THE END OF SUMMER 267 



short-sighted cyclists performing, Aunt Sallies, rows of 

 goldfish bowls into which a light ball has to be pitched to 

 earn a prize, stalls full of toys, cheap jewellery and sweets 

 like bedded-out plants, and stout women pattering along- 

 side — bold women, with sleek black or yellow hair and 

 the bearing and countenance of women who have to 

 make their way in the world. Behind these, women are 

 finishing their toilet and their children's among the vans, 

 preparing meals over red crackling fires, and the horses 

 rest their noses on the stalls and watch the crowd; the 

 long yellow dogs are curled up among the wheels or 

 nosing in the crowd. 



There are men selling purses containing a sovereign 

 for sixpence, loud, fat cosmopolitans on a cockney basis 

 with a ceaseless flow of cajolery intermingled with sly 

 indecency; the country policeman in the background 

 puzzling over his duty in the matter, but in the end 

 paralyzed by the showmen's gift of words. One man 

 has before him a counter on which he asks you to cover 

 a red-painted disc with five smaller discs of zinc, charging 

 twopence for the attempt and promising a watch to the 

 great man who succeeds. After a batch of failures he 

 himself, with good-natured but bored face, shows how 

 easily it is done, and raising his eyes in despair craves for 

 more courage from the audience. The crowd looks on, 

 hesitating, until he singles out the most bashful country- 

 man at the back of the throng, saying : " I like your face. 

 You are a good sort. You have a cheerful face; it's the 

 rich have the sad faces. So I'll treat you to a go." The 

 hero steps forward and succeeds, but as it was a free trial 

 he receives no watch; trying again for twopence he fails. 

 Another tries : " By Jove ! that was a near one." A 



