Toby could scarcely restrain himself at the prospect of this golden
future that had so suddenly opened before him. He tried to express his
gratitude, but could only do so by evincing his willingness to commence
work at once.
“No, no, that won't do,” said Mr. Lord, cautiously. “If your uncle
Daniel should see you working here, he might mistrust something, and
then you couldn't get away.”
“I don't believe he'd try to stop me,” said Toby, confidently; “for he's
told me lots of times that it was a sorry day for him when he found me.”
“We won't take any chances, my son,” was the reply, in a very benevolent
tone, as he patted Toby on the head and at the same time handed him
a piece of pasteboard. “There's a ticket for the circus, and you come
around to see me about ten o'clock tonight. I'll put you on one of the
wagons, and by' tomorrow morning your uncle Daniel will have hard work
to find you.”
If Toby had followed his inclinations, the chances are that he would
have fallen on his knees and kissed Mr. Lord's hands in the excess of
his gratitude. But not knowing exactly how such a show of thankfulness
might be received, he contented himself by repeatedly promising that he
would be punctual to the time and place appointed.
He would have loitered in the vicinity of the candy stand in order that
he might gain some insight into the business; but Mr. Lord advised him
to remain away, lest his uncle Daniel would see him, and suspect where
he had gone when he was missed in the morning.
As Toby walked around the circus grounds, whereon was so much to attract
his attention, he could not prevent himself from assuming an air of
proprietorship. His interest in all that was going on was redoubled,
and in his anxiety that everything should be done correctly and in the
proper order he actually, and perhaps for the first time in his life,
forgot that he was hungry. He was really to travel with a circus, to
become a part, as it were, of the whole, and to be able to see its many
wonderful and beautiful attractions every day.
Even the very tent ropes had acquired a new interest for him, and
the faces of the men at work seemed suddenly to have become those of
friends. How hard it was for him to walk around unconcernedly: and how
especially hard to prevent his feet from straying toward that tempting
display of dainties which he was to sell to those who came to see and
enjoy, and who would look at him with wonder and curiosity! It was very
hard not to be allowed to tell his playmates of his wonderfully good
fortune; but silence meant success, and he locked his secret in his
bosom, not even daring to talk with anyone he knew, lest he should
betray himself by some incautious word.
He did not go home to dinner that day, and once or twice he felt
impelled to walk past the candy stand, giving a mysterious shake of the
head at the proprietor as he did so. The afternoon performance passed
off as usual to all of the spectators save Toby. He imagined that each
one of the performers knew that he was about to join them; and even
as he passed the cage containing the monkeys he fancied that one
particularly old one knew all about his intention of running away.
Of course it was necessary for him to go home at the close of the
afternoon's performance, in order to get one or two valuable articles of
his own--such as a boat, a kite, and a pair of skates--and in order
that his actions might not seem suspicious. Before he left the grounds,
however, he stole slyly around to the candy stand, and informed Mr. Job
Lord, in a very hoarse whisper, that he would be on hand at the time
appointed.
Mr. Lord patted him on the head, gave him two large sticks of candy,
and, what was more kind and surprising, considering the fact that he
wore glasses and was cross eyed, he winked at Toby. A wink from Mr. Lord
must have been intended to convey a great deal, because, owing to the
defect in his eyes, it required no little exertion, and even then could
not be considered as a really first class wink.
That wink, distorted as it was, gladdened Toby's heart immensely and
took away nearly all the sting of the scolding with which Uncle Daniel
greeted him when he reached home.
That night--despite the fact that he was going to travel with the
circus, despite the fact that his home was not a happy or cheerful
one--Toby was not in a pleasant frame of mind. He began to feel for the
first time that he was doing wrong; and as he gazed at Uncle Daniel's
stern, forbidding looking face, it seemed to have changed somewhat from
its severity, and caused a great lump of something to come up in his
throat as he thought that perhaps he should never see it again. Just
then one or two kind words would have prevented him from running away,
bright as the prospect of circus life appeared.
It was almost impossible for him to eat anything, and this very
surprising state of affairs attracted the attention of Uncle Daniel.
“Bless my heart! what ails the boy?” asked the old man, as he peered
over his glasses at Toby's well filled plate, which was usually emptied
so quickly. “Are ye sick, Toby, or what is the matter with ye?”
“No, I hain't sick,” said Toby, with a sigh; “but I've been to the
circus, an' I got a good deal to eat.”
“Oho! You spent that cent I give ye, eh, an' got so much that it made ye
sick?”
Toby thought of the six peanuts which he had bought with the penny Uncle
Daniel had given him; and, amid all his homesickness, he could not help
wondering if Uncle Daniel ever made himself sick with only six peanuts
when he was a boy.
As no one paid any further attention to Toby, he pushed back his plate,
arose from the table, and went with a heavy heart to attend to his
regular evening chores. The cow, the hens, and even the pigs came in for
a share of his unusually kind attention; and as he fed them all the
big tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought that perhaps never
again would he see any of them. These dumb animals had all been Toby's
confidants; he had poured out his griefs in their ears, and fancied,
when the world or Uncle Daniel had used him unusually hard, that they
sympathized with him. Now he was leaving them forever, and as he locked
the stable door he could hear the sounds of music coming from the
direction of the circus grounds, and he was angry at it, because it
represented that which was taking him away from his home, even though it
was not as pleasant as it might have been.
Still, he had no thought of breaking the engagement which he had made.
He went to his room, made a bundle of his worldly possessions, and crept
out of the back door, down the road to the circus.
Mr. Lord saw him as soon as he arrived on the grounds, and as he passed
another ticket to Toby he took his bundle from him, saying, as he did
so: “I'll pack up your bundle with my things, and then you'll be sure
not to lose it. Don't you want some candy?”
Toby shook his head; he had just discovered that there was possibly some
connection between his heart and his stomach, for his grief at leaving
home had taken from him all desire for good things. It is also more than
possible that Mr. Lord had had experience enough with boys to know that
they might be homesick on the eve of starting to travel with a circus;
and in order to make sure that Toby would keep to his engagement he was
unusually kind.
That evening was the longest Toby ever knew. He wandered from one cage
of animals to another; then to see the performance in the ring, and back
again to the animals, in the vain hope of passing the time pleasantly.
But it was of no use; that lump in his throat would remain there, and
the thoughts of what he was about to do would trouble him severely.
The performance failed to interest him, and the animals did not attract
until he had visited the monkey cage for the third or fourth time. Then
he fancied that the same venerable monkey who had looked so knowing in
the afternoon was gazing at him with a sadness which could only have
come from a thorough knowledge of all the grief and doubt that was in
his heart.
There was no one around the cages, and Toby got just as near to the iron
bars as possible. No sooner had he flattened his little pug nose against
the iron than the aged monkey came down from the ring in which he had
been swinging, and, seating himself directly in front of Toby's face,
looked at him most compassionately.
It would not have surprised the boy just then if the animal had spoken;
but as he did not, Toby did the next best thing and spoke to him.
“I s'pose you remember that you saw me this afternoon, an' somebody told
you that I was goin' to join the circus, didn't they?”
The monkey made no reply, though Toby fancied that he winked an
affirmative answer; and he looked so sympathetic that he continued,
confidentially:
“Well, I'm the same feller, an' I don't mind telling you that I'm
awfully sorry that I promised that candy man I'd go with him. Do you
know that I came near crying at the supper table tonight; an' Uncle
Dan'l looked real good an' nice, though I never thought so before. I
wish I wasn't goin', after all, 'cause it don't seem a bit like a good
time now; but I s'pose I must, 'cause I promised to, an' 'cause the
candy man has got all my things.”
The big tears had begun to roll down Toby's cheeks, and as he ceased
speaking the monkey reached out one little paw, which Toby took as
earnestly as if it had been done purposely to console him.
“You're real good, you are,” continued Toby; “an' I hope I shall see you
real often, for it seems to me now, when there hain't any folks around,
as if you was the only friend I've got in this great big world. It's
awful when a feller feels the way I do, an' when he don't seem to want
anything to eat. Now if you'll stick to me I'll stick to you, an' then
it won't be half so bad when we feel this way.”
During this speech Toby had still clung to the little brown paw, which
the monkey now withdrew, and continued to gaze into the boy's face.
“The fellers all say I don't amount to anything,” sobbed Toby, “an'
Uncle Dan'l says I don't, an' I s'pose they know; but I tell you I feel
just as bad, now that I'm goin' away from them all, as if I was as good
as any of them.”
At this moment Toby saw Mr. Lord enter the tent, and he knew that the
summons to start was about to be given.
“Goodby,” he said to the monkey, as he vainly tried to take him by the
hand again. “Remember what I've told you, an' don't forget that Toby
Tyler is feelin' worse tonight than if he was twice as big an' twice as
good.”
Mr. Lord had come to summon him away, and he now told Toby that he would
show him with which man he was to ride that night.
Toby looked another goodby at the venerable monkey, who was watching him
closely, and then followed his employer out of the tent, among the ropes
and poles and general confusion attendant upon the removal of a circus
from one place to another.