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“Take her home,” said her father, “get her out of here at once,” but the laughter was not wiped from his face. He merely glanced at her and back to the ring.”Take her away, Dicey,” called the Grandmother, from under her half-raised crepe veil. Dicey, rebelliously, very slowly, without taking her gaze from the white figure swaying on the wire, rose, seized the limp, suffering bundle, prodded and lumped her way over knees and feet, through the crowd, down the levels of the scaffolding, across a space of sandy tanbark, out through a flap in the tent. Miranda was crying steadily with an occasional hiccough. A dwarf was standing in the entrance, wearing a little woolly beard, a pointed cap, tight red breeches, long shoes with turned-up toes. He carried a thin white wand. Miranda almost touched him before she saw him, her distorted face with its open mouth and glistening tears almost level with his. He leaned forward and peered at her with kind, not-human golden eyes, like a near-sighted dog: then made a horrid grimace at her, imitating her own face. Miranda struck at him in sheer ill temper, screaming. Dicey drew her away quickly, but not before Miranda had seen in his face, suddenly, a look of haughty, remote displeasure, a true grown-up look. She knew it well. It chilled her with a new kind of fear: she had not believed he was really human.

“Raincheck, get your raincheck!” said a very disagreeable looking fellow as they passed. Dicey turned toward him almost in tears herself.”Mister, caint you see I won’t be able to git back? I got this young un to see to … What good dat lil piece of paper goin to do me?” All the way home she was cross, and grumbled under her breath: little ole meany … little ole scare-cat … gret big baby … never go nowhere … never see nothing … come on here now, hurry up — always ruinin everything for othah folks … won’t let anybody rest a minute, won’t let anybody have any good times … come on here now, you wanted to go home and you’re going there … snatching Miranda along, vicious but cautions, careful not to cross the line where Miranda could say outright: “Dicey did this or said this to me …” Dicey was allowed a certain freedom up to a point.

The family trooped into the house just before dark and scattered out all over it. From every room came the sound of chatter and laughter. The other children told Miranda what she had missed: wonderful little ponies with plumes and bells on their bridles, ridden by darling little monkeys in velvet jackets and peaked hats … trained white goats that danced … a baby elephant that crossed his front feet and leaned against his cage and opened his mouth to be fed, sucha baby! … more clowns, funnier than the first one even … beautiful ladies with bright yellow hair, wearing white silk tights with red satin sashes had performed on white trapezes; they also had hung by their toes, but how gracefully, like flying birds! Huge white horses had lolloped around and round the ring with men and women dancing on their backs! One man had swung by his teeth from the top of the tent and another had put his head in a lion’s mouth. Ah, what she had not missed! Everybody had been enjoying themselves while she was missing her first big circus and spoiling the day for Dicey. Poor Dicey. Poor dear Dicey. The other children who hadn’t thought of Dicey until that moment, mourned over her with sad mouths, their malicious eyes watching Miranda squirm. Dicey had been looking forward for weeks to this day! And then Miranda must get scared — “Can you imaginebeing afraid of that funny old clown?” each one asked the other, and then they smiled pityingly on Miranda …