"I haven't any," Marmaduke explained. "I've lost the Toyman—and he's got my ticket an'—an'—I can't go in."
"Don't you worry about that. You'll have the best seat in the whole circus." And Tody turned another somersault just to make him laugh. Then he looked down at little Wienerwurst.
"But they won't let any doggies in there. We'll just tie him to this pole."
Marmaduke shook his head and tried hard to keep the tears back. Just one little one rolled down his right cheek But that was on the other side of Tody. Maybe Tody saw it anyway, for when Marmaduke said to him,—"Then I can't go in either, my little pet doggie would feel so badly," the jolly Clown answered:
"Well, we'll just have to fix it up some way. Can y' keep him quiet?"
"Quiet as a mouse," answered Marmaduke, "quiet as Mother Robin when she sits on her nest."
And Wienerwurst barked out loud just to show how quiet he could be.
Tody spoke to another man. This one had on a bright red vest, red as Father Robin's. He looked at the boy and the dog. His voice wasn't as pleasant as Tody's nor the giant's, but what he said was all right.
It was just "Sure!" and Marmaduke and Wienerwurst slipped inside the big tent, right near the front, where they could see all the wonderful things that went on.
Wienerwurst sat pretty quiet on his lap and together they watched the elephants stand on their heads, and the men way up in the air turn somersaults on little swings, and the ladies in bright spangles gallop round and round the ring, and the monkeys and the clowns do tricks—and everything.