"Oh--er--that's different," said the superintendent in an odd,
uncomfortable tone, with the hint of "bluster" still in it. Win
fancied she heard him add: "What salary?" In any case, the girl
mentioned the sum of eight dollars, and at the same time scribbled
something on a printed paper form pushed over the counter.
"Bet that ain't _your_ line, kid," there came a murmur round the
corner of a velvet bow on Win's hat. So faint was the murmur that she
might almost have dreamed it; but, if uttered, it must have dropped
from heaven or the lion tamer's lips.
Win was burning with curiosity. What two or three talismanic words
could the red-haired girl have whispered so quietly, so secretively,
to change in a second the superintendent's decision? It was almost
like freemasonry. You whispered to the hangman, and he, realizing that
you were a member, took the noose off your neck!
Alas, if Father refused her services, as he almost surely would, she
had no such magic charm to make him change his mind! There was
certainly a mystery, a secret password that did the trick; but the
lion tamer, though a newcomer in this business like herself, appeared
to know or guess, and bet that it "wasn't in her line.
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