When You Were a Boy

by Edwin L. Sabin

Tom Kemp and Nixie Kemp were organizing a circus of their own, but consented to be in yours if you’d be in theirs.

Over Billy Lunt occurred almost a fight, because a rival company set up the claim that he had promised them; but by bribe of a jews’-harp he was won to your side. Fat Day was asked chiefly on account of his pair of white rats, which would prove a valuable addition to the prospective menagerie.

“If you’ll lemme be clown, I’ll bring ’em,” consented Fat.

“But John he’s clown,” explained Hen.

This was true. Before advertising for talent, Hen had preempted ringmaster, and you, clown, as the choice positions, which was only the part of ordinary discretion.

“I tell you, Fat: you can be fat boy, and wiggle your ears and make folks laugh,” suggested Hen, eagerly.

“Uh-uh! If I can’t be clown, I won’t be nothin’,” declared Fat. “An’ you can’t have my white rats, either.”

Hen looked at you dubiously.

“All right. I don’t care. Let him,” you assented moodily, kicking up the dirt with your toe.