"What's up now?" asked Mr. Dewey, coming out from behind his desk, and eyeing the panting boy curiously. "Won't the tickets pass?" "Not if they wait till I pass 'em," answered Tip in his prompt, saucy way. "I ain't going to the circus, not an _inch_," he added, as if to assure himself that he meant it. "But why not?" "Oh, I've got reasons." "Well, now, Tip," said Mr. Dewey, "that's really astonishing! Suppose you give us a few of your reasons. We don't know what to make of this." Tip didn't know what to say; he hesitated and thought, and finally did the best thing he _could_,--spoke out boldly. "I've made up my mind that I won't go to any more circuses, _ever_! I don't believe in 'em as much as I did." That wasn't it yet,--he had not owned his Master in the answer. Neither was Mr. Dewey satisfied. "But, Tip, give us the _reasons_; this is such a sudden change, you know." "Well," said Tip, "I've been reading about them just now." "About whom?" "Why, them circus fellows. They're up here at the tavern; they're drinking and fighting, and I don't know what; and I guess, by the looks of things, they're pretty wicked. The book I was reading said, Don't go near wicked men, turn around and go the other way; and I _mean_ to." And with this Tip whisked out of the house and around the corner. Mr. Dewey shrugged his shoulders. "The world turns around, sure enough," he said at last. "How do you know that?" and Mr. Minturn set his market basket on the step, and fanned himself with his hat. "I'm my own boy to-day, you see; give me something for my dinner. How did you find out that the world turned around?" "Why, Tip Lewis has taken to preaching against circuses. Will you have a roast to-day, Mr. Minturn? I gave him a ticket, and he just rushed in with it and informed us he wasn't going to circuses any more, because the Bible says they are wicked fellows. What do you think of that?" "Humph!" said Mr. Minturn. "The Bible says it would be better for a man, sometimes, if a millstone were about his neck, and he were in the bottom of the sea. I'd look out for that, if I were you. Hurry up with your meat; I ought to be at the store." Tip went home to Kitty. She still swung on the gate; at least she was there when he came up. "Oh, Tip," she said, "are you going to take me? Oh, Tip, _do_! I never asked you for anything before." Tip walked slowly up the yard, with his hands in his pockets, troubled,--not knowing what to say, or how to say it. At last he stopped and wheeled about. "Kitty, I can't; I can't go. I could get tickets if I dared, but I don't mean to go any more. They're bad, wicked men, and I'm trying to be"-- But Kitty twitched herself away from him, and wouldn't hear any more. "Do go off!" she said. "You're a mean, ugly, hateful boy! I'm sorry you got so awful good, if you can't do that little much for me. Go away and let me alone."