She checked to make sure her mother was safely downstairs and occupied with the radio and her guests, and quietly made her way downstairs.

She was wearing a dark maroon dress with the tight skirt and the crep bottom that belled out, a black shawl over her shoulders to keep her warm.

It was 1924, on the night of June 18, that Margaret Shelburne decided to run away to join the circus. And she WOULD be accepted. Who wouldn't be interested in a three-foot-tall woman?

Seeing that her mother was still entertaining her guests and listening to the radio, Margaret crept on her hands and knees towards the front door. If she timed it just right, when her mother wasn't looking, she could open the front door and sneak out like a dog.

She saw her chance and she booked it.

She never looked back.

The night was still and muggy. Crickets chirped and Margaret kept to the shadows. She wasn't usually this shy, but tonight, she didn't want to be seen. Not until she had to be.

The circus wasn't far. She could see the outline of the merry go round from where she was standing. She hoped it was all it looked like. Dramatic. Exciting. Adventurous. She had no way of knowing that it would be, but not the way she imagined it.

She approached the front gates of the fair grounds and was accosted by a small, fidgety man with a black cane and a wild moustache.

"What business have you here tonight missie? Shouldn't you be at home in bed?"

Margaret placed her hands on her hips and stood up straight.

"I'm here on important business, sir. I've come to join the show." She replied in her deepest voice.

The man looked shocked and his top hat fell off. She bent to pick it up and handed it back to him.

"So may I pass through?" she asked.

The man appeared to think a moment, then shrugged and unlocked the gates.

"But be warned." He added as she was walking through. She paused to listen to the rest of the warning.

"The circus ain't all it's cracked up to be. And that Jimbo man ain't very nice. You be careful, there, miss." He finished, completely serious. Margaret studied his face a moment longer, puzzling it over and wondering who Jimbo was.

"I intend to be. Good evening." She replied.

The man tipped his hat.

"The same to you, my lady."