* * * * * * * *
While Johnny Thompson was watching the performance, two little girls, sitting bolt upright in their beds in the big house of Major MacDonald in far-away Amaraza, were planning wild things for the future. Through the aid of their maid they had succeeded in securing for themselves suits that would do with the circus—pink tights, exceedingly short blue skirts, red slippers and green caps. All that bright afternoon they had spent in the back yard practicing on their ponies. Standing up on the back of one of them had been easy after the first few attempts, but when Marjory had tried standing with one foot on each pony she had slipped down between them and had come near to being crushed.
“We’ll do that, too, some day,” she had exclaimed resolutely.
And now, before they went to sleep, they were planning.
“Yes, sir,” Marjory was saying, “that old circus will come back here some time; I just know it will! Maybe next week.”
“And Johnny Thompson will be with it,” broke in Margaret. “I just know he will, and we’ll get on our ponies when the parade is started. We’ll ride right in the parade, and Johnny will see us and say, ‘There are my friends, Marjory and Margaret.’ Won’t he be proud of us!”
“Won’t he, though!” The other twin clapped her hands in high glee.
They went to sleep finally, still thinking of Johnny and the circus, but little dreaming of the remarkable and thrilling adventures in store for them.
* * * * * * * *
That same night, after the circus tents had been darkened, two strange things happened. The first was never made public; the second was the talk of the circus people the next morning.