The story
“It had been a very exciting winter for the twins, largely because of Cousin Carolyn. Romantic things always were happening to their pretty country cousin whom their father had given a position in his office. The twins were just thirteen. Perhaps the most thrilling adventure of all had been their acquaintance with the acrobat. Never had the twins seen anything so wonderful as this young man, who hung fearlessly in mid-air, twisting his supple body into the strangest shapes. And when, after the performance, a man whom Carolyn knew, actually brought to them this prince of contortionists and introduced him, Marion and Madeline were overcome by the honor. Fred Morris—the acrobat—saw Cousin Carolyn many times after that. She made the twins her confidantes, and they loyally kept everything she told them a secret. It was not their fault that their father discovered Carolyn’s romance, that in a single hour their hero was banished, and their pretty cousin plunged into an abyss of woe. But this was all over, months ago. And now Carolyn and Peter Goddard were engaged. The twins had overheard their father say that at last Cousin Carolyn had a suitor who was worthy of her. And yet, Peter never in his life had swung from a trapeze. He was only a clerk in the office.
“In June, the twins’ father was called on a business trip to California, and it was arranged that Mrs. Marshall should go with him. ‘Aunt Sally’s is the best place for the twins.’ Marion and Madeline heard their father say. And their mother replied: ‘Yes, on that big farm they’ll be in quiet, wholesome surroundings, and Aunt Sally can keep an eye on them.’ The twins were delighted with the prospects of a summer in the country, and when they reached the Connecticut homestead they went wild with joy and the sense of freedom. But after two weeks of simple farm pleasures, their enthusiasm began to lag. There were no matinees, no vaudeville or motion picture shows—and after the unusual gaiety of the winter the twins missed them.
“On a certain Thursday—the day when Aunt Sally drove to town to do her weekly marketing—as circus arrived in the village. While Aunt Sally was bustling in and out of the stores, the twins watched the procession. They fell in with the crowd and followed them to the circus grounds. Peeping in under the big tent, they saw the ring performers rehearsing their stunts, and were filled with the zeal of emulation. So absorbed were both in their own antics that, when they suddenly heard somebody call them by name, they fell over in the grass—and lay there, staring up at their old friend, Fred Morris. Morris took the little girls into the tent. The circus people flocked around them. Marion and Madeline told them that they were tired of life in the country. Then a beautiful creature in a short, pink dress, whom Morris called Stella, his wife, told Madeline and Marion what an exciting life they might have if they would join the circus. The next night, when the show left town, the twins disappeared with it. Aunt Sally spent the worst week of her life trying to trace the runaways. At the end of that time she telegraphed Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. But the cleverest detectives in the city could make nothing of the case.
“Meanwhile, the twins had reached the height of their ambition. They had developed, under Morris’s tutelage, into daring, graceful little trapeze performers, billed as ‘The Flying Twins.’ Night after night they astonished and delighted hundreds of people. The show was touring the Middle West. Had they been nearer New York, their fame and their identity would have reached their parents. Marion and Madeline were the stars of the troupe. Their guardian watched their progress greedily. He was reaping a rich revenge against Vinald Marshall for the latter’s interference in his affair with Carolyn. Then came the fatal fall which crippled the master acrobat, and his interest in the twins became one not only of revenge, but of self-preservation. He depended upon them for his own support. The children became miserably homesick. But in answer to their pleadings that they be allowed to return, Morris only threatened them should they try to run away. Finally, the ex-acrobat overreached himself. He wrote an anonymous letter to Marshall, taunting him with the loss of his daughters. At last the detectives had a clue. Safe again in their parents’ arms, the two little girls cried until they couldn’t squeeze out another drop.”
Summary from Reel Life · 19 June 1915
