A Little Mother to the Others by L. T. Meade (best contemporary novels .TXT) 📕

Oh, merciful Heavens! that man aint never a-going to let her ride Pole Star!"

A black horse of immense strength and size was now brought upon the stage. This horse seemed to paw the air as he walked; his eyes were bloodshot and full of a dangerous light.

"Remember it's your own fault, missy," said Uncle Ben; "this aint the 'orse I'd give you. I don't want any harm to come to you; but if you insist on that little chap, that aint a patch on you, riding Greased Lightning, why, there aint nothing for it but for you to ride Pole Star."

"You don't 'uppose I's fwightened of Pole Star? Why, he's a weal beauty," said Diana.

"He's the——" The man arrested the words on his lips.

Diana had thrown down her whip and rushed across the stage. With just the same fearless confidence as, half an hour before, she had gone up to Greased Lightning—she now approached Pole Star.

"You's pwetty, you's a darlin'," she said. She held[223] out her tiny brown hand. "Give me a bit of sugar, somebody," she demanded.

A girl who stood near ran away to fetch a lump. The child offered it to the horse. He looked at her, pawed the ground restlessly, and then, stooping, licked the sugar off her hand as tenderly as if he were a kitten.

"Well, I never!" said Uncle Ben, breathing a great sigh of relief.

"It's a beauty horse," repeated Diana; "I like it better nor G'eased Lightning. Pole Star, I's going to wide you; you's a dear, good horse." She stroked the creature's nose—the fierce eyes grew gentle—a moment later the child was mounted on its back.

"Now, gee up, gee up!" called Diana. "P'ease, Uncle Ben, don't cwack your whip; I can manage Pole Star." She pulled at the reins, and the creature began, at first gently and then more rapidly, to run round and round the stage. After all, notwithstanding her bravery, it was an ordeal, for Pole Star could run double as fast as Greased Lightning. Soon, from running he seemed to take to flying, and little Diana gasped and lost her breath; but she sat firm as a statue, and never touched a hair of the creature's mane.

"Now, Pole Star," she called out, when the horse had stopped for want of breath; "I's going to stand on you, and you must be vedy good." She patted the animal on its head; then she scrambled to her feet, and, holding the reins taut, stood firm as an arrow, while the creature once more flew round the stage. When her ride was over she had won the applause of the whole house.

After this Diana and Orion were taken away to[224] rest until the evening. They were given the best food and a great deal of petting from Aunt Sarah. As to Diana, she was in excellent spirits.

"Oh, please, Di; nothing will make you stop, nothing will make you break your word?" said little Orion once to her.

"What I pwomise I do," replied Diana, with dignity.

And so the hours flew by, and at last the time arrived when the children were to appear before the footlights.

The huge circus tent was packed to the highest gallery. There was, in short, not standing room in the audience part of the house. Uncle Ben, in the highest spirits, was darting here and there behind the wings, giving directions, gesticulating, ordering, rearranging. Little Diana flew up to him and took his hand.

"What is you 'cited about?" she asked. "Is you fwightened 'bout anything?"

"No, little gal, no—that is, provided you and your brother do your parts well."

"We has pwomised," said Diana, with great firmness; "you needn't be fwightened; we has pwomised."

The children were to appear as the last item of the first part of the performance. Uncle Ben felt that on them really turned the success of the evening. At last the crucial moment arrived. Two beautiful horses were led into the circus, and immediately afterwards little Diana, holding Orion by the hand, skipped on to the stage. She came lightly forward, almost up to the footlights, dropped a somewhat pert little courtesy, turned round, and, taking Orion's hand, danced up to where the two horses were impatiently pawing[225] the ground. Uncle Ben, with his big whip in his hand, dressed in evening clothes, was standing at one side. A man came forward to help Diana to mount Pole Star—another gave his hand to Orion.

"'Member, Orion, you has pwomised, and it all apends," said Diana, in a low, but very clear, voice.

The little fellow looked at her. Her spirited action, the splendid color in her cheeks, the glow of excitement in her great big eyes, inspired him. He would not ride for those horrid people who were crowding all the seats in front, those horrid, terrible people who seemed to rise from the floor to the ceiling. He did not care anything about those faces, those cruel, staring eyes, those smiling lips; but he did care for Diana. He would ride his best for her.

"Steady, G'eased Lightning," said the little girl; "you's to be good horse, 'member. Now, Pole Star, beauty, darlin', do just what Diana wants."

The horses began to canter forward, going briskly and swiftly side by side. Greased Lightning's coal-black eye was fixed upon Diana as she sat on Pole Star's back. Pole Star felt the feather-weight of the hot hand on his mane, the touch of the little feet somewhere near his neck. There was a magnetic current of sympathy between the horse and the child.

"Think you's a giant," she said once to Orion, as she shot past him in the race.

The crowd, speechless with astonishment and delight for the first moment or two, now began to clap and cheer loudly. Crack went Uncle Ben's whip. The circus girls in the wings, the men, the clown, all watched the little pair with beating hearts. Diana they felt sure of, but what of little Orion? And yet a change had come over the child. His face was no[226] longer pale; some of Diana's spirit seemed to have entered into his soul.

The signal came for the pair to stand upon the bare, backs of their horses. Little Orion scrambled as quickly and nimbly to his feet as Diana herself. He caught the reins; crack again went the whip; the horses flew round and round. Now and then Diana said a soft word to Greased Lightning; now and then she stamped her small foot on Pole Star's neck. Each movement, each glance of the child, seemed to thrill through the willing beast. Incomprehensible as it may seem, both these wild, half-tamed creatures loved her. They kept straight, veering neither to left nor right, for her sake.

The first part of the performance went safely through, but now came the more difficult and dangerous time. The children were now not only to ride the horses standing, but they were obliged to ride holding one foot in the air, then to keep on their steeds standing on tiptoe, and finally they had to spring through great rings made of tissue paper, and leap again upon the horses as they galloped through. Diana performed her task with unfailing exactness, always reaching the horse's back at the right moment, springing up, sitting down, standing first on one foot, then on the other, being apparently on wires, afraid of nothing, triumphant through all. Orion made a gallant effort to follow her example. In two minutes now the whole thing would be over.

"Don't be fwightened, Orion; time's nearly up," whispered the gay, brave little voice in his ear.

The horses flew, the children moved as if they were puppets, and all might now have been well if at that moment Diana herself—Diana the fearless, the brave,[227] the unconquerable—had not slipped, slipped at the very moment when she was springing through one of the rings. The horse galloped on without her, and she lay prone upon the floor of the circus. Uncle Ben rushed madly to the rescue, and before Orion's horse had reached the spot he had caught the child in his arms. She was stunned by the fall, and lay white as death in his embrace. The house thought the fall had killed her, and there was a horrified murmur; but Diana was only stunned. In a moment she raised her cheery little voice.

"I's awfu' sossy; I's all wight now," she said. "Where's Pole Star?"

"Nay, little gal," said Uncle Ben, knowing well the temper of the house, "you must do no more to-night. The company, I know, will excuse you."

Seating the child on his shoulder, and patting her hand affectionately, as if he were her father, he brought little Diana to the front.

"I hope, ladies and gentlemen," he called out, "that you will excuse this great lady huntress to-night. But if you wish her to take another turn round on the back of the great Pole Star, she is willing to comply."

"No!" shouted voice after voice in the gallery; "let little missy off. We'll come to see little missy another night. Three cheers for little missy!"

The next moment Diana and Orion found themselves at the back of the stage.

"Is it true, Di?" gasped Orion. "Is it all over?"

"Yes; it's all over," answered little Diana. She leaned against the wall. "I's a bit giddy," she said; "but I'll be all wight by and by."[228]

Aunt Sarah, with tears in her eyes, brought the child a restorative.

"Drink this, little love," she said; "you'll soon be much better, I'm sure."

The curtain had fallen on the first half of the performance, and Uncle Ben came up in a huge good humor.

"Missy, I hope you aint hurt," he said.

"Hurt?" answered Diana. "What do a fall matter? I's as wight as wain. Didn't Orion do well, Uncle Ben?"

"Yes, all things considerin'," said Uncle Ben. "We has a full house, missy, and I'm very much obliged to you. Now you had best go straight to bed. Sarah, take the kids off and give them a good supper, for they has earned it."

Aunt Sarah took Diana's hand and led her to their bedroom.

"But aren't we going away now?" said Orion.

Aunt Sarah sat down at the foot of one of the beds with a white face.

"Come to me, little missy," she said to Diana.

The child went to her.

"I's k'ite well," she said, "only a little giddy. Why, Aunt Sawah, you's kying."

"I thought you were dead for a minute, my little miss; you that is the image of my Rachel, what the good God took from me. I thought you were dead, and it 'most broke my 'eart—oh, little missy, little darlin'!"

"But, Diana, aren't we going away?" Said Orion. "You promised, and you never broke your word."

"I pwomised, and I never break my word," said Diana. "Yes, Orion, yes; we is going away."[229]

"I declare," said Aunt Sarah, "I believe it would be the right thing to do. It would kill me if you was killed, missy—and them 'orses!"

"They is darlin's," interrupted Diana.

"Well, go to sleep now, and I'll fetch some supper," said Aunt Sarah.

She shut the door behind the children, returning in a few minutes with bowls of bread and milk. Diana sat listlessly down on the nearest bench.

"I's awfu' s'eepy," she said.

She did not quite know what was the matter with her; it seemed as if something had suddenly knocked all her spirit away. She did not know herself without the brave spirit which God had put into her little breast. Orion gazed at her anxiously.

"You do look queer," he said; "your eyes are bigger than ever, and they stare so. What's the matter, Di?"

"Nothing," said Diana.

"Aren't you going to eat your supper?"

"I's wather sick," said Diana; "I don't want to eat. You had best eat all you can, Orion."

"Yes, I had best," answered Orion, "'cos I won't have strength to run away if I hasn't plenty of food."

He began to eat up his own basin of bread and milk, and, as it was not too large, he thought he might attack Diana's also; then he gave her an anxious glance. She was sitting strangely still, her hands lying idly in her lap, her eyes staring straight at the opposite wall.

"'Member we is going away, and that you promised," he said. "Isn't it time for us to be off?"

"Yes, Orion," she answered.

"Well, drink off this teeny drop of milk; it will[230] strengthen you." He brought the bowl to Diana, who sipped of a few spoonfuls; but then she shook her head.

"I's sick," she said; "it aren't good to eat when you is sick."

"Well, do come now," said Orion. "If you don't go at once they will find us; and you promised, and you never broke your word yet."

"I underland," said Diana;