“Perhaps that would be best,” Hazel replied, smiling in spite of herself.
“Miss Hazel,” Flutters said, after a little pause, stopping and looking round him somewhat cautiously, as though he feared his question might be overheard, “did Starlight hear of any 'quiries for me, when he was in the city this afternoon?”
Hazel nodded “Yes” in a most mysterious manner.
“There's no danger of their 'quiring round here, do you think?” and Hazel saw the involuntary little tremble shoot through Flutters's frame.
“No, indeed, Flutters, and we wouldn't give you up if they did. Mrs. Van Wyck told Starlight that a forlorn old man, who belonged to the circus, stopped at her gate and asked if she'd seen anything of a little mulatto boy what had deserted from the troupe, or knowed anything about him, and Mrs. Van Wyck said, 'Lor', no!' never dreaming that her very own little Hans's clothes were on that same little boy that very moment.”
“That must have been good old Bobbin,” answered Flutters, fairly chuckling over the thought of the entire success of his escape.
“Miss Hazel,” he added, after a moment's thoughtful meditation, “I've been thinking how I might earn the money for my clothes by doing a little tumbling for folks round here, only I'm so awfully afraid of being heard of by the circus people.”
The suggestion instantly flashed a new scheme through Hazel's mind.
“Flutters,” she said, very slowly and seriously, “I've—thought—of something. Yes, it's the very thing. I'm going to town tomorrow, to see Colonel Hamilton about an important matter, and I'll make all the 'rangements.”
“'Rangements 'bout the clothes, Miss Hazel?”