!� He forgot himself in what he was saying, and therefore did not blush, but his awkward, plain, and homely little figure in its badly-fitting store clothes was a spectacle to smile at. “Oh! if you knew all I’d thought and dreamed of since I saw you first!� he said, with a quiver of passion in his voice. “It seems like a dream to be talking to you here.... If it didn’t how could I tell you straight out as I am telling you now, what I haven’t even had the courage to write—that I—I——�
Miss Minota modestly reared her Alpine height from the mediæval throne as a trampling of feet sounded from the dusty passage beyond. “I guess I have got to go and dress,� she said modestly.
“Oh, please wait one minute!� pleaded Mr. Lanter. “You must know it, if you never speak to me or look at me again. I think you the grandest, most glorious woman I ever saw! I’m ready to die for you right now, if the dying of a common store clerk would be any use! But it wouldn’t,� said Mr. Lanter, “and so I must go on thinking of you, and worshipping you, and loving you to the end of my days——� He broke down, blushing and stammering.
“Oh, my!� cried Miss Minota. In her surprise she sat down again so unguardedly that the mediæval throne creaked and tottered. “You don’t mean it? Honest, you don’t?�
“I mean it with all my soul!� asseverated Mr. Lanter.
Miss Minota blushed a dull red all over her immense face, as she met the young man’s rather ugly, candid gaze. Then her large china-blue eyes brimmed over; she pulled from her pocket a cambric handkerchief as large as the mainsail of a toy yacht, and began to cry like a thunder-cloud.
“Don’t!� begged Mr. Lanter. “Please don’t! If you’re angry with me I don’t know what I should do. I don’t, indeed!� He was dreadfully in earnest, and quite pale, and large drops stood upon his forehead, for the air in the Musée was insufferably hot and close. There was a smell of charred wood and blistering paint, and the unsettled dust of the place made the straggling rays of daylight that bored their way into it seem blue and smoky. A sudden clamor of voices broke out below, almost under the stage it seemed, and then came the trampling of feet, the crash of broken glass, and the smell of some spilled chemical mingled with the grosser odors of the place. The scent, the stir, the sounds, seemed vaguely associated in Mr. Lanter’s mind with something dangerous and sinister. But he was listening to Miss Minota.
“I ain’t a mite angry,� said the giantess, giving her overflowing eyes a final dab with the handkerchief, now crumpled into a damp ball. “I should hate to have you believe it! I—I think you’re real generous, an’ kind, an’ noble. And I shall be grateful to you all my life�—she mopped her eyes again—“for makin’ me feel—for once—like I’d been an ordinary-sized girl; for I—I’ll own I have fretted considerable. But there, when things can’t be altered, anyhow, it’s no good frettin’, is it? An’, of course, there could never be nothin’ between us—I couldn’t ever play it so low down on a man that’s as generous and kind as you are, as to say there could be. But I’m just as obliged. And now I’ll say good-bye, and if we don’t never meet again you’re to remember I was grateful. My land! I do believe the show’s afire!�