"Not at all. It's too rough. Give me the circus every time,
with its life, its color, it's--oh, pshaw! What's the use
talking about it? Is there anything in the world more attractive
than those tents over there, with the flags of every nation
flying from center and quarter poles? Is there, Teddy?"

"Well, no; I guess that's right."

For a moment the lads were silent. They were sitting beneath a
spreading maple tree off, on the circus lot, a few rods from
where the tents were being erected. A gentle breeze was stirring
the flags, billowing the white canvas of the tents in slow,
undulating waves.

"And to think that we belong to that! Do you know, sometimes I
think it is all a dream, and I'm afraid I shall suddenly wake up
to find myself back in Edmeston with Uncle Abner Adams driving me
out of the house with a stick."

Phil's face grew solemn as those unhappy days under his uncle's
roof came back to him in a flood of disquieting memories.

"Don't wake up, then," replied Teddy.

"I think perhaps we had better both wake up if we expect to get
any breakfast. The red flag is flying on the cook tent, which
means that breakfast is ready--in fact, breakfast must be pretty
well over by this time. First thing we know the blue flag will
suddenly appear in its place, and you and I will have to hustle
downtown for something to eat. It will be parade time pretty