Braddock, who had started
out to look for them.
"Hurry," she whispered. "Go in on the other side, Jack--quickly. Come
this way, Christine. Your father is coming back through the main-top.
Mr. Briggs and Professor Hanson are detaining him near the band
section--talking of a change in the music. Oh, I've been so nervous!"
"Good-by, David," whispered Christine, as she flew to the sidewall. An
instant later she disappeared, casting a quick glance up into his face
as he gallantly lifted the canvas for her to pass under.
"I'm sorry," he murmured impulsively to Mrs. Braddock as she followed.
Then he raced around the tent and bolted under the wall into the men's
section.
Joey Grinaldi simply glared at him.
In two minutes he was out of his clothes and beginning to slip into
the stripes.
"Here's Brad," hissed a friendly "Courtier," calling in through the
flap, beyond which a dozen men and women were waiting to make the
_grand entree_, or "tournament."
Braddock came in, his cigar wallowing in the throes of a vacuous but
conciliatory smile. Every one stood ready for a shocking display of
profanity.
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