“I’m dreaming! it’s a plot of some kind!” murmured Andy, lost in wonderment.

Miss Lavinia took out her pocket-book.

“Andy Wildwood,” she said, her harsh features as mask-like as ever, “here are ten dollars.  It is the last cent I will ever give you.  When you leave here you sever all ties between us.  I have only one stipulation to make.  You will not disgrace me by having anything to do with anybody in Fairview.”

“That’s all right,” said Andy.  “I’ll agree, except that I’ve got to write to Mr. Graham on business.”

“What business?”

Andy explained in full.  If he had been more versed in the wiles of the world, less astonished at his aunt’s strange compliance with his dearest wishes, he would have noticed a keen suspiciousness in the glance with which she continually regarded him.

“I must insist that you do not write even to Graham,” she remarked.  “About what you owe—­I will pay that.  Yes, I’ll start you out clear.  You won’t write to Graham?”

“No,” said Andy slowly—­“if you insist on it.”

“I will settle the five dollars you owe Graham,” promised Miss Lavinia, “I will pay the bill of damages at the school and to Farmer Dale, and send you the receipts.  Does that suit you?”

“Why—­yes,” answered Andy in a bewildered tone.

“You take that pen and a sheet of paper.  Write an order on Graham to deliver to me those old family mementos you pawned to him.  Also, give me your address for a few weeks ahead.”

Andy did this.

“And now, good night and good-bye,” spoke his aunt.  “I hope you’ll some day see the error of your ways, Andy Wildwood.”

Miss Lavinia did not offer to shake hands with Andy.  She nodded towards the door to dismiss him, as she would have done to a perfect stranger.

“Good-bye, Aunt Lavinia,” said Andy.  “You’re thinking a little hard of me.  But you’ve done a big thing in signing that paper, and I’ll never do anything to make you ashamed of me.  Ginger! am I afoot or horseback?  Permission to join the show!  Ten dollars!  Oh my head is just whirling!”

These last sentences Andy tittered in a vivid gasp as he went down the stairs and once more reached the outer air.

He hurried from the vicinity, fearful that his aunt might change her mind and call him back.

“I don’t understand it,” he mused.  “I can’t figure it out.  That paper fixes it so she can’t stop me joining the show, nor force me back to Fairview.  Then what is she having dealings with Murdock for?”

Andy could not solve this puzzle, and did not try to do so any further.

Within an hour the two precious documents were “signed, sealed and delivered,” and Andy Wildwood entered on his career as a salaried circus acrobat.

CHAPTER XXV

A BEAR ON THE RAMPAGE

“Hoop-la!”

All a-spangle, to the blare of quick music, the great tent ablaze with light, the rows of benches crush-crowded with excited humanity, Andy Wildwood left the spring-board.  For a second he whirled in midair.  Then, gracefully landing on the padded carpet, he made his bow amid pleased plaudits and rejoined the row of fellow tumblers.