to Marianne.
“Art,” said Marianne, to no one in particular.
“It’s an abbreviation of my stage name,” he explained.
“It’s nice to know you don’t always speak in couplets,” replied Marianne.
“Actually, that’s my job. I do readings of poetry in that tent over there.” He waved toward a lime green tent next to a sign of a smiling peasant giving his thumbs-up approval. “Why don’t you come to see me? The show starts at noon,” he said hopefully.
“People actually pay to hear you read?” said Marianne, in disbelief.
“I take offense at that. I don’t just read—I perform,” he exclaimed, jumping up and striking a dramatic pose. “I bring the world of literature alive to anybody—for a nominal fee, of course, that being the very low price of one shilling. For this pittance, I will recite your very own quotation from Edwin Spancer’s epic masterpiece The Queen of the Faeries.”
“And what would you say to me?” asked Marianne, rising from her seat.
“Have you got a shilling?” he quipped, trying to control his smile, the end result being that he looked as though he were chewing some exceptionally hard toffee. Marianne found this endearing.
“That’s not a very good quotation,” she replied.
“Then how about this one: ‘Heaven and Earth did must collide, for an angel is standing before my eyes.’”
“That would be worth a shilling,” said Marianne, almost showing that she was impressed. Catching herself, she quickly replied, “But I don’t have a shilling.”
“I heard your sack jingle when you got up,” he teased.
“Well, I don’t have a shilling for you,” Marianne retorted. “Look in here and see. There is not one shilling marked ‘For Art,’” she said, thrusting her sack toward him. Art laughed as he reached forward in pretended seriousness.
“Stay where you are, you villain!” came Robin’s piercing voice as he burst onto the scene and charged at Art. “Are you okay, Marianne?” asked Robin, advancing on a very confused Art, who was warily watching Robin’s sword. “I know how to deal with the likes of you who would steal from a defenseless girl!” Robin continued, his sword now at Art’s neck.
“Robin, you’re wrong! He wasn’t trying to steal from me! We were just talking!” exclaimed Marianne.
“What kind of conversation ends with you handing over your money?” asked Robin, still keeping one eye on Art.
“I was paying Art for reciting poetry,” Marianne explained. “Really.”
“Then is that your excuse for not being anywhere near where we agreed to meet? I got terribly worried about you, Marianne. I looked everywhere. I don’t even want to tell you the thoughts that were racing through my head,” Robin admitted.
“I’m sorry, Robin,” said Marianne, hanging her head and watching the dust clouds that kicked up as she dragged her feet. “It won’t happen again.”
“It certainly won’t,” said Robin, leading Marianne away. “We are setting off now. Sorry, Bart,” said Robin, glaring at him as they walked away.
“It’s Art,” corrected Marianne.
“Marianne!” cried Art, running after them, “You forgot your book! Good luck with your reading.” The side of his mouth went up in a sweet smile.
“Bye, Art,” she whispered as Robin gave her a signal to hurry. “Good luck with your show.”
“I know it will make the audience say ‘Whoa!’” replied Art softly, waving until Marianne and Robin disappeared around the corner.
Out of sight, Robin wasted no time in assailing Art. “And furthermore, you had no right at all to go squandering our money on some clown because he can tell you how two words sound alike!” Robin’s tirade continued as they left the carnival grounds. His diatribe harped primarily on Marianne’s lack of thriftiness and why Art should be hung upside down until he got a “real job,” as Robin phrased it. Marianne rode in seething silence, puckering as though she’d just consumed a sour strawberry. When Robin criticized Art again, Marianne defended him. “You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do with this money! If it hadn’t been for me, you would have been a pearl on Penelope’s necklace! You’re angry because I’m sharing my attention with someone more cultured than you! A boy who doesn’t think you have to beat up on some goblin to feel good about himself!”
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