Sally paused at the door of the tent, and cast a swift glance backward over her green-satin shoulder. "Van" was holding one of "Enid's" hands in both of his, laughing down at her, mockingly but fondly, as if they were the best of friends.
"Well," she said to herself, as she ran toward the dress tent, "now that he's found _her_, he won't bother me. I wonder who 'Court' is. Her husband? I hate rich women who play 'Lady Bountiful,'" she thought with fierce resentment. "But--I can't hate _her_. She's too beautiful. Like a little gold-and-green bird--a singing bird--a bird that sings contralto."
She was resting between shows, lying on her cot in the dress tent, when Pop Bybee came striding in.
"It's all right, honey. Don't be scared to go on with the show. That Pond dame came cackling to me, all het up, half believing what this Betsy baby said about you being Sally Ford, but I give her a grand song and dance about you being the same Princess Lalla who joined the show in New York in April. She wanted to talk to you, but I steered her off, told her you couldn't hardly speak English and she'd just upset you. Just stick to your lingo, child, and don't act scared. Ain't a chance in the world the Pond dame will make another squawk."
He must have spoken to Gus, also, for the barker cut her late afternoon and evening performances as short as possible, although by doing so he lost many a quarter. She smiled upon him gratefully, was pleased to the point of tears by his whispered: "Good kid! You've sure got sand!" after the ten o'clock show when she had apparently regained her confidence and her intuition to know "past, present and future."
As the evening wore on the heat grew more and more oppressive. The wilted audience passed languidly from freak to freak, mopping their red faces and tugging at tight collars. Children cried fretfully, monotonously; women reproved them with high, heat-maddened voices; Jan, the giant, fainted while Gus was ballyhooing him, and it took six "white hopes" to carry him to his tent. At eleven o'clock, when Gus had just started his last "spiel" of the evening, a terrified black man, with eyes rolling and sweat pouring down his face, staggered into the tent, bawling: