"You've got a trim little farm here," said Ben to Uncle Daniel, when the two went out to harness the horses; "an' I reckon that a man who has got land enough to support him is fixed jest about as well as he can be. I don't know of anything I'd rather be than a farmer, if I could only get away from circus life." "Whenever you want to leave that business," said Uncle Daniel solemnly and earnestly, "you come right here, and I'll show you the chance to become a farmer." "I'd like to," said Ben, with a sigh of regret that the matter seemed so impossible; "but I've been with a circus now, man an' boy, goin' on forty-one years, an' I s'pose I shall always be with one." Then he changed the conversation, making an arrangement with Uncle Daniel for pasturing the ponies that were to be left behind, and by the time the bargain was completed the horses were at the door. While Uncle Daniel and old Ben had been at the stables, Mr. Treat had been showing his liberality by giving Aunt Olive tickets for the side-show and circus, and inducing her to promise that she and Uncle Daniel would see both shows. He had also given Toby fully a dozen circus tickets for distribution among his friends; and then, as Uncle Daniel entered, he said: "I wish to express thanks--both for myself and my wife Lilly--for the very kind manner in which you have entertained us to-day." Before he could say anything more the others came to say good-bye, and he was disappointed again. Aunt Olive kissed Ella several times, while the parting with the others was almost as between old friends, and the guests started for the tent again, more than satisfied with their visit. "Now, Toby, you look me up jest after the show is out this afternoon, an' we'll fix it so's you shall have a chance to talk with Mr. Stubbs's brother," said Ben, as they were driving along. As a matter of course Toby promised to be there, and to bring Abner with him. "You said that little cripple had to live at the poor-farm, didn't you?" asked Ben, after quite a long pause. "Yes, an' it's 'cause he hain't got no father or mother, nor no Uncle Dan'l like I've got," said Toby sadly. "Hain't he got any relations anywhere?" "No; Uncle Dan'l said he didn't have a soul that he could go to." "It must be kinder hard for him to live there alone, an' I don't s'pose he'll ever be able to walk." Toby was not at all certain whether or not Abner could ever be cured; but he told the old driver what he knew of the lonely life the boy led. Ben did not appear to hear what was said, for he was in one of his deep studies and seemed unconscious of everything except the fact that his horses were going in the proper direction. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Toby," he said, after remaining silent until they were nearly at the tent. "I hain't got a child or a chick in the world, an' I'll take care of that boy." Toby looked up in surprise, as he repeated, in a puzzled way: "You'll take care of him?"