THE END OF A SHOW
'It's awful; I could bear anything now—anything—if I thought it would ever be any better; but it won't. My mind's a woman's and my wants are a woman's, but I am not a woman. I am a show. The brutes stand round me, talk to me, touch me!'
'There's a way out,' said the old man quietly, after a pause.
An idea had occurred to him.
'I know—and I daren't take it—I've got a thing here, but I daren't use it.'
'You could drink something—something that wouldn't hurt?'
'Yes.'
'You are quite alone?'
'Yes; my owner is in the village, at the inn.'
'Then wait a minute.'
The old man hastened back to the canvas booth, and fumbled about with his chemicals. He murmured something about doing someone a kindness at last. Then he returned to the caravan with a
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