CHAPTER XX. A CHAT WITH A CANDY BUTCHER. Kit had a berth assigned him in one of the circus cars. His nearest neighbor was Harry Thorne, a young man of twenty-four, who filled the position of candy butcher. As this term may sound strange to my readers, I will explain that it is applied to the venders of candy, lemonade, peanuts, and other articles such as are patronized by those who come to see the show. It is really a very profitable business, as will be explained in the course of the story. Harry Thorne was social and ready to give Kit any information about the circus. "How long is it since you joined a circus?" asked Kit, after getting acquainted. "I was younger than you," answered Thorne. "Why did you join? What gave you the idea?" "A spirit of adventure, I think. Besides, there was a large family of us--I am the oldest--and it was necessary for me to do something." "That's a queer name--candy butcher." "It seems so to you, but I am used to it." "Did you become a candy butcher at once?" "Not till I was eighteen. Before that I ran errands and made myself generally useful. I thought of being an acrobat, like you, but I was too stout and not active enough." "I shouldn't think there would be much money made in your business," said Kit. "That shows you don't know much about circus matters. Last fall I ran in with seven hundred dollars saved, besides paying all my expenses during the six months I was out." "You ought to be pretty well off now, if you have been a candy butcher for five or six years." "I haven't a cent, and am owing two hundred dollars in Philadelphia." "How is that?" "You don't often find a circus man that saves money. It's easy come, easy go. But I send money home every season--three or four hundred dollars at least, if I do well." "That's a good thing any way. But if I were in your place I would put away some money every season." "I could do it, but it's hard to make up my mind." "I can't see how you can make such sums. It puzzles me." "We are paid a fixed salary, say twenty-five dollars a month, and commission on sales. I was always pretty lucky in selling, and my income has sometimes been very large. But I don't make much in large places. It is in the smaller towns that the money is made. When a country beau brings his girl to the circus, he don't mind expense. He makes up his mind to spend several dollars in having a good time--so he buys lemonade, peanuts, apples, and everything that he or his girl fancies. In the city, where there are plenty of places where such things can be bought, we don't sell much. In New York or Philadelphia I make very little more than my salary." "What is there most profit on?" asked Kit. "Well, I should say lemonade. You've heard of circus lemonade?" "Is there anything peculiar about it?"