"An elephant's trunk is called his bosphorus," said Minnie, anxious to grace the occasion by a little learning.
And she added: "My teacher told me so."
"I just threw the corn at 'em," continued Susy, "an' they picked it up out of the hay. One of 'em held up his trunk, an' his mouth was right under it, an' a man threw peanuts into his mouth, an' the ellerphant stood that way an' let the man throw peanuts at him ever so long, an' we had to go away then, 'cos the show was goin' to begin."
"You have to be careful of elephants," said Minnie. "Last year there was an elephant in the circus, an' he had whiskers on his trunk, an' Billy Mason pulled 'em, an' the elephant didn't say anything, an' didn't do anything for two or three minutes, an' then just as Billy was starting to go he swung his trunk round an' if Billy hadn't dodged quick the elephant would have killed him. An' there was a man there an' he said that if that elephant ever sees Billy again, even if it's a hundred years from now, he'll remember him, an' he'll try to hit him again with his trunk."
Cheerful Susy instantly remarked: "Billy's goin' to the circus to-night. Do you s'pose that ellerphant will be there?"
Billy's sister tried to take a hopeful view.
"Oh, this is another circus,—'tisn't the same one that was here last summer."
But nothing could discourage Susy.
"Perhaps they've swapped ellerphants," she suggested.
Harry Fletcher rose from the steps at this moment, and observed in a shaky voice, that he guessed he would go home. He walked up the garden path with rather feeble steps. We watched him,—awestruck.