Phil's heart leaped into his throat; at least that was the
sensation that he experienced.

"I--I hope he doesn't know me," muttered the lad, shrinking back
a little. "But I'm a man now. I don't care. He's driven me out
and he has no right to say a thing."

The lad lost some of his courage, however, when the procession
halted, and he found that his wagon was directly in front of Mr.
Adams' dooryard, with his decrepit uncle not more than twenty
feet away from him. The surly, angry eyes of Abner Adams seemed
to be burning through Phil's makeup, and the lad instinctively
shrank back ever so little.

However, at that instant the boy's attention was attracted to
another part of the wagon. The head clown stepped from the wagon
and, with dignified tread, approached Abner Adams. He grasped
the old man by the hand, which he shook with great warmth, making
a courtly bow.

At first Abner Adams was too surprised to protest. Then,
uttering an angry snarl, he threw the clown off, making a vicious
pass at him with his heavy stick.

The clown dodged the blow, and made a run for the wagon, which
was now on the move again.

Phil breathed a sigh of relief. The people had roared at the
funny sight of the clown shaking hands with the crabbed old man;