“That will fetch her,” thought Billy.
“What do you want now, Billy Whiskers? You can’t fool me by your soft talk. You are up to some mischief. What is it?”
Billy, without replying, beat a hasty retreat, thankful that he had not asked Polly Parrot outright about circuses.
“She is a suspicious old maid,” he said to himself, “and I can’t afford to fool with her.”
Billy then went to the stable to interview old Gyp, the horse that was said to have been in the Treat family for nearly thirty years.
“Billy Whiskers,” she said, hearing his question, “I wish I could tell you about circuses, but I can’t. My memory is no longer good. It seems to me that more than twenty years ago I heard a lot about a circus being in Springfield and a man by the name of Barnum who was connected with it, but I am not sure and it makes my head ache to try and recall the circumstances. I’m sorry I can’t help you, and I am afraid that you will not come to call on me soon again because I am so old and forgetful.”
“There, there, old Gyp, don’t worry any more about it. I am sorry I asked you the question. I know you would gladly tell me if you could and that’s kind of you, I am sure. Of course I am coming to see you every day. I make few calls that I enjoy so much.”
With this kind speech Billy left the old horse feeling sure that she had a good friend in him. It was by such little kindnesses as these that Billy made himself popular.
Billy felt pretty sure that the big Newfoundland dog, Bob, could tell him. Of late they had grown to be the greatest friends, though it had seemed for a number of months as if they must always remain enemies. Billy thought that Bob was jealous of him, and Bob thought Billy was conceited and vain. But after they had together saved little Dick Treat from drowning in the swimming hole down by the wood lot, they had the utmost respect for each other and were ever after the very best of friends.