eyeing the panting boy curiously. "Won't the tickets pass?"

"Not if they wait till I pass 'em," answered Tip in his prompt, saucy
way. "I ain't going to the circus, not an _inch_," he added, as if to
assure himself that he meant it.

"But why not?"

"Oh, I've got reasons."

"Well, now, Tip," said Mr. Dewey, "that's really astonishing! Suppose you
give us a few of your reasons. We don't know what to make of this."

Tip didn't know what to say; he hesitated and thought, and finally did
the best thing he _could_,--spoke out boldly. "I've made up my mind that
I won't go to any more circuses, _ever_! I don't believe in 'em as much
as I did."

That wasn't it yet,--he had not owned his Master in the answer. Neither
was Mr. Dewey satisfied.

"But, Tip, give us the _reasons_; this is such a sudden change,
you know."

"Well," said Tip, "I've been reading about them just now."

"About whom?"

"Why, them circus fellows. They're up here at the tavern; they're
drinking and fighting, and I don't know what; and I guess, by the looks