"What's up now?" asked Mr. Dewey, coming out from behind his desk, and eyeing the panting boy curiously. "Won't the tickets pass?"
"Not if they wait till I pass 'em," answered Tip in his prompt, saucy way. "I ain't going to the circus, not an inch," he added, as if to assure himself that he meant it.
"But why not?"
"Oh, I've got reasons."
"Well, now, Tip," said Mr. Dewey, "that's really astonishing! Suppose you give us a few of your reasons. We don't know what to make of this."
Tip didn't know what to say; he hesitated and thought, and finally did the best thing he could,—spoke out boldly. "I've made up my mind that I won't go to any more circuses, ever! I don't believe in 'em as much as I did."
That wasn't it yet,—he had not owned his Master in the answer. Neither was Mr. Dewey satisfied.
"But, Tip, give us the reasons; this is such a sudden change, you know."
"Well," said Tip, "I've been reading about them just now."
"About whom?"