Belding banner. (Belding, Mich.) 1889-1918, 1909-01-21
MILE.
GINGER
BY OMBRE THAMES
BY OMBRE THAMES
Copyright, by Bobbs-Merrill Co.

| Given a few freckles in the dull red
ness OF her skin, her name might have
been Maggie Without the freckles,
the proper noun Sal was the alterna-
tive. obviously and inevitably. See
ing her face as il bobbed in profile
against the canvas top of the hippo
drome, one further deduced that her
| family name might be Mcguire, Hooli-
han, or perchance MacFadden. Her
hair was sandy red, her eyes blue
| green, and through the back OF her
gown one observed the tops of her cor
sets, as though her shoulder-blades
were upside down.
On the bill-boards, where In wayside
places were cast photographic shadows
of coming events, she was featured as
Mile. Zingarella, Equestrienne. And
as rehearsed the ringmaster would an
nounce that it was:
POSITIVELY her first appearance in
| any RING THIS SIDE of the Atlantic
| An assertion on the ringmaster's part
which would be quantity veracious,
even without specification as to the
| sides of the Atlantic.
Mademoiselle had not long been at
tached to the circus train as perform
er, and her appearance under canvas,
in connection with the Worlds Show
and Giant Hippodrome, had thus far
been non professional and confined to
that semi-private period elapsing be-
tween the afternoon and evening per-
do nnfC n1ln
having made several trials on a quiet
old dappled gray, now hoped that she
might do well enough In the ring, and
was looking forward to her first pub
lie appearance-in riding habit
loaned by the managers wife.
The circus had played at Haverhill
the day before. And having come up
the river bank during the night it was
to encamp on the Dawnsbrink cricket
grounds for a repetition of the usual
two performances.
Passing in the dead of night along
ghe country roads, with mighty rum
BILE Of heavy wheels and a prodigious
glow of smoky torches, the procession
suggested the burial of plague vic
tins, or the rolling death tumbrels of
the great revolution. Later, in the
twilight of the early morning, when
the gray radiance of the misty sky
dripped down upon the painted char
lots and gilded cars, when the voices
of the weary folk were raised in husky
curses, when some alien beast. scent
| ing the moist wilderness of the woods,
screamed in the anguish of its captiv-
| ity-later, one remembered the return
OF an ancient army, triumphant and
heavy-laden with the spoils of barbaric
kings. When the risen sun shone
upon the chapel spire above the hill,
then the circus folk were like only the
beggars of Mother Goose, some in
rags and some in tags, and as weary
and gray with dust as the canvas of
the great tent or the heavy-footed ele-
plants that marched in the rear
The place Of Mile Zingarella Nc
Fadden in this caravan was also to the
rear, where her aunt exercised a tenn
poral sovereignty over the troop of
pots and kettles. Mademoiselle's aunt
was in the miracle business, and con-
tracted day by day to feed the null
titUde with a few small beans
on high seas of gravy, and with beak-
ers from auxiliary pools of stygian cof-
fee. Mademoiselle herself was ambi-
tious. She had left the culinary shadow
of her chaperon's wings to trudge be-
hind the band wagon In the army's
van. This morning in the parade as
mademoiselle said to herself, half
asleep, she was to make her first APP
pearance this side Of.
High in the gilded stern of the band
wagon rode Signor Gaspardi, the aerial
artist, whose nationality also was
Celtic. The signor's honest brogue
came brawny from depth like that
of the sky, and the width between his
shoulders was the width OF the
good earth-so thought mademoiselle
and his head would lie as heavy on
ones heart as a great weight OF gold
With the addition of some rouge and
a rub Of No. 3 grease paint just be-
fore leaving the dressing-tent the sig
nors skin was that Of an angel And
he wore pale pink tights, rose-tissues
INC iuOSl Sllhcn tUdI ever SncdlneO
muscles of fragrant steel, and glitter
ing trunks. of woven silver and san
dals of snowy kid that might fifty have
trodden the crimson carpets of heaven
so thought mademoiselle. In fact
she thought many things about the ST.
gnor, and none of them unpleasant
things.
What things the signor thought un-
fortunately had entirely to do with an.
other than Mile. Zingarella-with one
Rosina, queen OF the slack wire. Her
majesty also rode in the great car of
melody, on the rear seat close beside
Signor Gaspardi. The signor had hurt
his collar-bone the day before; indeed
he was not sure that he had not
busted" It, he said. He found Il a
great relief to put his arm along the
back of the queens seat and to rest
his head on her majesty's shoulder.
Perhaps he snored little, or groaned
when the car swayed over a rut. Poor.
heavy-headed laddie, thought Rosina.
Her majesty did not doze. She sat
bravely upright, with her feet on the
big bass drum her heart leaning high