"When you're mixin' lemonade for circus trade," said Mr. Lord, in such a benign, fatherly tone, that one would have found it difficult to believe that he ever spoke harshly, "don't be afraid of water, for there's where the profit comes in. Always have a piece of lemon-peel floatin' on the top of every glass, an' it tastes just as good to people as if it cost twice as much."
Toby could not agree exactly with that opinion, neither did he think it wise to disagree, more especially since he was going to ask the very great favor of being discharged; therefore he nodded his head gravely, and began to stir up what it pleased Mr. Lord to call lemonade, so that the last addition might be more thoroughly mixed with the others.
Two or three times he attempted to ask the favor which seemed such a great one, and each time the words stuck in his throat, until it seemed to him that he should never succeed in getting them out.
Finally, in his despair, he stammered out:
"Don't you think you could find another boy in this town, Mr. Lord?"
Mr. Lord moved around sideways, in order to bring his crooked eye to bear squarely on Toby, and then there was a long interval of silence, during which time the boy's color rapidly came and went, and his heart beat very fast with suspense and fear.
"Well, what if I could?" he said at length. "Do you think that trade is so good I could afford to keep two boys, when there isn't half work enough for one?"
Toby stirred the lemonade with renewed activity, as if by this process he was making both it and his courage stronger, and said, in a low voice, which Mr. Lord could scarcely hear:
"I didn't think that; but you see I ought to go home, for Uncle Dan'l will worry about me, an', besides, I don't like a circus very well."
Again there was silence on Mr. Lord's part, and again the crooked eye glowered down on Toby.