"But is it worth while to have all that hub-bub in our barn?" said Mother. I was burning with eagerness as I listened.
"It is probably not very easy for them to find a place for all their horses here in town," said Father, "and I shall make the condition that they behave themselves there."
"Well, as you like," said Mother.
Outside in the hall stood the same man I had seen in the morning, and another fellow of just the same sort, but smaller and rougher-looking. Father went out and talked with them; the one in the green cap mixed in a lot of German. "Danke schön—danke schön," they said as they went away.
Hurrah!—the circus-riders were to keep their horses in our barn, right here on our place—hurrah!—hurrah! what fun!
The horses were to come by land from the nearest town, nobody knew just when. I took my geography up on the barn steps that afternoon to study my lesson. I didn't want to miss seeing them come, you may be sure.
Little by little, a whole lot of children collected up there. Away out on the Point they had heard that the circus-riders were to have our barn. Some of the boys began to try to run things, and to push us girls away, but they learned better soon enough.
"No, sir," I gave one a thump—"be off with you; get away, and be quick about it, or you'll catch it."
Most of the boys in the town are afraid of me, I can tell you, because I have strong hands and a quick tongue, and behind me, like an invisible support, is always Father, and all the police, who are under him—so it's not often any one makes a fuss. Besides, I should like to know when you should have the say about things if not on your own barn steps.
More and more children gathered; they swarmed up the hill. I stood on the barn steps with a long whip. If any one came too near—swish!