"Well, everything that is born in a circus isn't a clown."
Her eyes widened. "Is that meant for a compliment?"
"No, merely for a reminder. But if you were born in a circus, I assume
that you didn't perform in one."
She shook her head. "No, they took me away when I was a baby--just after
Mother died. I never lived with the circus people, and Father didn't
either except when he was a child. Not that I should have been ashamed
of it," she hastened to explain. "They are very interesting people."
"I am sure of it," he answered gravely, and he was very sure of it now.
"When I was a child," she went on in a matter-of-fact tone, "I used to
make Father tell me all he could remember about the 'freaks,' as they
called them. The fat woman--her name was really Mrs. Coventry--was very
kind to him when he was little, and he never forgot it. He never forgets
anybody who has ever been kind to him," she concluded with simple
dignity.
An emotion which he could not define held Stephen speechless; and before
he could command his words, she began again in the same cool and quiet
voice.
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