The skeleton's parting was not quite so demonstrative. He clasped Toby's hand with one set of his fleshless fingers, while with the other he wiped one or two suspicious looking drops of moisture from his eyes as he said: “I hope you'll get along all right, my boy, and I believe you will. You will get home to Uncle Daniel and be happier than ever, for now you know what it is to be entirely without a home. Be a good boy, mind your uncle, go to school, and one of these days you'll make a good man. Goodby, my boy.”
The tears were now streaming down Toby's face very rapidly; he had not known, in his anxiety to get home, how very much he cared for this strangely assorted couple, and now it made him feel very miserable and wretched that he was going to leave them. He tried to say something more, but the tears choked his utterance and he left the tent quickly to prevent himself from breaking down entirely.
In order that his grief might not be noticed and the cause of it suspected, Toby went out behind the tent, and, sitting there on a stone, he gave way to the tears which he could no longer control.
While he was thus engaged, heeding nothing which passed around him, he was startled by a cheery voice which cried: “Halloo! down in the dumps again? What is the matter now, my bold equestrian?”
Looking up, he saw Ben standing before him, and he wiped his eyes hastily, for here was another from whom he must part and to whom a goodby must be spoken.
Looking around to make sure that no one was within hearing, he went up very close to the old driver and said, in almost a whisper: “I was feelin' bad 'cause I just come from Mr. and Mrs. Treat, an' I've been sayin' goodby to them. I'm goin' to run away tonight.”
Ben looked at him for a moment, as if he doubted whether the boy knew exactly what he was talking about, and then said, “So you still want to go home, do you?”
“Oh yes, Ben, so much,” was the reply, in a tone which expressed how dear to him was the thought of being in his old home once more.
“All right, my boy; I won't say one word ag'in' it, though it do seem too bad, after you've turned out to be such a good rider,” said the old man, thoughtfully. “It's better for you, I know; for a circus hain't no place for a boy, even if he wants to stay, an' I can't say but I'm glad you're still determined to go.”
Toby felt relieved at the tone of this leave taking. He had feared that Old Ben, who thought a circus rider was almost on the topmost round of fortune's ladder, would have urged him to stay, since he had made his debut in the ring, and he was almost afraid that he might take some steps to prevent his going.