IX. THE DINNER PARTY
At noon Toby was thoroughly tired out, for whenever anyone spoke kindly to him Mr. Lord seemed to take a malicious pleasure in giving him extra tasks to do, until Toby began to hope that no one else would pay any attention to him. On this day he was permitted to go to dinner first, and after he returned he was left in charge of the booth. Trade being dull—as it usually was during the dinner hour—he had very little work to do after he had cleaned the glasses and set things to rights generally.
When, therefore, he saw the gaunt form of the skeleton emerge from his tent and come toward him he was particularly pleased, for he had begun to think very kindly of the thin man and his fleshy wife.
“Well, Toby,” said the skeleton, as he came up to the booth, carefully dusted Mr. Lord's private chair, and sat down very cautiously in it, as if he expected that it would break down under his weight, “I hear you've been making quite a hero of yourself by capturing the monkeys last night.”
Toby's freckled face reddened with pleasure as he heard these words, and he stammered out, with considerable difficulty, “I didn't do anything; it was Mr. Stubbs that brought 'em back.”
“Mr. Stubbs!” And the skeleton laughed so heartily that Toby was afraid he would dislocate some of his thinly covered joints. “When you was tellin' about Mr. Stubbs yesterday I thought you meant someone belonging to the company. You ought to have seen my wife Lilly shake with laughing when I told her who Mr. Stubbs was!”
“Yes,” said Toby, at a loss to know just what to say, “I should think she would shake when she laughs.”
“She does,” replied the skeleton. “If you could see her when something funny strikes her you'd think she was one of those big plates of jelly that they have in the bakeshop windows.” And Mr. Treat looked proudly at the gaudy picture which represented his wife in all her monstrosity of flesh. “She's a great woman, Toby, an' she's got a great head.”
Toby nodded his head in assent. He would have liked to say something nice regarding Mrs. Treat, but he really did not know what to say, so he simply contented himself and the fond husband by nodding.
“She thinks a good deal of you, Toby,” continued the skeleton, as he moved his chair to a position more favorable for him to elevate his feet on the edge of the counter, and placed his handkerchief under him as a cushion; “she's talking of you all the time, and if you wasn't such a little fellow I should begin to be jealous of you—I should, upon my word.”
“You're—both—very—good,” stammered Toby, so weighted down by a sense of the honor heaped upon him as to be at a loss for words.
“An' she wants to see more of you. She made me come out here now, when she knew Mr. Lord would be away, to tell you that we're goin' to have a little kind of a friendly dinner in our tent tomorrow—she's cooked it all herself, or she's going to—and we want you to come in an' have some with us.”
Toby's eyes glistened at the thought of the unexpected pleasure, and then his face grew sad as he replied, “I'd like to come first rate, Mr. Treat, but I don't s'pose Mr. Lord would let me stay away from the shop long enough.”
“Why, you won't have any work to do tomorrow, Toby—it's Sunday.”
“So it is!” said the boy, with a pleased smile, as he thought of the day of rest which was so near. And then he added, quickly: “An' this is Saturday afternoon. What fun the boys at home are havin'! You see, there hain't any school Saturday afternoon, an all the fellers go out in the woods.”
“And you wish you were there to go with them, don't you?” asked the skeleton, sympathetically.
“Indeed I do!” exclaimed Toby, quickly. “It's twice as good as any circus that ever was.”
“But you didn't think so before you came with us, did you?”
“I didn't know so much about circuses then as I do now,” replied the boy, sadly.
Mr. Treat saw that he was touching on a sore subject, and one which was arousing sad thoughts in his little companion's mind, and he hastened to change it at once.
“Then I can tell Lilly that you'll come, can I?”
“Oh yes, I'll be sure to be there; an' I want you to know just how good I think you both are to me.”
“That's all right, Toby,” said Mr. Treat, with a pleased expression on his face; “an' you may bring Mr. Stubbs with you, if you want.”
“Thank you,” said Toby. “I'm sure Mr. Stubbs will be just as glad to come as I shall. But where will we be tomorrow?”
“Right here. We always stay over Sunday at the place where we show Saturday. But I must be going, or Lilly will worry her life out of her for fear I'm somewhere getting cold. She's awful careful of me, that woman is. You'll be on hand tomorrow at one o'clock, won't you?”
“Indeed I will,” said Toby, emphatically, “an' I'll bring Mr. Stubbs with me, too.”
With a friendly nod of his head, the skeleton hurried away to reassure his wife that he was safe and well; and before he had hardly disappeared within the tent Toby had another caller, who was none other than his old friend Old Ben, the driver.
“Well, my boy,” shouted Ben, in his cheery, hearty tones, “I haven't seen you since you left the wagon so sudden last night. Did you get shook up much?”
“Oh no,” replied Toby. “You see I hain't very big; an' then I struck in the mud; so I got off pretty easy.”
“That's a fact; an' you can thank your lucky stars for it, too, for I've seen grown up men get pitched off a wagon in that way an break their necks doin' it. But has Job told you where you was going to sleep tonight? You know we stay over here till tomorrow.”
“I didn't think anything about that; but I s'pose I'll sleep in the wagon, won't I?”
“You can sleep at the hotel, if you want to; but the beds will likely be dirty; an' if you take my advice you'll crawl into some of the wagons in the tent.”
Ben then explained to him that, after his work was done that night, he would not be expected to report for duty until the time for starting on Sunday night, and concluded his remarks by saying:
“Now you know what your rights are, an don't you let Job impose on you in any way. I'll be round here after you get through work, an' we'll bunk in somewhere together.”
The arrival of Messrs. Lord and Jacobs put a stop to the conversation, and was the signal for Toby's time of trial. It seemed to him, and with good reason, that the chief delight these men had in life was to torment him, for neither ever spoke a pleasant word to him; and when one was not giving him some difficult work to do, or finding fault in some way, the other would be sure to do so; and Toby had very little comfort from the time he began work in the morning until he stopped at night.
It was not until after the evening performance was over that Toby had a chance to speak with Mr. Stubbs, and then he was so tired that he simply took the old monkey from the cage, nestled him under his jacket, and lay down with him to sleep in the place which Old Ben had selected.
When the morning came Mr. Stubbs aroused his young master at a much 'earlier hour than he would have awakened had he been left to himself, and the two went out for a short walk before breakfast. They went instinctively toward the woods; and when the shade of the trees was once reached, how the two reveled in their freedom! Mr. Stubbs climbed into the trees, swung himself from one to the other by means of his tail, gathered half ripe nuts, which he threw at his master, tried to catch the birds, and had a good time generally.
Toby, stretched at full length on the mossy bank, watched the antics of his pet, laughing boisterously at times as Mr. Stubbs would do some one thing more comical than usual, and forgot there was in this world such a thing as a circus or such a man as Job Lord. It was to Toby a morning without a flaw, and he took no heed of the time, until the sound of the church bells warned him of the lateness of the hour, reminding him at the same time of where he should be—where he would be, if he were at home with Uncle Daniel.
In the mean time the old monkey had been trying to attract his young master's attention, and, failing in his efforts, he came down from the tree, crept softly up to Toby, and nestled his head under the boy's arm.
This little act of devotion seemed to cause Toby's grief to burst forth afresh, and, clasping the monkey around the neck, hugging him close to his bosom, he sobbed:
“Oh, Mr. Stubbs, Mr. Stubbs, how lonesome we are! If we was only at Uncle Dan'l's we'd be the two happiest people in all this world. We could play on the hay, or go up to the pasture, or go down to the village; an' I'd work my fingers off if I could only be there just once more. It was wicked for me to run away, an' now I'm gettin' paid for it.”
He hugged the monkey closely, swaying his body to and fro, and presenting a perfect picture of grief. The monkey, not knowing what to make of this changed mood, cowered whimperingly in his arms, looking up into his face, and licking the boy's hands whenever he had the opportunity.
It was some time before Toby's grief exhausted itself; and then, still clasping the monkey, he hurried out of the woods toward the town and the now thoroughly hated circus tents.
The clocks were just striking one as Toby entered the inclosure used by the show as a place of performance, and, remembering his engagement with the skeleton and his wife, he went directly to their tent. From the odors which assailed him as he entered, it was very evident that a feast of no mean proportions was in course of preparation, and Toby's keen appetite returned in full vigor. Even the monkey seemed affected by the odor, for he danced about on his master's shoulder, and chattered so that Toby was obliged to choke him a little in order to make him present a respectable appearance.
When Toby reached the interior of the tent he was astonished at the extent of the preparations that were being made, and gazed around him in surprise. The platform on which the lean man and fat woman were in the habit of exhibiting themselves now bore a long table, loaded with eatables; and, from the fact that eight or ten chairs were ranged around it, Toby understood that he was not the only guest invited to the feast. Some little attempt had also been made at decoration by festooning that end of the tent where the platform was placed with two or three flags and some streamers, and the tent poles also were fringed with tissue paper of the brightest colors.
Toby had only time enough to notice this when the skeleton advanced toward him, and, with the liveliest appearance of pleasure, said, as he took him by the hands with a grip that made him wince:
“It gives me great joy, Mr. Tyler, to welcome you at one of our little home reunions, if one can call a tent, that is moved every day in the week, home.”
Toby hardly knew whom Mr. Treat referred to when he said “Mr. Tyler”; but by the time his hands were released from the bony grasp he understood that it was himself who was spoken to.
The skeleton then formally introduced him to the other guests present, who were sitting at one end of the tent, and evidently anxiously awaiting the coming feast.
“These,” said Mr. Treat, as he waved his hand toward two white haired, pink eyed young ladies who sat with their arms twined around each other's waist, and had been eying the monkey with some appearance of fear, “are the Miss Cushings, known to the world as the Albino Children; they command a large salary and form a very attractive feature of our exhibition.”
The young ladies arose at the same time, as if they had been the Siamese Twins and could not act independently of each other, and bowed.
Toby made the best bow he was capable of; and the monkey made frantic efforts to escape, as if he would enjoy twisting his paws in their perpendicular hair.
“And this,” continued Mr. Treat, pointing to a sickly, sour looking individual who was sitting apart from the others, with his arms folded, and looking as if he was counting the very seconds before the dinner should begin, “is the wonderful Signor Castro, whose sword swallowing feats you have doubtless heard of.”
Toby stepped back just one step, as if overwhelmed by awe at beholding the signor in the guise of a humble individual; and the gentleman who gained his livelihood by swallowing swords unbent his dignity so far as to unfold his arms and present a very dirty looking hand for Toby to shake. The boy took hold of the outstretched hand, wondering why the signor never used soap and water; and Mr. Stubbs, apparently afraid of the sour looking man, retreated to Toby's shoulder, where he sat chattering and scolding about the introduction.
Again the skeleton waved his hand, and this time he introduced “Mademoiselle Spelletti, the wonderful snake charmer, whose exploits in this country, and before the crowned heads of Europe had caused the whole world to stand aghast at her daring.”
Mademoiselle Spelletti was a very ordinary looking young lady of about twenty-five years of age, who looked very much as if her name might originally have been Murphy, and she, too, extended a hand for Toby to grasp—only her hand was clean, and she appeared to be a very much more pleasant acquaintance than the gentleman who swallowed swords.
This ended the introductions; and Toby was just looking around for a seat, when Mrs. Treat, the fat lady and the giver of the feast which was about to come, and which already smelled so invitingly, entered from behind a curtain of canvas, where the cooking stove was supposed to be located.
She had every appearance of being the cook for the occasion. Her sleeves were rolled up, her hair tumbled and frowzy, and there were several unmistakable marks of grease on the front of her calico dress.
She waited for no ceremony, but rushed up to Toby and, taking him in her arms, gave him such a squeeze that there seemed to be every possibility that she would break all the bones in his body; and she kept him so long in this bearlike embrace that Mr. Stubbs reached his little brown paws over and got such a hold of her hair that all present, save Signor Castro, rushed forward to release her from the monkey's grasp.
“You dear little thing!” said Mrs. Treat, paying but slight attention to the hair pulling she had just undergone, and holding Toby at arm's length so that she could look into his face, “you were so late that I was afraid you wasn't coming; and my dinner wouldn't have tasted half so good if you hadn't been here to eat some.”
Toby hardly knew what to say for this hearty welcome, and he managed to tell the large and kind hearted lady that he had had no idea of missing the dinner, and that he was very glad she wanted him to come.
“Want you to come, you dear little thing!” she exclaimed, as she gave him another hug, but careful not to give Mr. Stubbs a chance of grasping her hair again. “Of course I wanted you to come, for this dinner has been got up so that you could meet these people here, and so that they could see you.”
Toby was entirely at a loss to know what to say to this overwhelming compliment, and for that reason did not say anything, only submitting patiently to the third hug, which was all Mrs. Treat had time to give him, as she was obliged to rush behind the canvas screen again, as there were unmistakable sounds of something boiling over on the stove.
“You'll excuse me,” said the skeleton, with an air of dignity, waving his hand once more toward the assembled company, “but while introducing you to Mr. Tyler I had almost forgotten to introduce him to you. This, ladies and gentlemen”—and here he touched Toby on the shoulder, as if he were some living curiosity whose habits and mode of capture he was about to explain to a party of spectators—“is Mr. Toby Tyler, of whom you heard on the night when the monkey cage was smashed, and who now carries with him the identical monkey which was presented to him by the manager of this great show as a token of esteem for his skill and bravery in capturing the entire lot of monkeys without a single blow.”
By the time that Mr. Treat got through with his long speech Toby felt very much as if he were some wonderful creature whom the skeleton was exhibiting; but he managed to rise to his feet and duck his little red head in his best imitation of a bow. Then he sat down and hugged Mr. Stubbs to cover his confusion.
One of the Albino Children now came forward, and, while stroking Mr. Stubbs's hair, looked so intently at Toby that for the life of him he couldn't say which she regarded as the curiosity, himself or the monkey; therefore he hastened to say, modestly:
“I didn't do much toward catchin' the monkeys; Mr. Stubbs here did almost all of it, an' I only led 'em in.
“There, there, my boy,” said the skeleton, in a fatherly tone, “I've heard the whole story from Old Ben, an' I sha'n't let you get out of it like that. We all know what you did, an' it's no use for you to deny any part of it.”
X. MR. STUBBS AT A PARTY
Toby was about to say that he did not intend to represent the matter other than it really was, when a voice from behind the canvas screen arrested further conversation.
“Sam-u-el, come an' help me carry these things in.”
Something very like a smile of satisfaction passed over Signor Castro's face as he heard this, which told him that the time for the feast was near at hand; and the snake charmer, as well as the Albino Children, seemed quite as much pleased as did the sword swallower.
“You will excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” said the skeleton, in an important tone; “I must help Lilly, and then I shall have the pleasure of helping you to some of her cooking, which, if I do say it, that oughtn't, is as good as can be found in this entire country.”
Then he, too, disappeared behind the canvas screen.
Left alone, Toby looked at the ladies, and the ladies looked at him, in perfect silence, while the sword swallower grimly regarded them all, until Mr. Treat reappeared, bearing on a platter an immense turkey, as nicely browned as any Thanksgiving turkey Toby ever saw. Behind him came his fat wife, carrying several dishes, each of which emitted a most fragrant odor; and as these were placed upon the table the spirits of the sword swallower seemed to revive, and he smiled pleasantly; while even the ladies appeared animated by the sight and odor of the good things which they were to be called upon so soon to pass judgment.
Several times did Mr. and Mrs. Treat bustle in and out from behind the screen, and each time they made some addition to that which was upon the table, until Toby began to fear that they would never finish, and the sword swallower seemed unable to restrain his impatience.
At last the finishing touch had been put to the table, the last dish placed in position, and then, with a certain kind of grace, which no one but a man as thin as Mr. Treat could assume, he advanced to the edge of the platform and said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, nothing gives me greater pleasure than to invite you all, including Mr. Tyler's friend Stubbs, to the bountiful repast which my Lilly has prepared for—”
At this point Mr. Treat's speech—for it certainly seemed as if he had commenced to make one—was broken off in a most summary manner. His wife had come up behind him and, with as much ease as if he had been a child, lifted him from off the floor and placed him gently in the chair at the head of the table.
“Come right up and get dinner,” she said to her guests. “If you had waited until Samuel had finished his speech everything on the table would have been stone cold.”
The guests proceeded to obey her kindly command; and it is to be regretted that the sword swallower had no better manners than to jump on to the platform with one bound and seat himself at the table with the most unseemly haste. The others, and more especially Toby, proceeded in a leisurely and more dignified manner.
A seat had been placed by the side of the one intended for Toby for the accommodation of Mr. Stubbs, who suffered a napkin to be tied under his chin, and behaved generally in a manner that gladdened the heart of his young master.
Mr. Treat cut generous slices from the turkey for each guest, and Mrs. Treat piled their plates high with all sorts of vegetables, complaining, after the manner of housewives generally, that the food was not cooked as she would like to have had it, and declaring that she had had poor luck with everything that morning, when she firmly believed in her heart that her table had never looked better.
After the company had had the edge taken off their appetites—which effect was produced on the sword swallower only after he had been helped three different times, the conversation began by the fat woman asking Toby how he got along with Mr. Lord.
Toby could not give a very good account of his employer, but he had the good sense not to cast a damper on a party of pleasure by reciting his own troubles; so he said, evasively:
“I guess I shall get along pretty well, now that I have got so many friends.”
Just as he had commenced to speak the skeleton had put into his mouth a very large piece of turkey—very much larger in proportion than himself—and when Toby had finished speaking he started to say something evidently not very complimentary to Mr. Lord. But what it was the company never knew; for just as he opened his mouth to speak, the food went down the wrong way, his face became a bright purple, and it was quite evident that he was choking.
Toby was alarmed, and sprang from his chair to assist his friend, upsetting Mr. Stubbs from his seat, causing him to scamper up the tent pole, with the napkin still tied around his neck, and to scold in his most vehement manner. Before Toby could reach the skeleton, however, the fat woman had darted toward her lean husband, caught him by the arm, and was pounding his back, by the time Toby got there, so vigorously that the boy was afraid her enormous hand would go through his tissue paper like frame.
“I wouldn't,” said Toby, in alarm; “you may break him.”
“Don't you get frightened,” said Mrs. Treat, turning her husband completely over, and still continuing the drumming process. “He's often taken this way; he's such a glutton that he'd try to swallow the turkey whole if he could get it in his mouth, an' he's so thin that 'most anything sticks in his throat.”
“I should think you'd break him all up,” said Toby, apologetically, as he resumed his seat at the table; “he don't look as if he could stand very much of that sort of thing.”
But apparently Mr. Treat could stand very much more than Toby gave him credit for, because at this juncture he stopped coughing, and his face fast assumed its natural hue.
His attentive wife, seeing that he had ceased struggling, lifted him in her arms and sat him down in his chair with a force that threatened to snap his head off.
“There!” she said, as he wheezed a little from the effects of the shock, “now see if you can behave yourself an' chew your meat as you ought to! One of these days when you're alone you'll try that game, and that 'll be the last of you.”
“If he'd try to do one of my tricks long enough he'd get so that there wouldn't hardly anything choke him,” the sword swallower ventured to suggest, mildly, as he wiped a small stream of cranberry sauce from his chin and laid a well polished turkey bone by the side of his plate.
“I'd like to see him try it!” said the fat lady, with just a shade of anger in her voice. Then turning toward her husband, she said, emphatically, “Samuel, don't you ever let me catch you swallowing a sword!”
“I won't, my love, I won't; and I will try to chew my meat more,” replied the very thin glutton, in a feeble tone. Toby thought that perhaps the skeleton might keep the first part of that promise, but he was not quite sure about the last.
It required no little coaxing on the part of both Toby and Mrs. Treat to induce Mr. Stubbs to come down from his lofty perch; but the task was accomplished at last, and by the gift of a very large doughnut he was induced to resume his seat at the table.
The time had now come when the duties of a host, in his own peculiar way of viewing them, devolved upon Mr. Treat, and he said, as he pushed his chair back a short distance from the table and tried to polish the front of his vest with his napkin:
“I don't want this fact lost sight of, because it is an important one: everyone must remember that we have gathered here to meet and become better acquainted with the latest and best addition to this circus, Mr. Toby Tyler.”
Poor Toby! As the company all looked directly at him, and Mrs. Treat nodded her enormous head energetically, as if to say that she agreed exactly with her husband, the poor boy's face grew very red and the squash pie lost its flavor.
“Although Mr. Tyler may not be exactly one of us, owing to the fact that he does not belong to the profession, but is only one of the adjuncts to it, so to speak,” continued the skeleton, in a voice which was fast being raised to its highest pitch, “we feel proud, after his exploits at the time of the accident, to have him with us, and gladly welcome him now, through the medium of this little feast prepared by my Lilly.”
Here the Albino Children nodded their heads in approval, and the sword swallower gave a grunt of assent; and, thus encouraged, the skeleton proceeded:
“I feel, when I say that we like and admire Mr. Tyler, all present will agree with me and all would like to hear him say a word for himself.”
The skeleton seemed to have expressed the views of those present remarkably well, judging from their expressions of pleasure and assent, and all waited for the honored guest to speak.
Toby knew that he must say something, but he couldn't think of a single thing; he tried over and over again to call to his mind something which he had read as to how people acted and what they said when they were expected to speak at a dinner table, but his thoughts refused to go back for him, and the silence was actually becoming painful. Finally, and with the greatest effort, he managed to say, with a very perceptible stammer, and while his face was growing very red:
“I know I ought to say something to pay for this big dinner that you said was gotten up for me, but I don't know what to say, unless to thank you for it. You see, I hain't big enough to say much, an', as Uncle Dan'l says, I don't amount to very much, 'cept for eatin', an' I guess he's right. You're all real good to me, an' when I get to be a man I'll try to do as much for you.”
Toby had risen to his feet when he began to make his speech, and while he was speaking Mr. Stubbs had crawled over into his chair. When he finished he sat down again without looking behind him, and of course sat plump on the monkey. There was a loud outcry from Mr. Stubbs, a little frightened noise from Toby, an instant's scrambling, and then boy, monkey, and chair tumbled off the platform, landing on the ground in an indescribable mass, from which the monkey extricated himself more quickly than Toby could, and again took refuge on the top of the tent pole.
Of course all the guests ran to Toby's assistance; and while the fat woman poked him all over to see that none of his bones were broken, the skeleton brushed the dirt from his clothes.
All this time the monkey screamed, yelled, and danced around on the tent pole and ropes, as if his feelings had received a shock from which he could never recover.
“I didn't mean to end it up that way, but it was Mr. Stubbs's fault,” said Toby, as soon as quiet had been restored and the guests, with the exception of the monkey, were seated at the table once more.
“Of course you didn't,” said Mrs. Treat, in a kindly tone. “But don't you feel bad about it one bit, for you ought to thank your lucky stars that you didn't break any of your bones.”
“I s'pose I had,” said Toby, soberly, as he looked back at the scene of his disaster, and then up at the chattering monkey that had caused all the trouble.
Shortly after this, Mr. Stubbs having again been coaxed down from his lofty position, Toby took his departure, promising to call as often during the week as he could get away from his exacting employers.
Just outside the tent he met Old Ben, who said, as he showed signs of indulging in another of his internal laughing spells:
“Hello! has the skeleton an' his lily of a wife been givin' a blowout to you, too?”
“They invited me in there to dinner,” said Toby, modestly.
“Of course they did—of course they did,” replied Ben, with a chuckle; “they carries a cookin' stove along with 'em, so's they can give these little spreads whenever we stay over a day in a place. Oh, I've been there!”
“And did they ask you to make a speech?”
“Of course. Did they try it on you?”
“Yes,” said Toby, mournfully, “an' I tumbled off the platform when I got through.”
“I didn't do exactly that,” replied Ben, thoughtfully; “but I s'pose you got too much steam on, seein' 's how it was likely your first speech. Now you'd better go into the tent an try to get a little sleep, 'cause we've got a long ride tonight over a rough road, an' you won't get more 'n a cat nap all night.”
“But where are you going?” asked Toby, as he shifted Mr. Stubbs over to his other shoulder, preparatory to following his friend's advice.
“I'm goin' to church,” said Ben, and then Toby noticed for the first time that the old driver had made some attempt at dressing up. “I've been with the circus, man an boy, for nigh to forty years, an' I allus go to meetin' once on Sunday. It's somethin' I promised my old mother I would do, an' I hain't broke my promise yet.”
“Why don't you take me with you?” asked Toby, wistfully, as he thought of the little church on the hill at home, and wished—oh, so earnestly!—that he was there then, even at the risk of being thumped on the head with Uncle Daniel's book.
“If I'd seen you this mornin' I would,” said Ben; “but now you must try to bottle up some sleep ag'in' tonight, an' next Sunday I'll take you.”
With these words Old Ben started off, and Toby proceeded to carry out his wishes, although he rather doubted the possibility of “bottling up” any sleep that afternoon.
He lay down on the top of the wagon, after having put Mr. Stubbs inside, with the others of his tribe, and in a very few moments the boy was sound asleep, dreaming of a dinner party at which Mr. Stubbs made a speech and he himself scampered up and down the tent pole.
XI. A STORMY NIGHT
When Toby awoke it was nearly dark, and the bustle around him told very plainly that the time for departure was near at hand. He rubbed his eyes just enough to make sure that he was thoroughly awake, and then jumped down from his rather lofty bed, and ran around to the door of the cage to assure himself that Mr. Stubbs was safe. This done, his preparations for the journey were made.
Now Toby noticed that each one of the drivers was clad in rubber clothing, and, after listening for a moment, he learned the cause of their waterproof garments. It was raining very hard, and Toby thought with dismay of the long ride that he would have to take on the top of the monkeys' cage, with no protection whatever save that afforded by his ordinary clothing.
While he was standing by the side of his wagon, wondering how he should get along, Old Ben came in. The water was pouring from his clothes in little rivulets, and he afforded most unmistakable evidence of the damp state of the weather.
“It's a nasty night, my boy,” said the old driver, in much the same cheery tone that he would have used had he been informing Toby that it was a beautiful moonlight evening.
“I guess I'll get wet,” said Toby, ruefully, as he looked up at the lofty seat which he was to occupy.
“Bless me!” said Ben, as if the thought had just come to him, “it won't do for you to ride outside on a night like this. You wait here, an' I'll see what I can do for you.”
The old man hurried off to the other end of the tent, and almost before Toby thought he had time to go as far as the ring he returned.
“It's all right,” he said, and this time in a gruff voice, as if he were announcing some misfortune; “you 're to ride in the women's wagon. Come with me.”
Toby followed without a question, though he was wholly at a loss to understand what the “women's wagon” was, for he had never seen anything which looked like one.
He soon learned, however, when Old Ben stopped in front—or, rather, at the end—of a long, covered wagon that looked like an omnibus, except that it was considerably longer, and the seats inside were divided by arms, padded, to make them comfortable to lean against.
“Here's the boy,” said Ben, as he lifted Toby up on the step, gave him a gentle push to intimate that he was to get inside, and then left him.
As Toby stepped inside he saw that the wagon was nearly full of women and children; and fearing lest he should take a seat that belonged to someone else, he stood in the middle of the wagon, not knowing what to do.
“Why don't you sit down, little boy?” asked one of the ladies, after Toby had remained standing nearly five minutes and the wagon was about to start.
“Well,” said Toby, with some hesitation, as he looked around at the two or three empty seats that remained, “I didn't want to get in anybody else's place an' I didn't know where to sit.”
“Come right here,” said the lady, as she pointed to a seat by the side of a little girl who did not look any older than Toby; “the lady who usually occupies that seat will not be here tonight, and you can have it.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” said Toby, as he sat timidly down on the edge of the seat, hardly daring to sit back comfortably, and feeling very awkward meanwhile, but congratulating himself on being thus protected from the pouring rain.
The wagon started, and as each one talked with her neighbor, Toby felt a most dismal sense of loneliness, and almost wished that he was riding on the monkey cart with Ben, where he could have someone to talk with. He gradually pushed himself back into a more comfortable position, and had then an opportunity of seeing more plainly the young girl who rode by his side.
She was quite as young as Toby, and small of her age; but there was an old look about her face that made the boy think of her as being an old woman cut down to fit children's clothes. Toby had looked at her so earnestly that she observed him, and asked, “What is your name?”
“Toby Tyler.”
“What do you do in the circus?”
“Sell candy for Mr. Lord.”
“Oh! I thought you was a new member of the company.”
Toby knew by the tone of her voice that he had fallen considerably in her estimation by not being one of the performers, and it was some little time before he ventured to speak; and then he asked, timidly, “What do you do?”
“I ride one of the horses with mother.”
“Are you the little girl that comes out with the lady an' four horses?” asked Toby, in awe that he should be conversing with so famous a person.
“Yes, I am. Don't I do it nicely?”
“Why, you're a perfect little—little—fairy!” exclaimed Toby, after hesitating a moment to find some word which would exactly express his idea.
This praise seemed to please the young lady, and in a short time the two became very good friends, even if Toby did not occupy a more exalted position than that of candy seller. She had learned from him all about the accident to the monkey cage, and about Mr. Stubbs, and in return had told him that her name was Ella Mason, though on the bills she was called “Mademoiselle Jeannette.”
For a long time the two children sat talking together, and then Mademoiselle Jeannette curled herself up on the seat, with her head in her mother's lap, and went to sleep.
Toby had resolved to keep awake and watch her, for he was struck with admiration at her face; but sleep got the better of him in less than five minutes after he had made the resolution, and he sat bolt upright, with his little round head nodding and bobbing until it seemed almost certain that he would shake it off.
When Toby awoke the wagon was drawn up by the side of the road, the sun was shining brightly, preparations were being made for the entree into town, and the harsh voice of Mr. Job Lord was shouting his name in a tone that boded no good for poor Toby when he should make his appearance.
Toby would have hesitated before meeting his angry employer but that he knew it would only make matters worse for him when he did show himself, and he mentally braced himself for the trouble which he knew was coming. The little girl whose acquaintance he had made the night previous was still sleeping; and, wishing to say goodby to her in some way without awakening her, he stooped down and gently kissed the skirt of her dress. Then he went out to meet his master.
Mr. Lord was thoroughly enraged when Toby left the wagon, and saw the boy just as he stepped to the ground. The angry man gave a quick glance around, to make sure that none of Toby's friends were in sight, and then caught him by the coat collar and commenced to whip him severely with the small rubber cane that he usually carried.
Mr. Job Lord lifted the poor boy entirely clear of the ground, and each blow that he struck could be heard almost the entire length of the circus train.
“You've been makin' so many acquaintances here that you hain't willin' to do any work,” he said, savagely, as he redoubled the force of his blows.
“Oh, please stop! please stop!” shrieked the poor boy in his agony. “I'll do everything you tell me to, if you won't strike me again!”
This piteous appeal seemed to have no effect upon the cruel man, and he continued to whip the boy, despite his cries and entreaties, until his arm fairly ached from the exertion and Toby's body was crossed and recrossed with the livid marks of the cane.
“Now let's see whether you'll 'tend to your work or not!” said the man as he flung Toby from him with such force that the boy staggered, reeled, and nearly fell into the little brook that flowed by the roadside. “I'll make you understand that all the friends you've whined around in this show can't save you from a lickin' when I get ready to give you one! Now go an' do your work that ought to have been done an hour ago!”
Mr. Lord walked away with the proud consciousness of a man who has achieved a great victory, and Toby was limping painfully along toward the cart that was used in conveying Mr. Lord's stock in trade, when he felt a tiny hand slip into his and heard a childish voice say:
“Don't cry, Toby. Sometime, when I get big enough, I'll make Mr. Lord sorry that he whipped you as he did; and I'm big enough now to tell him just what kind of a man I think he is.”
Looking around, Toby saw his little acquaintance of the evening previous, and he tried to force back the big tears that were rolling down his cheeks as he said, in a voice choked with grief: “You're awful good, an' I don't mind the lickin' when you say you're sorry for me. I s'pose I deserve it for runnin' away from Uncle Dan'l.”
“Did it hurt you much?” she asked, feelingly.
“It did when he was doin' it,” replied Toby, manfully, “but it don't a bit, now that you've come.”
“Then I'll go and talk to that Mr. Lord, and I'll come and see you again after we get into town,” said the little miss, as she hurried away to tell the candy vender what she thought of him.
That day, as on all others since he had been with the circus, Toby went to his work with a heavy heart, and time and time again did he count the money which had been given him by kind hearted strangers, to see whether he had enough to warrant his attempting to run away. Three dollars and twenty-five cents was the total amount of his treasure, and, large as that sum appeared to him, he could not satisfy himself that he had sufficient to enable him to get back to the home which he had so wickedly left. Whenever he thought of this home, of the Uncle Daniel who had in charity cared for him—a motherless, fatherless boy—and of returning to it, with not even as much right as the Prodigal Son, of whom he had heard Uncle Daniel tell, his heart sank within him and he doubted whether he would be allowed to remain even if he should be so fortunate as ever to reach Guilford again.
This day passed, so far as Toby was concerned, very much as had the others: he could not satisfy either of his employers, try as hard as he might; but, as usual, he met with two or three kindly disposed people, who added to the fund that he was accumulating for his second venture of running away by little gifts of money, each one of which gladdened his heart and made his trouble a trifle less hard to bear.
During the entire week he was thus equally fortunate. Each day added something to his fund, and each night it seemed to Toby that he was one day nearer the freedom for which he so ardently longed.
The skeleton, the fat lady, Old Ben, the Albino Children, little Ella, and even the sword swallower, all gave him a kindly word as they passed him while he was at his work, or saw him as the preparations for the grand entree were being made.
The time had passed slowly to Toby, and yet Sunday came again—as Sundays always come; and on this day Old Ben hunted him up, made him wash his face and hands until they fairly shone from very cleanliness, and then took him to church. Toby was surprised to find that it was really a pleasant thing to be able to go to church after being deprived of it, and was more light hearted than he had yet been since he left Guilford when he returned to the tent at noon.
The skeleton had invited him to another dinner party, but Toby had declined the invitation, agreeing to present himself in time for supper instead. He hardly cared to go through the ordeal of another state dinner; and besides, he wanted to go off to the woods with the old monkey, where he could enjoy the silence of the forest, which seemed like a friend to him, because it reminded him of home.
Taking the monkey with him as usual, he inquired the nearest way to a grove, and, without waiting for dinner, started off for an afternoon's quiet enjoyment.