The mouth, red with the carmine grease, was gentle, even
tremulous; her nose, though streaked with a thin, white line, was
straight and pure patrician in its modeling, with fine, quivering
nostrils, now gently distended by sharp exercise in the ring; her ears
were small, her throat round and slim; right proudly her head rode the
firm, white neck; the warm, brown hair swept down in caresses for the
bare shoulders.
A long, red Shaker cloak enveloped the slim, straight body. Dainty
golden slippers, protected by the ungainly ground shoes of the circus
performer, peeped from beneath the hem of the robe. A small, visorless
cap of red velvet fitted snugly over the crown of her head.
Now the lips were parted and the eyes narrowed by interest in the
stranger who slept against their walls.
The mother was still a young woman; a pretty one, despite the careworn
expression in her eyes and the tired lines in her face. She was
dressed in the ordinary garments of the street, in no way suggestive
of the circus. There was an unmistakable air of gentle breeding about
her, patient under the strain of adverse circumstances, but strong and
resolute in the power to meet them without flinching.
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