Circus Shoes by Noel Streatfeild Page A

face that easily looked worried. It looked worried now.
    “When we was in England,” he explained care fully, “it is that every child who is not fourteen must go to school. But when I was little we was not in England. I have German, French, Russian, and a little Italian, but I have not much English My father say it because I am lazy.”
    Santa looked at him with interest, remembering this was exactly what Olga had said her father about him.
    “Are you?”
    A queer faraway look came into Alexsis’ eyes. “It is that I may not do what I can do.”
    “Oh!” Santa looked at Peter. They both felt embarrassed. Alexis had such a desperate way of speaking. Santa changed the subject.
    “Why is it “building” the big top, and ‘making’ the ring. Somebody told us it was. Is that right?”
    Alexis looked surprised at such ignorance.
    “But of course a ring must be made. A field is hard, yes? How could the artistes work?”
    Peter was a little vague as to what he meant. Work as he understood it meant bookwork or housework, or something like that. He knew the animals would appear in the ring, but he could not see why it needed “making” so carefully.
    “But they’ve dug it up now. Why are all those men working on it?”
    Alexsis suddenly grasped that they were completely ignorant.
    His face looked more worried than ever, as he fumbled for the right words. “A ring he must always be the same size and soft to the foots.”
    Santa shook her head.
    “Not foots. Feet.”
    “So!” Alexsis nodded. “It is that I forget. First the men come and dig up the ground. But ground he is hard. He is rough. He have stones. Sometimes he slope. Then you put more good earth to make a ring.”
    Peter was interested.
    “Where do you get the earth from?”
    “You buy him. Some town it is only seven ton. One town it is twenty.”
    Peter looked at the men who were working.
    “What are they doing now?”
    “They rake him smooth. They maybe water him. Presently the elephants come to tread him down. Then when all is done they put sawdust. Very pretty the sawdust. They pattern it.”
    Santa sighed at what seemed to her a shocking waste of labor.
    “Well, of course, we’ve never seen a circus. But we’ve seen pictures of them. It all seems a lot of fuss to me.”
    A party of men came down one of the gangways. They carried between them some portions of curved wood with plush tops. They put the bits all round the ring, screwing them together At the side where the children had come in leading to the stables there was hinged piece which made a door.
    Peter got up and examined it. He looked over his shoulder at Alexsis.
    “Is that an edge to keep the animals behind.”
    Alexsis got up.
    “That is the ring fence. Inside that is the circus. You understand? No?”
    “Yes.” Santa was sorry to see he was going. “Must you go?”
    “Yes. The horses will have come. My father wish me to work one of them,” He ran off in the direction of the stables.
    Santa looked after him.
    “Pity he couldn’t stay. Even though he does speak so queerly, he told us a lot of things. Look, there’s Uncle Gus. Gus I mean.”
    Gus had come into the big top from the opposite entrance. Both Peter and Santa got up, supposing he come to look for them. After all one does not meet nephews and nieces for the first time every day, so it was only natural that he should want to come and talk to them. But not a bit of it. He came in with another man. They unstrapped a large wooden box. Gus never even looked round to see if the children were there. After a minute or two Peter and Santa sat down again, feeling as stupid as people do feel who have expected to be wanted and then found they were not.
    However, they soon forgot about that, for Gus and the other man began to do the most exciting things.
    Out of the box came a steel bar, some rolls of wire, and a rope ladder. Gus had clogs over what looked like dancing pumps. He kicked the clogs off and put them on the ring