"Mr. Carter's goin'?" asked Peter, with a show of incredulity. "An' does he think it consonant wid the dignity o' his position to be attendin' circuses? I wouldn't 'a' believed it of him!" "He's goin' to help chaperon 'em." "I'm glad it ain't for pleasure. I'd hate to think o' the Honourable Jerome B. Carter descendin' so low." "I'm to serve supper to 'em when they come home, an' I'll have somethin' waitin' for you on the back stoop, Pete," she called after him as he turned away. Peter and Billy deposited their passengers at the entrance of the main tent, and withdrew to hitch the horses to the fence railing. A number of miscellaneous vehicles were drawn up around them--mud-spattered farmers' waggons, livery "buggies"--but private carriages with liveried coachmen were conspicuously lacking. Peter could not, accordingly, while away the tedium of waiting with the usual pleasant gossip; as for opening a conversation with Billy, he would as soon have thought of opening one with the nearest hitching-post. Billy's ideas were on a par with Billy's sparring, and in either case it was a waste of breath to bother with him. Peter sat for a time watching the crowd push about the entrance, the pass burning in his pocket. Then he climbed down, examined the harness, patted the horses, and glanced wistfully toward the flaming torches at either side of the door. "Say, Bill," he remarked in an offhand tone, "you stay here and watch these horses till I come back. I'm just goin' to step in an' see me friend the elephant trainer a minute. Sit on the lap robes, and keep yer eye on the whips; there's likely to be a lot o' sneak thieves around." He started off, and then paused to add, "If ye leaves them horses, I'll come back an' give ye the worst tannin' ye ever had in yer life." He presented his pass and was admitted. The show had not begun. A couple of clowns were throwing sawdust at each other in the ring, but this was palpably a mere overture to keep the audience in a pleasant frame of mind until the grand opening march of all the animals and all the players--advertised to take place promptly at eight, but already twenty minutes overdue. Peter, aware that it would not be wise to let his master see him, made himself as inconspicuous as possible. Hidden behind the broad back of a German saloon-keeper, he drifted with the crowd into the side tent, where the animals were kept. Here, vociferous showmen were urging a hesitating public to enter the side-shows, containing the cream of the exhibit, and only ten cents extra. Vendors of peanuts and popcorn and all-day-suckers were adding to the babel, while the chatter of monkeys and the surly grumbling of a big lion formed an intoxicating undertone.