“We’re treatin’ ’em better by goin’ away than by stayin’,” declared the other voice. “I tell you, Pop, we’ve got to go!”
Ruth opened her door. A lithe, boyish figure was aiding the limping clown along the passage toward the back stairway. But the face the strange figure turned to Ruth was that of Barnabetta Scruggs.
“Why! Why, Barnabetta!” gasped the Corner House girl in vast amazement.
Barnabetta was dumb. The weak mouth of the old circus clown trembled, and his eyes blinked, as he stood there on one foot, and stared, speechless, at their hostess.
“Why, Barnabetta!” cried Ruth again. “What ever is the matter?”
“We’re goin’,” said the circus girl, sullenly.
“Going where?”
“Well! we’re not goin’ to stay here,” said Barnabetta.
“Why, Barnabetta! Why not?”
“We’re not—that’s all,” ejaculated the trapeze artist.