“I must say this has been a wonderful motor car trip,” remarked Charlie.
“Just supposin’ them elephants had run inter somethin’?” Mr. Whiffin’s querulous tones rose above all other sounds. “Just supposin’ a farmer’s wagon had been in the way——”
“Or a picnic party,” broke in Tom, satirically.
No doubt Mr. Whiffin would have made a very interesting retort but for the fact that his eyes happened to rest on the form of a stocky, freckle-faced boy. This lad, attracted by the sound of his voice, had come forward and was taking in the scene with much apparent interest.
The audacity of such a proceeding seemed to appal Mr. Peter Whiffin.
“Loafin’ ag’in, eh?” he snarled. “Expect to be supported in idleness, I reckon! You ain’t done scarcely nothin’ since I hired that new barker.”
“Oh, I ain’t, eh?” Joe Rodgers’ eyes flashed angrily. “Oh, no; I ain’t done nothin’ but work me arms an’ legs most off!”
“Light out!” commanded the manager.
“When I gits ready I will,” answered Joe, defiantly. “Hey, fellers, I heard all that. So you’re the ones what Jumbo, I—I mean Dave told me about? An’, say, he’s the bulliest feller in the whole world. Anybody what could do what he done last night ought ter have a medal.”
“Permit me to introduce into your charmed circle the esteemed and particular crony of Mr. David Brandon—Joseph Rodgers, Esquire, water-carrier by special appointment to Oily Spudger’s Great Show,” snickered Victor.