“Thank you, little man, but I can’t eat peanuts. I used to like them when I was a lad, but my teeth aren’t so good now. Save them for the elephant.”
“That’s what I was doin’,” Trouble replied, as he took the bag in his chubby fingers. “I did give the nellifunt some and——”
By this time the old gentleman had seen who Trouble was, and he also knew Mr. Martin, who was looking at him and smiling.
“Why, why!” exclaimed the old gentleman. “You’re the same little boy who nearly got stepped on by the elephant in the parade this morning, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Trouble. “I guess I am.”
“Indeed he is!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. “And I’ve been anxious to meet you and thank you for what you did. My husband tried to find out your name and where you lived, but——”
“The crowd was too much for us,” interrupted the old gentleman, with a laugh. “I looked for the little boy afterward, to see if he was all right, but I couldn’t find him, and I was anxious to get my wife out of the crowd.”
“I’m glad to meet you again,” said Trouble’s father. “My name is Martin. I’m in business here in town, and I wish you would come and see me. Bring your wife and call some evening.”
“Yes, please do,” urged Mrs. Martin.
The Curlytops listened to this talk, and they were glad none of the acts had begun, for they wanted to hear what was said, but if the performers had been in the ring they would have wanted to look at them.