“Quiet, Kate!” said Mrs. Hallock. “Frank has been working in the sun so long without eating anything, that he has an attack of sick-headache, but he is getting better now.”
“Kate, won’t you fetch a fellow a crust of bread?” asked Frank, throwing the napkin from his forehead.
“Of course I will, Frank. Don’t you want a piece of toast?”
“No! Bring me what I want—a crust—the brownest one you can find.”
Away ran Kate to fulfil his wish, and presently, having returned with it and watched its disappearance from sight, she said: “Something awful happened at the circus this afternoon.”
“What? Did the tiger mew?”
Kate laughed.
“You ridiculous fellow,” she cried. “A boy fell from the pony he was riding, and I guess he was awfully hurt, too, for some men sprang in and carried him off, and—”
“What boy, pray?” asked Frank, taking his head from the pillow and leaning it on his hand.
“How do I know?” cried Kate; “but don’t you remember the little fellow who was clear behind everything this morning?”