“If you are going to the show you had better be getting ready,” urged Phil, wishing to change the subject.
“All right, I will. I’ll fix your clothes when I get back. Will you be home to supper?”
“I don’t know for sure. If I can I’ll be back in time, but please don’t wait for me. Here is your ticket.”
The lad hurried to the room the good woman had set aside for him and quickly made the change of clothing. He was obliged to change everything he had on, for even his shirt had been torn in his battle with the broncho. After bathing and putting on the fresh clothes, Phil hurried from the house, that he might miss nothing of the show.
The sideshow band was blaring brazenly when he reached the lot. The space in front of the main entrance was packed with people, many of whom pointed to him, nodding their heads and directing the attention of their companions to the lad.
Phil wished he might be able to skulk in by the back door and thus avoid their attention, but as this was impossible, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and worked his way slowly toward the front of the crowd.
Getting near the entrance, he saw Mr. Sparling’s assistant. The latter, chancing to catch sight of Phil, motioned him to crawl under the ropes and come in. The boy did so gratefully.
“The doors are not open yet, but you may go in. You will have time to look over the animals before the crowd arrives, then you can reach your seat before the others get in. Please let me see those checks once more.”
The assistant made a mental note of the section and number of the seats for future reference and handed back the coupons.
Phil stole into the menagerie tent, relieved to be away from the gaze and comments of the crowd that was massed in front.