The cook emptied out a smoking pan into which he had placed a mass of batter a few minutes previous.
"Don't burn yourself—it's piping hot," he observed, tendering Andy a tempting raisin cake, enough for two meals.
"Oh, thank you," said Andy.
"Thank you, lad. Whenever you need a bite between meals, just drop in."
Andy came out of the tent passing the cake from hand to hand. He caught a newspaper sheet fluttering by, wadded it up, and surmounted it with the hot cake.
"That's better," he said. "My, it looks appetizing. Beg pardon," added
Andy, as rounding a tent he ran against a boy about his own age.
At a glance he saw that the stranger did not belong to the show. He was poorly dressed, but clean-faced and bright-eyed, although he limped like a person who had walked too far and too long for comfort.
"My fault," said the stranger. "I've done nothing but gape since I came here. Say, this circus is a regular city in itself, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Andy. "Stranger here?"
The boy nodded. He studied Andy's face quite anxiously.