Lord shook his head decidedly at this proposition.
"I didn't s'pose you would," said Toby, quickly; "but you didn't
seem to be selling anything, an' I thought I'd just see what you'd
say about it." And then he appeared suddenly to see something
wonderfully interesting behind him, which served as an excuse to
turn his reddening face away.
"I suppose your uncle Daniel makes you work for your living, don't
he?" asked Mr. Lord, after he had rearranged his stock of candy and
had added a couple of slices of lemon peel to what was popularly
supposed to be lemonade.
"That's what I think; but he says that all the work I do wouldn't
pay for the meal that one chicken would eat, an' I s'pose it's so,
for I don't like to work as well as a feller without any father and
mother ought to. I don't know why it is, but I guess it's because
I take up so much time eatin' that it kinder tires me out. I s'pose
you go into the circus whenever you want to, don't you?"
"Oh yes; I'm there at every performance, for I keep the stand under
the big canvas as well as this one out here."
There was a great big sigh from out Toby's little round stomach,
as he thought what bliss it must be to own all those good things
and to see the circus wherever it went.
"It must be nice," he said, as he faced the booth and its hard
visaged proprietor once more.
"How would you like it?" asked Mr.
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