Brownie went off to tell Mrs. Brown to get someone to help her to clean out the caravan. Mrs. Brown hurried to find Lal, and the two women began to take out the furniture for the men to store away. Jimmy and Lotta hated seeing everything being taken out of the caravan they knew so well. The big bed was taken to pieces, and the blankets rolled up. Even the pictures were taken down from the wall. They were only coloured posters of the many circus-people that the Gallianos knew, but they made the walls gay and bright and interesting.
Britomart went to look at. the horses. He loved horses, and they stood perfectly still whilst he stroked each fine animal and spoke to it. But no horse nuzzled to him as they did to Lotta and Jimmy, Lal and Laddo.
Lotta came running up to Black Beauty whilst Britomart was there with the horses. She jumped up on to his back and rode him away. Britomart called after her in his deep voice: “Lotta! Where are you going?”
“For a ride over the hills,” said Lotta.
“No circus-horse is to be taken for pleasure-riding,” Britomart said. “Bring him back.”
“But he is my own horse!” cried Lotta. “My very own. I can ride him whenever I like.”
“He may be your own but he belongs to the circus,” said Britomart. “And whilst I am ring-master you will obey my rules and my orders, little girl. Bring that pony here.”
Lotta tossed her black curls, her face red with anger. She was about to gallop away when Jimmy, who had been listening, caught hold of the bridle.
“Don’t be silly, Lotta,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll only get yourself into trouble. Take Black Beauty back. You know quite well that any ring-master has the right to make his own rules.”
Lotta struck Jimmy’s hand away from the bridle, but he put it back again, and firmly led the horse to where the others stood. Lotta was so angry that she would not say a word to either Britomart or Jimmy. She slipped out of the saddle and ran to her caravan, her face still bright red. How dare anyone say she mustn’t ride Black Beauty over the hills! Why, she did it every day.
“That is a spoilt girl,” said Britomart. “She must do as she is told, or I will not let her go into the ring.”
“Good gracious!” thought Jimmy in dismay. “Not let Lotta go into the ring—he must be mad! Whatever would Lotta say? I’d better warn her to be careful.”
He went off to find Lotta. Britomart called a meeting of all the performers, and soon they were around him, listening to what he had to say. Only Lotta and Jimmy were not there.
Jimmy had found Lotta on the bed in her caravan, thumping at the pillow in anger, pretending that it was Britomart. The boy couldn’t help smiling.
“Lotta! Don’t be so silly! You’ll have feathers flying all over the place.”
“I wish it was Britomart’s hair I was thumping off!” said Lotta fiercely. “I hate him! Horrid cold man without a smile.”
“Lotta, just listen to me for a moment,” said Jimmy, sitting on the bed.
“I won’t,” said Lotta, and she thumped Jimmy. He pushed her away.
“You must listen,” he said. “Do you know what Britomart said just now? He said if you didn’t do what you were told he wouldn’t let you go into the ring.”
Lotta stared at Jimmy in horror. “Not let me go into the ring!” she cried. “Not let me ride Black Beauty in the circus every night! How dare he say that!”
“Lotta, do be sensible,” said Jimmy. “You know that any ring-master gives his own orders and they must be obeyed. Lal and Laddo will tell you that.”
Lotta was still in a rage. She turned sulky and wouldn’t say another word. She wouldn’t promise to be good, she wouldn’t even say she would try. In the end Jimmy left her, feeling rather cross himself. He joined the circus-folk around Britomart, who had been altering the programme of the show.
There was no doubt that Britomart was a very clever man Most of the alterations he made were excellent. Mr. Galliano was a fine ring-master, but rather free and easy willing to let the circus-folk do as they liked providing that their work was good and they were happy. Britomart only cared about whether the work was as good as it could possibly be—the happiness of the people came second or not at all.
Twinkle and Pippi found that their act was cut down Google’s was made longer. Jumbo’s was cut shorter, and the performing seal was given longer.
Though some of the people grumbled, most of them thought that Britomart certainly knew what he was doing.
That afternoon a van drew up with Britomart’s belongings in it. Jimmy and Lotta, Jeanne and Lisa, stared in amazement. They had never seen such grand furniture for a caravan before. There was even a clock made of silver, with little black elephants running all round it. The children stared wide-eyed as the things were taken into the caravan.
“Get away,” commanded Britomart, when the children crowded too near. “Get right away. You are not to come near this caravan. It is private. If I catch any of you near it, you will be sorry.”
Britomart looked so fierce that every child scurried away at once.
“I guess no one will be asked to call in and see Britomart in the evenings,” said Jimmy.
But he was wrong. Pierre was the only one that Britomart liked, and he invited him to his caravan many a time. Sometimes Neptune the seal went with Pierre, and it was funny to see the great creature flipping itself along beside its master.
No one else ever chatted to the new ring-master. He lived alone in the caravan, and not even Jemima the monkey dared to play a trick on him.
Lotta called him “The man without a smile,” and it was a name that suited him very well. He made a magnificent ring-master when the show opened each night, tall and commanding, and he could crack his whip even more loudly than Mr. Galliano.
But nobody liked him—and how they all missed jolly Mr. Galliano and his gentle wife, Tessa!
“If only they would come back,” Lotta sighed a dozen times a day. “If only they would come back!”
Lotta Gets into Trouble
THE circus stayed for a long time in the same camp, for it drew hundreds of people each night, and there was no need to move. Everything in the show went well. Britomart was really an excellent ring-master, and everything ran like clockwork.
But outside the circus things were not quite so good. For one thing, Britomart never praised anyone, and the circus-folk could not get along happily without a good word. Galliano had always praised them and their animals generously, and his people loved that and worked all the harder for him. But Britomart only spoke when things went wrong, and then he found fault sharply.
Lotta was the first one to get into trouble, and it was because of the zebras. The little girl would not keep away from them, and they seemed to like her and welcomed her with joy whenever she slipped into their travelling-stables. Soon she was able to stroke every one of them, and Zebby even learnt to push his black nose into her hand.
Lotta never went into the stables when Zeno or his man were about, for she knew that she would be ordered out. She went secretly, not even telling Jimmy.
One day she jumped lightly on to the back of one of the zebras. It reared up in surprise, and snapped round—but when it knew it was Lotta, it stood quietly, though trembling a little.
“I believe I could ride you, Zebby,” whispered Lotta in delight. “I believe I could! Just wait till Zeno takes you into the ring tomorrow, and I’ll try!”
So, the next day, when Zeno took his zebras into the ring for their daily practice, Lotta was there. Zeno tied a bunch of zebras together outside the ring, and took six of them inside. Lotta ran to the bunch and loosed Zebby. In a moment she was on his back! He reared up, and then galloped into the ring! Lotta clung on his back, delighted.
Zeno looked up and saw her, and his eyes nearly dropped out of his head. No one had ever ridden Zebby before! Zebby was nervous and difficult, and sometimes was not even taken into the ring in case he should upset the others.
Zebby flew round the ring with Lotta on his back
—and at that very moment who should stalk in to speak to Zeno but Britomart himself!
Lotta didn’t see him. She was busy wondering if she dared to stand up on the zebra’s back as she stood on Black Beauty—but even as she wondered this the zebra saw Britomart standing silently at the side of the ring, and was frightened.
It stopped suddenly—and Lotta was thrown right off his back. She landed on her feet, like a cat, with a jerk. Then Britomart began to roar. He had a very deep voice that sounded as if it came from his boots, and it rang like thunder in the ring.
“Zeno! Were you not told that no one but you and your helper were to handle your zebras? How dare you let Lotta ride one! It is a most dangerous thing for a lad to do.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Britomart,” said Zeno, who had been as amazed and surprised as Britomart to see one of his zebras ridden by Lotta. “I’d no idea she was even in the tent. But, Mr. Britomart, it’s wonderful! No child has ever ridden a zebra before. I tell you I couldn’t believe my eyes!”
“Can I ride a zebra in the ring, when Zeno does his turn?” cried Lotta, delighted at Zeno’s praise. “I can manage any of them, really I can—but Zebby——”
“Hold your tongue!” thundered Britomart, frowning at Lotta. “You will certainly not ride a zebra. You are a bad child to have tried. You might have frightened the animal and upset all of them. Go to your caravan for the rest of the day.”
“Oh, but—” began Lotta indignantly. She had no chance to say another word, for Britomart took hold of her shoulder, shook her well, and marched her to the tent-opening. She gave a cry of rage and rushed off.
She found Jimmy and told him all about it, angry and hurt. “I only rode a zebra!” she cried. “And even Zeno said it was a wonderful thing for a child to do.”
“But you promised Mr. Galliano that you wouldn’t ride the zebras,” began Jimmy. Lotta shook back her hair and interrupted him.
“I didn’t promise, I didn’t promise,” she cried. “You’re not to say I did when I didn’t. If I’d promised I would have kept my word. But I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t!”
“All right, all right,” said Jimmy. “Well, Lotta, the best thing you can do is to keep to your caravan for the rest of the day, as Britomart said. If you disobey you will certainly be punished.”
“I’m NOT going to keep in the caravan all day!” cried the furious little girl. “I’m going to get Black Beauty and ride him over the hills. That’s what I’m going to do. And Britomart can do what he likes. He may rule everyone else in this circus, but he won’t rule me!”
And the wild little girl ran off to get her horse, not caring at all what anyone said. Jimmy knew that when Lotta was in one of these moods it was no good trying to stop her. He watched anxiously to see whether Britomart would see her taking Black Beauty, but the conjurer was still talking to Zeno in the big tent.
Lotta galloped off alone on Black Beauty. Jimmy wandered about, kicking a stone round the field, little dog Lucky at his heels. The circus didn’t seem the same any more. People were not so jolly, and Britomart seemed everywhere, with his black eyes, black moustaches, and deep voice.
Suddenly Jimmy wondered if Britomart would go to see if Lotta was in her caravan. It would not be like him to give an order, and then not see if it was carried out. He would be sure to try and find out where she was.
Jimmy ran to Lotta’s caravan. She lived in it with Lal and Laddo. He opened the door. There was no one there. It was an untidy, rather smelly caravan, not a bit like the spotless, tidy one his mother had. Jimmy looked round. He saw Lotta’s bunk against the far end, and went over to it.
He grinned a little to himself. He took a pillow from Lal’s bunk and put it in the middle of Lotta’s. Then he took a saucepan and put it at the top of the pillowfor a head. Then he pulled the blanket up—and the pillow and saucepan underneath looked just like some small person lying in the bunk.
“Good!” thought Jimmy. “If old Britomart takes a look in, he’ll think that’s Lotta in the bunk!”
He slipped out and shut the door. He waited till he saw Britomart come out of the tent. The conjurer looked for Lotta’s caravan, and walked over to it. As he came up to it, Jimmy rapped on the door and cried, “Lotta! Come out and play!”
Then he listened as if he heard someone answering him. “Oh, do come out!” he cried, just as Britomart came up.
“Lotta has to stay in her caravan all day,” said the ring-master sternly. “It is no use asking her to come out.”
He opened the door and looked in. He saw what he thought was Lotta lying in the bunk at the far end, and he shut the door. He strode off, his whip under his arm. He was quite sure that Lotta had obeyed him and was in her caravan! He did not guess that the little girl was at that very minute galloping over the hills miles away!
“If only Lotta doesn’t come galloping into the field in front of Britomart!” thought Jimmy.
Luckily for Lotta she didn’t. She came back just as Britomart had gone off to the town in his big blue-and-silver car. Jimmy rushed to meet her, and hurriedly told her all that had happened.
“Britomart really thinks you were in your bunk all day!” he said.
Lotta was hungry and tired, and not quite so bold as she had been when she rode off. She slipped off Black Beauty and began to rub him down.
“Thank you, Jimmy,” she said. “Oh dear, I do so wish Galliano would come back! I know I’m going to get into trouble with Britomart nearly every day. I just feel it in my bones!”
“Come and have some cocoa and biscuits,” said Jimmy. “There are some waiting for you.”
It was Madame Prunella who next got into trouble with Britomart. He said that she must keep her parrots quieter. They screeched all day long.
“As for that bird who yells ‘Butter and eggs’ or ‘Pickles and peppermint,’ he’s a perfect nuisance,” said Britomart. “You must move your caravan right to the other end of the field.”
“It is too far for me to get water from the stream,” said Madame Prunella obstinately, and she would not move at all.
When Britomart saw that she had not moved even an inch, he went angrily over to her caravan. Prunella saw him coming, and smiled a secret smile. She knew how to deal with angry men who shouted.
“Talk, parrots, talk,” she said in a low voice, as Britomart came nearer. And at once, altogether, the parrots talked! They not only talked, they screeched, yelled, squealed, sang, and recited.
“Plum pudding and custard!” squealed Gringle, right in Britomart’s ear. “Plum pudding and custard!”
“Twice one are two, twice two are three, twice three are four!” shouted another parrot.
“Wipe your feet and put up your umbrella!” screeched a big red-and-grey bird.
Britomart shouted to Madame Prunella, but the screeching more than drowned his voice. Not a word could be heard.
Prunella put her hand behind her ear politely, as if she were trying to do her best to hear what Britomart said. The conjurer shouted again, in his very deepest voice. But no sooner was one word out of his mouth than the whole of the parrots started off again. All the circus-folk stuck their heads out of windows and doors to see whatever was the matter.
When they saw what was happening they grinned and chuckled. They knew quite well that Prunella was playing one of her favourite tricks on an unwelcome visitor. Britomart would have to go away without telling Prunella anything. He stamped his foot and turned away angrily. The parrots screamed after him, and Gringle did a laugh exactly like Twinkle the clown’s.
“Well, Prunella won that game!” said Oona the acrobat, with a laugh. “It’s not often anyone can win a victory over Britomart!”
Lotta Makes New Friends
WHEN Lal and Laddo heard that Lotta had disobeyed Britomart, and had taken Black Beauty out on the hills, they were angry with her.
“You know well enough that however hard an order is, you have to obey the ring-master,” said Laddo sternly to the little girl.
/> “But Black Beauty is mine. I’ve always ridden him whenever I liked,” said the little girl sulkily.
“And as for riding the zebras, it is absolutely forbidden,” said Lal. “You must be mad to try such a thing.”
“Zebby didn’t mind. He liked me on his back,” said Lotta.
Poor Lotta! She was angry and hurt because everyone scolded her. She had always been made a fuss of, she was one of the Wonder-Children—and now things were quite different. The little girl ran to tell Jeanne and Lisa all about it, and they, of course, were not at all good for her.
“You do as you like!” said naughty Lisa. “Britomart wouldn’t dare not to let you go into the ring! He knows how all the people love to watch you.”
“You’re jolly lucky,” said Jeanne. “We’d simply love to go into the ring—and we can both ride very well, you know—but we haven’t any horses of our own.”
Lotta had sometimes let the two girls ride on BlackBeauty, and it was quite true that they rode well. They could not do all Lotta’s wonderful tricks, but they were clever enough in their own way, and pretty, with their red curls and upturned noses.
Lotta went about more than ever with Jeanne and Lisa. They encouraged her to disobey, to be sulky and rude. Mrs. Brown became very angry with her.
“You are getting quite impossible, Lotta,” she said, when the little girl answered her rudely. “I can’t imagine what has happened to you. You used to be such a nice helpful child, and now you have altered so much I can hardly believe it is the same little girl.”
Lotta did not dare to be rude to Britomart, but she tried hard never to go near him, and she always ran away if he came near her. She spent a lot of her time with hot-tempered Madame Prunella, who was always pleased to tell Lotta how she had tricked Britomart by making her parrots screech so loudly that he could not make his voice heard.
“Listen, Lotta,” said Prunella to the little girl, who was sitting on the caravan steps, whilst Prunella sat in a wicker-chair outside, eating an orange. “I want you to hear something I’ve taught Sally, that green-and-red parrot over there. Sally! Say your piece!”