pieces of board; the whole craft looked as if it might be wrecked with
the least jar. In the wagon were four or five stupid-looking boys and
girls, one of whom was crying softly. Their father was sick, some one
told us. "He was took faint, but he is coming to all right; they have
give him something to take: their name is Craper, and they live way over
beyond the Ridge, on Stone Hill. They were goin' over to Denby to the
circus, and the man was calc'lating to get doctored, but I d' know's he
can get so fur; he's powerful slim-looking to me." Kate and I went to
see if we could be of any use, and when we went into the store we saw
the man leaning back in his chair, looking ghastly pale, and as if he
were far gone in consumption. Kate spoke to him, and he said he was
better; he had felt bad all the way along, but he hadn't given up. He
was pitiful, poor fellow, with his evident attempt at dressing up. He
had the bushiest, dustiest red hair and whiskers, which made the pallor
of his face still more striking, and his illness had thinned and paled
his rough, clumsy hands. I thought what a hard piece of work it must
have been for him to start for the circus that morning, and how
kind-hearted he must be to have made such an effort for his children's
pleasure. As we went out they stared at us gloomily. The shadow of their
disappointment touched and chilled our pleasure.

Somebody had turned the horse so that he was heading toward home, and by
his actions he showed that he was the only one of the party who was
glad. We were so sorry for the children; perhaps it had promised to be
the happiest day of their lives, and now they must go back to their
uninteresting home without having seen the great show.

"I am so sorry you are disappointed," said Kate, as we were wondering
how the man who had followed us could ever climb into the wagon.