The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1928-04-24

within her grasp she wanted to
stretch out her hands and seize OPP
portunity.
Her eyes glistened; she gasped
involuntarily with delight. If Van
Horne had not been hasty, if he
had not snatched her to him with
a strangled cry of triumph as his
black eyes-mocking no longer, but
wide and brilliant with desire
read the effect of his words, she
might have committed herself, have
promised him anything. But he
did touch her, and her flesh in
Stinctively recoiled, for every nerve
in her body was still athrjl1 with
David'S goodnight kiss.
mo, no! Don't touch mel" she
shuddered. "I won't go! You know
I love David" she walled, covering
her face with her hands. why
won't you let me alone?"
Van laughed, settled back in his
seat and crossed his arms upon his
breast. 81 can wait until you have
your little tummy full of carnival
life and of hiding from the police, u
he told her in his old, nonchalant
way. incidentally have always
bemoaned the fact that conquest
is so damnably easy. 1t is a new
experience to me-this being re-
fused, and suspect that I'm en-
joying it. Now-shall I say good
night, since we've reached the car
nival lot? It's not goodby, you
know, Sally assure you I'm adj
mirably persistent. And remember,
if Enid tries to make a nuisance of
herself, you can always fly to Van.
Good night, Sally, you adorable,
ungrateful little wretch! No kiss?
Perhaps it is better so I'm afraid
I should not care for the brand of
lipstick that Princess Lalla uses"
Sally did not tell David of Van
Horne's offer, for on Saturday, the
last day Of the Carnival in Capital
City, the boy developed a tempera-
ture which caused Gus, who had
acted as volunteer surgeon, to eX-
clude all visitors, even Sally.
Apparently Enid Barr had been
convinced of Bybee's gallant lies
that little orphaned Betsy had been
mistaken and that princess Lalla"
was not "Sally Ford, play-acting,"
but it was not until the show train
was rolling out of the State in the
small hours of Sunday morning that
the girl dared breathe easily.
Sunday, on the show train, was a
happy day, the happiest that Sally
had ever known in her life. Freaks
and dancers, barkerS and conces-
sionaires, all the members of that
wierdly assorted family, the carni-
val, mingled in a joyous freedom
from work and worry, singing to-
gether, reminiscing, gambling, gos-
slipping.
The last week, except for the
storm, had been an excellent one;
money was free, spirits high. Even
Mrs. Bybee, lowering like a mother
hen over David, was good-natured,
inclined to reminisce and give ad-
vice. Sally, whose talent for eX-
quiSite darning had been discov-
cred by the women and girls, sat
on the edge of David's berth, her
lap full of flesh and beige and gun
metal silk stockings, her needle fly
ing buSily, her lips curved with a
smile of pure delight, as she listened
to the surge of daughter and song
and talk. The midget, pity Sing"
perched on the window ledge of
David's berth, a comical pair of
spectacles across her infinitesimal
nose, was reading aloud to David
from one Of her own tiny books, and
David was listening, but his eyes
were fixed worshipfully upon Sally,
and now and again his left hand
reached out and patted her busy
fingers, or twirled the hanging braid
of her hair.
Oh, it was happy day, and Sal
ly was sorry to have it end. But
the show had to go on. The train
wheels could not click forever over
the rails. Monday, with its hustle
and confusion and ballyhoo and
inevitable performances, lay head.
But they we're far out of the State
which held Glen Carson, the or