We were determined that he should know of this honor that had come upon his family. It was a fine thing to be cashier of the Merrimack Bank, the trusted guardian of thousands of dollars, but was not this mere dust and ashes compared with leading a zebra in a circus procession? If each generation of his family were to rise in this manner, where might they not end? Mr. Vincent smiled at us, and said: "What?" "There's Horace!" we all screamed, pointing our fingers; "don't you see him? Leading the zebra!" By this time Mr. Vincent had adjusted his eye-glasses, and as he looked in the direction of his glorified nephew, that personage turned around for one final grin and wave of the hand. The change in expression on the visage of the bank-cashier was extraordinary. From mild benignity it turned to purple-faced consternation. "What?" he gasped; "what? _My Horace?_" Then he descended the steps swiftly, and plunged into the crowd on the sidewalk. Apparently he was bent on overtaking his nephew, but the throng blocked his way, and Horace had turned the corner of the next street before his uncle could reach him. Ed Mason and I did not waste time watching him, for we were discussing a plan. It seemed to promise success, and we only waited for the end of the procession to pass before putting it into operation. Then we detached ourselves from the others, and hastened through Main Street to Haskell's Field, where the tents were pitched for the great show in the afternoon. The field was nearly a mile distant, and the leaders of the procession had already begun to arrive when we got there. We wormed ourselves in between carts and piles of hay, amongst horses, venders of lemonade and peanuts, and dozens of boys and men. Horace and his zebra soon arrived and we sought him out in the crowd. "I came out here at five o'clock this morning," said he, "an' I helped bring water for the ellerphants, an' hay for the horses, an' then that man over there who took the zebra gave me five cents, an' said if I'd lead the zebra in the parade he'd give me a free ticket for the show this afternoon. Tommy Cheney got inside an' helped a man feed the kangaroos, an'--" "Do you s'pose we can water the ellerphants or anything?" "I dunno; it's nearly twelve o'clock now, ain't it? I've got to go home an' get dinner so's to be back here at one, if that man should want anything more, an' you can come back with me then, if you want to, an' p'r'aps you can do something an' get a ticket." We wanted no other invitation than this. We went back to town with Horace, determined to follow his plan. Like him we would demand our dinners early, and return to the circus field at one o'clock, under his guidance. Doubtless his influence with the zebra man would be all that was needed.