“We might go to the Circus,” he suggested, half doubtful of the propriety of such a course.  However, they went.  She clung tightly to his sleeve before the illuminated, high-pillared facade of Welches’ Circus, where Jasper took seats in a box.  Eunice was breathless before the gleaming white and gold of the interior, the fabulous, glittering chandelier, the crimson draperies and great curtain with its equestrienne on a curvetting steed.  The orchestra, with a blare of trombones, announced the raising of the curtain and appearance of Mr. John Mays, the celebrated clown.  He was followed by Chinese sports, the Vision of Cupid and Zephyr, and the songs, the programme stated, of Lowrie and Williams.  These gentlemen, in superb yellow satin, emphasized harmoniously the fact that

“And joy is but a flower,
The heart with sorrow meeting
Will wither ’neath its power.”

Jasper Penny wondered abstractedly what was to be done with the tense, excitable child at his side?  A voice from the wings announced:  “Mouse and Harebell, the Lilliputian ponies, with Infant Jockies, the smallest schooled racers in existence.”  And the word “schooled” recalled to him the diffident woman he had met at Stephen Jannan’s, the night before.  Miss ...  Brundon.  A place for the education of younger girls.  He could send Eunice there, for the present at any rate; and decide later upon her ultimate situation.  Miss Brundon had a sensitive, yes, distinctly, a fine face.  Her school, he remembered, was at Raspberry Alley, far out Spruce Street, close to Tenth.  He drew a deep breath of relief at this bridging of the immediate complications the child presented.

The next morning, again in the Reaper coach, they rolled west over Chestnut Street, past a theatre with elevated statues of Comedy and Tragedy, the Arcade with its outside stairs mounting across the front, stone mansions set back in gardens with gravelled paths, and the Moorish bulk of Masonic Hall half hid by stores.  Beyond the Circus they proceeded on foot to a four square brick dwelling with weeping willows and an arched wood sign above the entrance painted with the designation, “Miss Brundon’s Select Academy.”

Jasper Penny found Miss Brundon in a small, bare, immaculate office.  She was sitting at a table; and, as he entered, with Eunice dragging desperately at his hand, she half rose, with a quick, faint blush.

“Mr. Penny,” she exclaimed, in a low, charming surprise.  “I didn’t expect, so soon, to have the pleasure ... here, at my school.”  He firmly moved Eunice from her position at his back.  “An unexpected pleasure for me,” he replied.  “I came to consult with you about this little girl—­the daughter of a friend of mine.  A friend, I may add, in difficult circumstances, and for whom I am prepared to do a great deal.  I had hoped—­Stephen Jannan told me about your exceptional establishment—­that you could take her.  She needs just the supervision that I am certain you offer.”