“Out with you!”
Laughing, his face flushed with pride and satisfaction, Phil did move. Not even pausing to note what direction he should go, he hurried on toward the village, perhaps more by instinct than otherwise. He was too full of this wonderful thing that had come to him—success—to take note of his surroundings.
To Phil there was no rain. Though he already was drenched to the skin he did not know it.
All at once he pulled himself up sharply.
“Phil Forrest, you are getting excited,” he chided. “Now, don’t you try to make yourself believe you are the whole show, for you are only a little corner of it. You are not even a side show. You are a lucky boy, but you are going to keep your head level and try to earn your money. Twenty dollars a week! Why, it’s wealth! I can see Uncle Abner shaking his stick when he hears of it. I must write to Mrs. Cahill and tell her the good news. She’ll be glad, though I’ll warrant the boys at home will be jealous when they hear about how I am getting on in the world.”
Thus talking to himself, Phil plodded on in the storm until he reached the business part of the town. There he found a store and soon had provided himself with a serviceable rubber coat, a pair of rubber boots and a soft hat. He put on his purchases, doing up his shoes and carrying them back under his arm.
The parade started at noon. It was a dismal affair—that is, so far as the performers were concerned, and the clowns looked much more funny than they felt.
Mr. Miaco enlivened the spirits of those on the hayrack by climbing to the back of one of the horses drawing the clowns’ wagon, where he sat with a doll’s parasol over his head and a doll in his arms singing a lullaby.
The people who were massed along the sidewalks of the main street did not appear to mind the rain at all. They were too much interested in the free show being given for their benefit.
The show people ate dinner with their feet in the mud that day, the cook tent having been pitched on a barren strip of ground.