and Harry and Rob and Charlie and Morris and Cad were shouting their exultation at the only wonderful circus on earth. They all decided that the performances were not to begin, however, until Benny Briggs arrived. There could be no circus without Ben. No, indeed! There were stars of the arena among them, of various magnitudes, but Benny was the comet that outshone and outstripped them all. "Why don't he come along?" said Charlie, dancing a double-shuffle on the barn floor to let off his impatience. "Let's go and look for him," said Joe, and they all shuffled off down to the gate, thinking to see Benny with his nose pointed straight for that gate, or as straight as could be expected, considering its faithfulness in another direction. But no Benny was to be seen. "He can't be far off," said Joe, seizing an opportunity to look at his new silver watch, "for it's half-past ten now, and Ben is always here before ten--always _was_, I mean." "Let's go up to the top of the hill and meet him," proposed Will; "we can see him from there anyhow." So Charlie and Joe and Morris and Will and Cad started for the top of the hill, while Harry and Rob, who were a good deal inclined to wait for things to come to them, remained to swing on the gate. The five spies soon returned and reported that Benny was nowhere to be seen. Impatience now seized them all, and they flocked into the house to put it to grandma whether it wasn't mighty queer that Ben Briggs hadn't come. "He _hasn't come_?" exclaimed grandma, looking up over her glasses at the clock. "Why, what can be the matter? It's almost eleven o'clock!" "It's one minute and a quarter past," said Joe, appealing to his watch. "Your clock's 'leven minutes slow." "O, get out!" said Charlie, with a contemptuous sniff. "All the clocks are either fast or slow, according to that turnip." Here would have ensued a good deal of pro and con about watches, but grandma held them to the subject of Benny Briggs. She drew from them that they had been to the very top of the hill and couldn't see him coming. Grandma was surprised and disappointed. "It's incomprehensible," said she. "O, I say, grandma," groaned Charlie, flopping into a chair and fanning himself, with his hat, "_what_ a big word! In-com-pre-hen-si-ble! And the other day you said Prist-by-te-ri-an-ism! O my!" "P-p-p-p-pooh!" stuttered Morris, who was always a little ahead of everybody, except in conversation; "I know a l-l-l-l-longer word." "Let's hear you say it, then," shouted the rest of the boys. "Takes you to make long words," said Charlie. "I-i-i-i-i-i-i"--began Morris, embarrassed by the evident want of confidence in his ability. "Go it!" said Charlie. "Fire away!" said Joe. "In-co-co-co-co-co" proceeded Morris. "Spell it!" suggested Harry. "I-n, in, c-o-m-e, come," spelled Morris with great fluency, and then stopped short. "_Income!_" exclaimed two or three voices disdainfully. "Call _that_ a long word? Ho-ho!"