"Yes, 'm, 'most all the ladies did; they were very good to me,
'specially 'Melia. She vowed she wouldn't go on in the Tunnymunt act if
they didn't stop knockin' me round when I wouldn't help old Buck with
the bears. So they had to stop it, 'cause she led first rate, and none
of the other ladies rode half as well as 'Melia."

"Bears! oh, do tell about them!" exclaimed Bab, in great excitement,
for at the only circus she had seen the animals were her delight.

"Buck had five of 'em, cross old fellers, and he showed 'em off. I
played with 'em once, jest for fun, and he thought it would make a hit
to have me show off instead of him. But they had a way of clawin' and
huggin' that wasn't nice, and you couldn't never tell whether they were
good-natured or ready to bite your head off. Buck was all over scars
where they'd scratched and bit him, and I wasn't going to do it; and I
didn't have to, owin' to Miss St. John's standin' by me like a good
one."

"Who was Miss St. John?" asked Mrs. Moss, rather confused by the sudden
introduction of new names and people.

"Why she was 'Melia, -- Mrs. Smithers, the ringmaster's wife. His name
wasn't Montgomery any more'n hers was St. John. They all change 'em to
something fine on the bills, you know. Father used to be Senor Jose
Montebello; and I was Master Adolphus Bloomsbury, after I stopped bein'
a flyin' Coopid and a infant Progidy."

Mrs. Moss leaned back in her chair to laugh at that, greatly to the
surprise of the little girls, who were much impressed with the elegance
of these high-sounding names.