d had been understood by the animals, went out of the door to
meet his other taskmaster.

CHAPTER VI.

A TENDER-HEARTED SKELETON.

"Now, then, lazy-bones," was Mr. Lord's warning cry as Toby came out of
the tent, "if you've fooled away enough of your time, you can come here
an' tend shop for me while I go to supper. You crammed yourself this
noon, an' it'll teach you a good lesson to make you go without anything
to eat to-night; it'll make you move round more lively in future."

Instead of becoming accustomed to such treatment as he was receiving
from his employers, Toby's heart grew more tender with each brutal word,
and this last punishment--that of losing his supper--caused the poor boy
more sorrow than blows would. Mr. Lord started for the hotel as he
concluded his cruel speech; and poor little Toby, going behind the
counter, leaned his head upon the rough boards and cried as if his heart
would break.

All the fancied brightness and pleasure of a circus life had vanished,
and in its place was the bitterness of remorse that he had repaid Uncle
Daniel's kindness by the ingratitude of running away. Toby thought that
if he could only nestle his little red head on the pillows of his little
bed in that rough room at Uncle Daniel's, he would be the happiest and
best boy, in the future, in all the great wide world.

While he was still sobbing away at a most furious rate he heard a voice
close at his elbow, and, looking up, saw the thinnest man he had ever
seen in all his life. The man had flesh-colored tights on, and a
spangled red velvet garment--that was neither pants, because there were
no legs to it, nor a coat, because it did not come above his waist--made
up the remainder of his costume. Because he was so wonderfully thin,
because of the costume which he wore, and because of a highly colored
painting which was hanging in front of one of the small tents, Toby knew
that the Living Skeleton was before him, and his big brown eyes opened
all the wider as he gazed at him.

"What is the matter, little fellow?" asked the man, in a kindly tone.
"What makes you cry so? Has Job been up to his old tricks again?"

"I don't know what his old tricks are"--and Toby sobbed, the tears
coming again because of the sympathy which this man's voice expressed
for him--"but I know that he's a mean, ugly thing--that's what I know;
an' if I could only get back to Uncle Dan'l, there hain't elephants
enough in all the circuses in