“Well, we’ll have to break up the system,” declared Joe.  “As soon as I get this new act of mine perfected I’m going to take a day or two off, over Sunday say, and visit the detective agency.  They may need stirring up.”

“I wish something could be done,” declared the treasurer.

About a week after this conversation, during which time the circus had moved from place to place, doing good business, Mrs. Watson, meeting Helen on the lot, said: 

“Who are Joe’s new friends?”

“New friends?  I didn’t know he had any specially new ones,” remarked the young bareback rider.  “Has he been befriending some more poor broken-down circus men, like Ham Logan?”

“These aren’t men,” said the clown’s wife.  “They are three pretty girls.  I saw Joe coming back from downtown with them.  They seemed jolly—­laughing and talking.”

“Three pretty girls!” murmured Helen.  And then she quickly added, with an air of indifference:  “Oh, I suppose they may be some cousins he hasn’t seen for a long while.”

“I thought Joe said he had no relatives in this country,” went on Mrs. Watson.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” and Helen’s voice was very cool.

“There’s something behind all this,” mused Mrs. Watson, as Helen walked away.  “I hope those two haven’t quarreled.  Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

However, it was too late now.  The seeds of jealousy seemed to have been sown, though unwittingly, by Mrs. Watson.  Helen walked on with her head high in the air, and as the clown’s wife passed Joe’s official tent a little later she heard, issuing from it, the jolly laughter and talk of several girlish voices.

“I wonder what Joe Strong is up to,” thought Mrs. Watson.  “He never acted like that before—­going off with other girls and neglecting Helen.  I’m going to speak to him.  No, I won’t either!” she decided.  “I’ll just keep still until I know I can help.  It’s better that way.”

It was perhaps an hour after this that Joe, meeting Helen, called to her: 

“Oh, I say! don’t you want to do me a favor?”

“What sort?” asked the rider of Rosebud, and if Joe had not been thinking of something else he would have noticed the danger signs about Helen’s countenance.

“The fancy jacket I use in one of my tricks is torn,” went on Joe.  “Would it be asking too much to request you to mend it?”

Helen tossed back her head and there was a snap to her eyes as she answered: 

“Why don’t you get one of the three pretty girls to do your mending?  I’m afraid I’m not clever enough!” And with that she walked on haughtily.

For an instant Joe was so surprised that he could not speak.  His face plainly showed how taken aback he was.  Then, after a moment, he managed to stammer: 

“Oh, but I say!  Helen!  Wait a moment!  Let me explain.  I—­er I—­I only—­”

But Helen did not pause, she did not look back, and she did not answer.  Joe stood staring after her in blank amazement.  Then he gave utterance to a low whistle and exclaimed: