“His loss if he ain’t there with the goods,” commented Peter, shortly. “Listen, young feller; here’s what I want ye to git over to the audience, an’ git it over strong, mind ye.”
Talking rapidly, he checked off on his fingers point after point, while Mr. Spudger nodded his head in unison with the motions.
“I understand,” said Dave. His eyes traveled mechanically in the direction of the stand. “Shall I begin now?”
“No! Come this way.”
The historian followed the circus men inside the menagerie tent, where he discovered that a space between two cages had been inclosed by a long strip of canvas.
Whiffin drew aside the flap and bade him enter.
Dave’s eyes immediately took in a pile of garments resting on a stool.
Peter Whiffin selected a very red coat, plentifully supplied with spangles, and, as he held it at arm’s length, the slightest movement sent them shaking and glittering in the dull gray light which came from above.
“A fine piece of goods,” said Mr. Whiffin, admiringly. “Slide inside, young feller.”
“What!” gasped Dave.