The two camels went by awkwardly, and Bobbie told the other children an amazing anecdote concerning them, invented on the spur of the moment; the performing dogs passed with ridiculous frills round their necks and an appealing look in their eyes that begged people not to laugh at them; more horses, with more haughty ladies; at the end of all the crowd fell in and followed the procession to the large canvas tent away on a triangle of spare land. As the party from Hoxton continued their march along the road to their destination, they seemed altogether different from those children who had come down. Bobbie sang. When they were clear of the town, two long pieces of string were seen far away in the broad dusty road. Coming near, the first piece of string proved to be a long procession of scarlet Tam o’ Shanter capped girls; the second was found to be made up of bright round-faced expectant boys in serviceable suits, chosen in order to evade any appearance of a uniform.
“Stop,” said the Slogger once more, “and watch.”
“Where are they going?” asked Bobbie.
“Why, to the cirkiss,” answered the Slogger. “These are only the best of ’em, though. The others ’ave to stay behind.”
“They’d no business,” said the boy darkly, “to make no distinction.”
“Take off your cap to the ladies in charge.”
“Not me,” said Bobbie.
“Take it off, when I keep telling you,” ordered the Slogger anxiously. “You’ll only get me and yourself into a row.”
“Only this once, then,” said the boy.
The Tam o’ Shanter capped little women, as they marched by the new arrivals, seemed much amused at the odd appearance of certain of the new recruits.