“Want to get out, old man, and take in the side-shows?” asked David.
“What are side-shows?” Jimmy demanded guilelessly.
Mr. Hawley laughed heartily.
“A little bit of everythin’,” he answered. “The’s the agercult’ral exhibit—I seen some o’ your apples an’ a pile o’ them onions Peg Morrison’s be’n raisin’ in there. An’ there’s the woman’s tent, with the bigges’ lot o’ patchwork an’ jell’-cake an’ canned fruit y’ ever saw. I jus’ come f’om there. Y’ c’n hitch over yonder, if y’ wan’ to, Dave.”
David’s eyes had been roaming somewhat impatiently over the gay scene. He thrust his hand into his pocket.
“See here, boy,” he said to Jimmy, “you take this small change and go around to suit yourself. I don’t care anything about all that sort of thing. But you can take it in as long as you’ve a mind to.”
“What! All b’ my lone?” asked Jimmy, a frightened look in his brown eyes. “I guess I’d rather stay wiv you, David.”
“Nonsense!” said David sternly. “You’re not a baby, are you? Can’t you walk around and look at pigs and chickens and patchwork quilts without a guardian? You’ve got to quit being such a molly-coddle, my boy, and we’ll begin right now. Come! jump out, and I’ll look you up after a while. You couldn’t get lost, if you tried. Run along now and have a good time.”
“Her brother, ain’t it?” inquired Mr. Hawley, as David lifted the child to the ground.
“Get in, won’t you?” David said, ignoring the question. “We’ll look into that race proposition. I don’t know but what I’ll go in for it. I wouldn’t mind making a little money on the side.”