Hilda Richards Bessie Bunter Joins the Circus
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Formatted: Different first page HILDA RICHARDS BESSIE BUNTER JOINS THE CIRCUS CHAPTER I At the Roadside ‘WE’RE early,’ commented Barbara Redfern, glancing round. ‘I don’t see Sheila, Janet.’ Janet Jordan, of the Fourth Form at Cliff House School, and the daughter of Jonathan Jordan, the proprietor of the world-famous Jordan’s Gigantic Circus, Menagerie, and Fun Fair, gazed up at the big clock that overhung the platform at Westhampton Station, and nodded. ‘Bessie’s fault,’ Jemima Carstairs put in. ‘You see what you’ve let us in for, Bessie!’ Bessie Bunter, the fattest girl in the party, blinked. ‘Oh, really, Jemima, I don’t see that you can blame it on me!’ ‘Well, who was it who insisted on catching the luncheon train instead of the three-thirty, as arranged?’ Jemima asked. ‘Janet’s sister arranged to meet the three-thirty, didn’t she, which doesn’t get into this station for another hour or more. You can’t back out of it, you know, my fat Spartan! It was your appetite that brought us here.’ ‘Well, we couldn’t miss lunch, could we?’ Bessie protested indignantly. ‘Well, the question is,’ broke in Mabel Lynn, ‘what are we to do? Wait about here for Sheila, or what?’ But Barbara Redfern shook her pretty brown head. ‘No, that’s silly,’ she said. ‘Besides, it’s none too warm. I vote we make our way to the circus by ourselves and save Sheila the trouble of coming to meet us. I suppose you haven’t any idea how far away the circus is, Janet?’ ‘Not how far. I know it’s being held at Bigswell Hall, and that, I believe, is on the outskirts of the town. I’ve not been there since I was a kid.’ The chums nodded at that. There were seven of them altogether. Barbara, the pretty blue-eyed leader of the party; Janet herself; Clara Trevlyn, the tomboy; Marjorie Hazeldene; Jemima Carstairs, of the sleek Eton crop and the inevitable monocle; Mabel Lynn, Babs’ golden-haired lieutenant; and lastly, and most conspicuously, Elizabeth Gertrude Bunter. Just a fortnight remained before they must return for the new term at Cliff House School, and for that fortnight the seven of them — known collectively as Babs and Co. when at Cliff House School — had accepted the delightful invitation of Janet Jordan’s father to be his guests at the circus. Janet, who had been stopping with Babs, Mabs, and Clara at Babs’ home at Holly Hall, in Hampshire, had asked her elder sister, Sheila, to meet them on the three-thirty train’s arrival at Westhampton, never realising at the time that the train had not a restaurant car attached. But Bessie, in London, had insisted upon travelling by restaurant train. Otherwise it would have meant their missing lunch; and to have missed a lunch would have spoiled Bessie’s holiday for days to come! So here they were, an hour and a half before their time. ‘It’s not much good waiting for Sheila,’ Janet said. ‘The afternoon performance is on now, you know, and Sheila’s one of the turns. She comes late in the bill, too. I vote we push on.’ ‘Unless we spend the time in the station buffet,’ Bessie suggested eagerly. ‘I say, that’s a jolly good idea, you know! Besides, I — I could do with a snack after that long train journey. Train journeys make me fearfully hungry, you know. And it wasn’t such a good lunch, was it?’ ‘Well, you seemed to enjoy it all right,’ Clara sniffed. ‘You managed to tackle all the courses, didn’t you?’ ‘Oh, really, Clara, if you’re going to throw that in my face —’ Jemima shook her head. ‘“Those,” Bessie, old Spartan. Remember your grammar, you know,’ she chided severely. ‘When speaking in the plural you should say “those,” not “that.”’ ‘You were referring to many courses, not one.’ ‘Well?’ Bessie glared stonily. ‘ “Those,” ’ Jemima went on, pulling Bessie’s leg, and quite prepared, apparently, to lecture at length, ‘means more than one —’ ‘Oh, chuck it, Jimmy!’ Clara pleaded. ‘You’ll give us all a headache. Now, Janet votes we push on. I second that. Any supporters?’ ‘But look here, you know —’ Bessie said warmly. ‘We won’t look here! The thing,’ Clara went on, ‘is to hire taxis. Bessie’ll pay, seeing that she got us into this fix. Come on, everybody.’ ‘But I haven’t got any money!’ ‘Oh, Bessie!’ ‘Didn’t old Lord Diddlums de Bunter give you a tip before you came away?’ ‘But look here —’ ‘Taxi!’ sang Clara gaily; and, chuckling mischievously, she ran up the platform. Bessie glowered. But there was no help for it, it seemed, but to run after her chums. Fortunately, they had sent on their luggage in advance, and so 2 had no encumbrances. Taxis were waiting — a whole rank of them. Babs held the door of one open. ‘Jump in!’ she cried gaily. ‘This way, Mabs! This way, Jimmy! Come on, Janet! Bessie, you follow in the next with Clara and Marjorie.’ ‘But I say —’ ‘All aboard? Right we are!’ Babs sang out serenely. ‘Jordan’s Circus,’ she instructed the taxi-driver. ‘Know where it is?’ The man grinned broadly. ‘Who doesn’t?’ he chuckled. Out of the huge station the taxi rolled, threading its way through a maze of other vehicles in the High Street. Westhampton, on first acquaintance, was not an inspiring-looking town. It was, as a matter of fact, an industrial district in the southern Midlands, and quite the biggest town for miles around. To make matters worse, a fine drizzle of cold rain was falling, and the streets were congested. More than once they had to stop. Apparently the one thing worth seeing and worth knowing in Westhampton at that moment was Jordan’s Gigantic Circus. Bills and posters were plastered everywhere, depicting people doing most extraordinary things. The cab, held up by a policeman, came to a standstill once more, and Babs found herself staring at a huge hoarding. A gaily coloured poster showed Fearless Ferdinand wrestling with three grown lions at the same time. Another showed a marvellous illusionist producing a sleeping woman, apparently, from mid-air. Still a third featured the weird doings of Dagmar, the Kashmir snake-charmer. Babs laughed delightedly. ‘And we’ll see all this?’ she asked. ‘Free seats for every show!’ Janet promised. Then Babs’ attention became caught and held by another poster — this time of a very pretty girl, dressed in a filmy costume, and mounted on a box, which was surrounded by a number of dogs of all descriptions and breeds, dressed in little red jackets. ‘She looks pretty,’ she said, and read out: ‘ “Doreen, the Dog Charmer! The Most Wonderful Girl on Earth!” Who is she, Janet?’ Janet smiled. ‘One of daddy’s big finds,’ she replied. ‘She joined the circus with her father about six months ago. She’s rather clever with those dogs, I hear.’ ‘Is she as pretty as the poster shows her?’ ‘Well, my sister Sheila says so. Sheila says that she’s quite a draw. The crowds like her, you know. She’s only thirteen.’ ‘My goodness! As young as that?’ ‘And daddy has put her at the top of the bill for this district,’ Janet went 3 on. ‘He gives her an awful lot of money, too. I think she gets something like twenty pounds a week.’ The cab splashed on, threading its way now down a maze of narrow back streets, obviously the homes of artisans who lived in the district. Then away, out into flat, open country, looking rather depressing in the January drizzle and the deepening dusk. Now to their ears came, faintly and far-off, the blare of trumpets, the shrill, raucously sounding music of roundabouts and fun fair. They were drawing near their destination at last! Babs tingled! Circus films, preferably those featuring beautiful, dashing film stars, were her favourites. Circus stories she could read by the hour. But to live in a circus, to mix and move and talk with the circus stars day after day — that, indeed, was an experience she had longed for and dreamed of. And now it was to become a practical accomplishment. ‘Afternoon performance just ending,’ Janet said, glancing at her wrist- watch. ‘We shall be there in time for tea.’ The taxi was speeding through fields now. The road was bumpy and filled with pot-holes, which probably accounted for there being little traffic upon it. And then, ahead, at the side of the road, Babs saw a dog — such a large dog, that at first she took it to be a small pony or a donkey — squatting ridiculously upon its haunches. She watched it with interest, and then regarded a girl who sat near it upon a boundary stone at the side of the road. As the taxi drew level the dog sat up, holding up its forepaws. ‘Oh, what a lovely beastie!’ Mabel Lynn cried. ‘I say, Babs, stop the taxi a minute! It’s begging! I must give it something!’ Babs smiled. She knocked on the window, and the cab came to a standstill. She saw now that it was a St. Bernard, and certainly one of the finest specimens of its breed she had ever seen. It looked up at her pleadingly as she came forward. ‘Oh, you beautiful old thing!’ Babs cried, and ruffled its head. The dog dropped to all fours, looking at her with its expressive brown eyes. ‘Bruno!’ whispered the girl by the animal’s side.