spirit. He could never take a fiercer stand against odds than now if
he lived to be a hundred.

Anderson approached him, in spite of himself, with a certain respect.
"What is the matter, young man?" he inquired, gravely.

The boy regarded him with silent resentment and scorn; he did not
deign an answer. But the big boy replied for him promptly:

"He--he said his father kept a tame elephant when they lived in New
York State, and he--he used to ride him--"

He spoke in a tone of aggrieved virtue, and regarded the other with a
scowl. The men guffawed, and after a second the boys also. Then a
little fellow behind the ringleader offered additional testimony.

"He said he used to get up a private circus once a week, every
Saturday, and charge ten cents a head, and made ten dollars a week,"
he said. Then his voice of angry accusation ended in a chuckle.

Anderson kept his face quite grave, but all the others joined in the
chorus of merriment. The little fellow backed against the iron fence
gave an incredulous start at the sound of the laughter, then the red
roses faded out on his smooth cheeks and he went quite white. The
laughter stung his very soul as no recrimination could have done. He
suffered tortures of mortified pride. His fists were still clinched,
but his proud lip quivered a little. He looked very young--a baby.

Anderson stepped to his aid. He raised his voice. "Now, look here,
boys," he said. But he made no headway against the hilarity, which