The agent pulled a long face.
“I know,” he replied, “but I don’t think paw’d like this.”
The showman handed him a ticket for the circus—one ticket.
“Well, I don’t know about this,” said the station agent heavily. “If you didn’t ask paw, I don’t know whether you’d better do this or not.”
The billposter handed him another ticket.
“Won’t that fix it?” he asked.
“Well,” replied the agent, seemingly somewhat mollified, “paw’s awful particular, but I guess I can fix it. I’ll try anyhow”—and he walked solemnly back to the station.
Old Peters didn’t chance to see the bills until a day or two before the circus. He was very angry, but at this time there were no circus men around to complain to. When the show came to town he looked up the box-office and found he had been done. Then he hurried to the agent.
“Where’s them tickets?” he demanded.
“What tickets?” replied the agent.