"They say they ain't no ticket wagon, and they ain't going to be," says Silas. "What you going to make out that?" "Blisterin' Benson!" says Timothy Toplady. "What I think is this, they're kidding us." Lucy stood opening up a little bag she had. "Here's one of the slips they threw round this morning," she says; "I dunno--" She had it out and we studied it. We'd all seen them blowing round the streets, but nobody had paid any attention. She held it out and they all stared at it: FRIENDSHIP VILLAGE IS INVITED TO COME TO THE CIRCUS THIS AFTERNOON FREE NO TICKETS ON SALE FREE ADMISSION FOR FRIENDSHIP VILLAGE "My gracious," says Mis' Sykes, "I never heard of such a thing since the world began." "Land, land!" says Mis' Toplady. "But what does it _mean_?" "What _does_ it mean?" says Silas Sykes. "What are we all being a party to?" "I guess it's _who_ are we being a party to, Silas," I says, mild. They all looked at me. And then they looked where I was looking, and I was looking at something hard. Coming out of the main tent was a mass of struggling, wriggling, dancing humanity--little humanity--in short, the boys that had rode in the big wagon. And walking in the midst of them was a man. At first not even I recognized him. He had his coat off, and his collar was turned in, his hat was on the back of his head, and he was smiling throughout his whole face, which was red. "Look-at!" says I. "I guess that's who we're the party to--all of us." "What do you _mean_?" Silas says again. "I mean," says I, "that Nick Nordman's had this whole circus come here to the village and give it to us free. And I say, let's us rush down there and drag him up here to eat with us!" It came to them so sudden that they all moved off like one man, and, as we started together, not caring who stole the whole lunch that we left laying idle under the tree, I turned and took a look at Lucy. Land, she looked as I haven't seen her look in twenty years! Her head was back, her eyes were bright, her face was bright, and she didn't know one of us was there. She just went down the slope, running. We came on him as he was distributing nickels destined for the peanut man that had just got his wagon going, savory. Nick didn't see us till we were right there, and then the nicest shamefaced look come over him, and he threw the rest of the nickels among the boys and left them scrambling, and met us. "Nick Nordman! _Is_ this your doings?" Silas plumped it at him, accusing. "Gosh, no!" says Nick, grinning like a schoolboy. "It's the kids' doin's." And when a millionaire can say "Gosh" like he said it, you can't feel remote from him. Nobody could. Oh, how we talked at him, all round, a good many at a time. And I think everything there was to say, we said it. Anyway, I can't think of any exclamation to speak of that we left unexclaimed.