Circus Shoes Read Free

the arrangement I wished for-”
    Santa was so upset she felt she would scream if she had to hear about being the niece and nephew of her oldest friend again. So she interrupted.
    “If you don’t like the arrangement, don’t let it happen. It needn’t. There must be somewhere we could go together if only you looked for it.” She came to Mrs. Ford and shook her arm to be sure she was listening. “Peter and I couldn’t live in two different places, you must see that.”
    Miss Fane leaned across the table. She held out her hand, palm upward, as if she expected Santa to put her hand into it.
    “I understand how you feel, little one. Separation is terribly hard. But, believe me, your violin will help.”
    Santa stamped her foot. She sobbed while she spoke.
    “How can you say that? Why should it make it better if I played Art thou weary? six hundred times a day?” She turned desperately to them all. “You must find a place for us. Here you sit, and all you say is it can’t be helped. But it’s got to be helped. I won’t live somewhere else than Peter. And he wouldn’t either. Would you, Peter?”
    They all looked at Peter. He was leaning against the mantelpiece. His hands were in his pockets and he was staring at the floor, not seeming interested in what was going on. Santa could not see him clearly because she was crying so hard that everything was out of focus. But she felt a cold feeling inside. Peter was not going to fight. Ordinarily he became angry so much more quickly than she that if he were going to be angry he would have been by now. Mr. Stibbings looked at him with approval.
    “Peter is sensible, Santa. He knows what must be must be.”
    Peter looked up. He came over to the table stood beside Santa.
    “That’s right, sir.” As he spoke he dug his elbow into Santa’s side. If ever a dig in the ribs meant “Don be a fool, trust me,” that one did. He turned to Mrs. Ford. “I shouldn’t worry. I expect it won’t be bad at Saint Bernard’s Home for Boys and Santa won’t mind about Saint Winifred’s Orphanage for Destitute Female Children when she understands. Will you Santa?”
    After the dig in the ribs Santa felt better. She knew from the way Peter said that she would not mind when she understood, that he must have a plan, and she decided it would help if she seemed to cheer up. She dried her eyes.
    “I suppose it will be all right. It was just that I was so surprised. I had never thought we would not be going together.” As she said this she could not help a wobble in her voice. She was sure Peter meant to do something, but after all they were only children, and probably police and other people would be on the side of Mr. Stibbings, Mrs. Ford, Madame Tranchot, Miss Fane, Saint Bernard’s, and Saint Winifred’s. She tried to look brave, but she did not feel it.
    Peter pulled two chairs up to the table. He pushed Santa into one and he sat on the other.
    “There’s just one or two things, sir. When do we go?”
    Mr. Stibbings looked at Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Ford looked at Madame Tranchot, Madame Tranchot looked at Miss Fane. They all looked embarrassed. Mr. Stibbings cleared his throat.
    “I’m afraid, dear boy, it will have to be tomorrow. Your lamented aunt left only a few pounds in ready money. That is exhausted. We are all poor people or-“
    “I know,” Peter broke in. “You’ve all been kind.” He paused a moment. Then he said firmly. “My aunt left some jewelry and stuff. If we are going tomorrow Santa and I would like it tonight.”
    Mr. Stibbings was a stupid man in many ways, but he meant to be kind. He was very worried at Peter’s request. Having been lady’s maid to a duchess, Aunt Rebecca had acquired numerous bits of jewelry, many of them not very beautiful, but all of them good in their way. He could not feel that jewelry was suitable for orphanages. Orphans wore uniforms. No male orphan, so far as he knew, wore a watch, and no female one a brooch. Besides, the little bits