But the shopwoman's eyes rested on the crutch, and the sight of it
appeared to mollify her.

"My gracious! I do believe you 're the child was hurt at Maggs's Circus
and taken to hospital."

Tilda nodded.

"Did you see me?"

"Carried by on a stretcher--and your face the colour of _that_."
The woman pointed to the marble counter-top.

"I was a serious case," said Tilda impressively. "The people at the
Good Samaritan couldn' remember admittin' the likes of it. There were
complications."

"You don't say!"

"But what's become of Maggs's?"

"Maggs's left a week ago come Tuesday. I know, because they used to buy
their milk of me. They were the first a'most, and the last was the
Menagerie and Gavel's Roundabouts. _They_ packed up last night.
It must be a wearin' life," commented the shopwoman. "But for my part I
like the shows, and so I tell Damper--that's my 'usband. They put a bit
of colour into the place while they last, besides bein' free-'anded with
their money. Light come light go, I reckon; but anyway, it's different
from cows. So you suffered from complications, did you?"