Page 151 - A Little Bush Maid

"Half-past seven," remarked her father, shutting up his watch with a click.
"Well, T suppose we’d better go, Norah. All ready, dear?"

"Yes, Daddy. Must T wear gloves?"

"Why, not that T know of," said her father, looking puzzled. "Hardly
necessary, T think. T don’t wear ’em. Do you want to?"

"Goodness--no!" said his daughter hastily.

"Well, that’s all right," said Mr. Linton. "Stow them in my pocket and come
along."

Out in the street there were unusual signs of bustle. People were hurrying

along the footpath. The blare of brass instruments came from the big circus
tent, round which was lingering every small boy of Cunjee who could not
gain admission. Horses were tied to adjoining fences, considerably

disquieted by the brazen strains of the band. Tt was very cheerful and
inspiring, and Norah capered gently as she trotted along by her father.

Mr. Linton gave up his tickets at the first tent, and they passed in to view
the menagerie-- a queer collection, but wonderful enough in the eyes of

Cunjee. The big elephant held pride of place, as he stood in his corner and
sleepily waved his trunk at the aggravating flies. Norah loved him from the

first, and in a moment was stroking his trunk, somewhat to her father’s
anxiety.

"T hope he’s safe?" he asked an attendant.

"Bless you, yes, sir," said that worthy, resplendent in dingy scarlet uniform.
"He alwuz knows if people ain’t afraid of him. Try him with this, missy."
"This" was an apple, and Jumbo deigned to accept it at Norah’s hands, and

crunched it serenely.

"He’s just dear," said Norah, parting reluctantly from the huge swaying
brute and giving him a final pat as she went.