"Mr. Sparling," called Teddy.
The showman turned, shooting a sharp glance at the flushed face of the Circus Boy.
"Well, what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, sir."
"Come to kick about feed in the cook tent?"
"Oh, no, no, sir! Nothing like that. I've come to ask a favor of you."
"Humph! I thought as much. Well, what is it?"
"I—I think I'd like to be a clown, sir."
"A clown?" asked the showman, with elevated eyebrows.
"Yes, sir."