“Mrs. Williams!” laughed Connie. “Why, that’s my mother!”
“I wonder if the Brownies are coming?” speculated Veve. “It would be nice if they all get to see the circus tonight.”
“What else does the telegram say?” asked Connie.
“It merely instructs us to keep you until they arrive,” said the detective, handing her the telegram.
“At least Miss Gordon didn’t say a word about being angry with us,” said Veve as she reread the message over Connie’s shoulder. “But then, it probably would have cost more money to have wired that!”
After attending to a few errands at the railroad station, Mr. Gregg took the girls back to the circus lot.
“What shall we do now?” Veve asked rather listlessly.
Both girls were rather tired of looking at the wild animals. And nearly all of the circus performers seemed to be too busy to talk with them.
For a while they watched the men anchoring the big tent so that it would be secure should a hard wind blow up. By this time the girls knew that the mammoth canvas was familiarly known to the circus folk as “the old rag.”
In fact, they had noticed that circus people seemed to have a different name for almost everything. The stand where pop was sold was spoken of as “the juice joint,” and the hamburger sandwich stand, “the grease joint.”