End of the Line

Chapter Fourteen. The Fair

Pop could tell his son was smitten. 

Each competitor circled the ring twice, first at walking pace and then at a canter, before returning to the saddling enclosure where the judges had originally inspected the horses. After all the horses had strutted their stuff the riders led them, one by one in single file back in to the ring where they lined up in front of the judges. Discussions completed, the judges awarded prize ribbons to their third and second choices. The winner won a ribbon a silver trophy and a cash prize. Meg came away empty handed. 

The prize giving ceremony over, the children as one clamoured for the rides. Pop bailed out, claiming that he just had to visit the gardening exhibit. George at first was inclined to think that he just wanted to avoid entertaining the children, but he had to admit that his father had developed a real interest in gardening. This was quite amazing, as in England he had never shown the least bit of interest. 

The Midway rides and booths bore a striking resemblance to those at a hiring fair. There were slow moving roundabouts for the smaller children, a steam driven carousel for the more adventuresome and a small Ferris wheel that Betty insisted on riding. She claimed it was a safe way for her to experience heights. Bill was more interested in the rifle shooting. After many attempts with George's hand to help him aim, he won a prize - a wooden duck decoy.  

Betty jealously claimed that she deserved a prize too. She found one, a stuffed penguin almost as tall as she was, on display at a hoopla stand. By the time Meg found them, George was penniless and Betty was close to tears. Meg took over. On the third attempt, Meg's ring came to rest nestled around the appropriate peg. Meg had a friend for life. 

"Well at least I won something today." said Meg. 

"You should have won a prize at the horse show. You were the prettiest lady there." 

"Why Betty that's a nice thing for you to say, but I'm afraid they were judging the horses." 

"The competition was tough," said George. 

"Yes and its getting tougher every year. People are paying lots of money buying thoroughbreds now. A crossbreed like Blizzard doesn't stand a chance." 

"You did look great though. That outfit was so elegant." 

"But so impractical" said Meg." Does anyone ever wear it for real?" 

"Oh yes. The ladies at the Lowther hunts were all dressed like that, but none ever looked as dashing as you." 

"George Benson! Stop it right now. You're embarrassing me in front of the children." A sharp elbow to the ribs accompanied these words. "What do you think of the Midway then? Is it quite different to a fair in England?" 

"Actually no." 

"You haven't been looking in the right places. Let's head over to the sports field. Kids, come along, I'll buy you some candy floss on the way." 

They spent what was left of the afternoon in the bleachers watching conventional athletic events interspersed with sulky racing; a form of racing new to George. 

"Meg. Do they bet on these races?" 

"I don't know."

George looked around but he saw no evidence of the bookmakers that had been everywhere at Cartmel races. 

"Why do you ask?" 

"I was just curious. If they did, I would have expected to see Dan around here. 

"Does he like racing?" 

"Do birds fly?" 

The entertainment ended with various logging competitions featuring wood splitting, log chopping, sawing, and the Canadian equivalent of a caber toss.