"Well, it's true, little girl, isn't it?" cried Joe as they walked back to the circus together.
"Yes, and I'm very glad. I've always wanted money, but I never thought I'd have it—at least as much as I'm going to get. I wish you would inherit a fortune, Joe."
"Oh, don't worry about me. I don't expect it, and what one never has had can't be missed very much. Maybe I'll get mine—some day."
"I hope so, Joe. And now I want you to promise me something."'
"What?"
"That if ever you need money you'll come to me."
Joe hesitated a moment before answering. Then he said:
"All right, Helen, I will."
To Joe the novelty of life in a circus was beginning to wear off. To be sure there was something new and different coming up each day, but he had now gotten his act down to a system, and to him and the other performers one day was much like another, except for the weather, perhaps.
They did their acts before crowds every day—different crowds, to be sure; but, after all, men, women and children are much alike the world over. They want to be amused and thrilled, and the circus crowds in one place are no different from those in another.