Mrs. Noah's Ark
MRS. NOAH FIGTRY stood upon the huge front gallery, between the Doric columns of the "big house," her hands clasped beneath her blue gingham apron, dispiritedly regarding the main road, a hundred yards away. Her pursed New England lips expressed disapproval. It was March, and March is disconsolate enough anywhere, but the cold gray day made the down-at-the-heels plantation seem more ruinous than ever. Mrs. Noah was alone in temporary possession of the house, having come from New England to take charge during her son-in-law's absence. The prospect of two weeks' loneliness in this dreary environment was, to a person of her lively temperament, depressing.
"If the Lord would only send something interesting, I wouldn't mind, if it was only a plaid pig," she mused.
As if in answer to this prayer, at that moment a little procession appeared coming round a turn of the road. It was led by a pleasant-looking man in blue overalls, who guided with his hands the shafts of a highly decorated circus cage on gilded wheels, which was pushed by a solemn, wrinkled, muddy elephant, bending his forehead to the rear of the car. The beast was directed in his labors by a barelegged Oriental-looking person with a turban and white blouse, who walked alongside. Behind this group stalked a giraffe, who bore, seated perilously astride, a buxom, smiling woman of some forty years.
"For the land sakes!" Mrs. Noah ejaculated, "if that don't beat the Book of Revelation! I wonder if I'm dreamin' 'em, or are they really alive? If that ain't the tag-end of a circus, I never see a wild-beast show in my life. I do believe they're turnin' in here, and me in my apron and curl-papers!"
Directly in front of the door the elephant, at a word from his driver, stopped, and the procession came to a standstill. The woman slid gracefully down from her perch, with a sigh of relief; the man in blue overalls dropped his shafts and came up to the front steps, taking off his hat.
"Good afternoon," he said, politely. "Pretty muddy roads you have along here."
"What in the world did you bring them critters in here for?" was Mrs. Noah's rejoinder. "If you expect to set up a show in my front yard, I may as well tell you that it ain't worth the trouble. They ain't nobody here but me and the malaria."
"Lady, I'd like to introduce the Princess Ziffio, the snake-charmer and contortionist, and Ramo Bung, the elephant-driver, late of Sorrowtop's Circus," the man explained. "My name is Steggins, and I'm a lion-tamer from the same show."
"I'm proud to know you. It ain't often I meet celebrities in these parts," was Mrs. Noah's welcome, as she placidly awaited further developments.
"You see, it's this way, lady," Mr. Steggins went on, affably: "The show's bust up on account of a small financial difficulty, bringing on a seizure by the sheriff. Now, as me and my partners ain't been paid our salaries for two months, we just laid our hands on what we could find last night and are holding them as security for the money that's due us. It ain't our fault that the manager was crooked, and we don't propose to pay his debts; so what we want you to do is to let us hide the animals in your place until we can find a scow to take 'em down the river and sell 'em."
"What in the world do you mean?" Mrs. Noah exclaimed. "I ain't got any tent, nor even a barn. I'm real sorry for you, but I don't see what I can do—There's the old mill down by the river."
"That won't do at all," said Steggins, uneasily; "the sheriff will look there first
