"Don't be a fool!" exploded the showman, almost brutally.

Phil's countenance fell.

"Don't you understand, yet, that you already have been worth
several thousand dollars to me?"

"I--I--"

"Well, don't get a swelled head about it, for--"

"There is no danger of that, sir."

"And you don't have to potter around the cook tent working,
either. That is, not unless you want to."

"But, I do, Mr. Sparling. I want to learn everything there is to
be learned about the show business," protested Phil.

Mr. Sparling regarded him quizzically.

"You'll do," he said, turning away.

As soon as the dressing tent had been erected and the baggage was
moved in, Phil hurried to the entrance of the women's dressing
tent and calling for Mrs. Waite, told her what was wanted.

She measured his figure with her eyes, and nodded
understandingly.