Say, why 'n't
you come along? I promised you the last time. That's jist your
mother callin' you. Let on you don't hear her. Aw, stay. Aw,
you don't either have to go. Say. Less you and me get up early,
and go see the circus come in town, will you? I will, if you will.
All right. Remember now. Don't you tell anybody what I told you.
You know."
If a fellow just only could run off with a circus! Wouldn't it be
great? No more splitting kindling and carrying in coal; no more:
"Hurry up, now, or you'll be late for school;" no more poking
along in a humdrum existence, never going any place or seeing
anything, but the glad, free, untrammeled life, the life of a
circus-boy, standing up on top of somebody's head (you could pretend
he was your daddy. Who'd ever know the difference?) and your leg
stuck up like five minutes to six, and him standing on top of a
horse - and the horse going around the ring, and the ring master
cracking his whip - aw, say! How about it?
Maybe the show-people would take you even if you didn't have two
joints to common folks' one, and hadn't had early advantages in the
way of plenty of snakes to try the grease out of. And then . . .
and then. . . . Travel all around, and be in a new town every day!
And see things! The water-works, and Main Street, and the Soldiers'
Monument, and the Second Presbyterian Church.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175