the world to pull me away again."

"Oh, you run away from home, did you?"

"Yes, I did," sobbed Toby, "an' there hain't any boy in any
Sunday-school book that ever I read that was half so sorry he'd been bad
as I am. It's awful; an' now I can't have any supper, 'cause I stopped
to talk with Mr. Stubbs."

"Is Mr. Stubbs one of your friends?" asked the skeleton as he seated
himself in Mr. Lord's own private chair.

"Yes, he is, an' he's the only one in this whole circus who 'pears to be
sorry for me. You'd better not let Mr. Lord see you sittin' in that
chair, or he'll raise a row."

"Job won't raise any row with me," said the skeleton. "But who is this
Mr. Stubbs? I don't seem to know anybody by that name."

"I don't think that is his name. I only call him so, 'cause he looks so
much like a feller I know who is named Stubbs."

This satisfied the skeleton that this Mr. Stubbs must be some one
attached to the show, and he asked,

"Has Job been whipping you?"

"No; Ben, the driver on the wagon where I ride, told him not to do that
again; but he hain't going to let me have any supper, 'cause I was so
slow about my work--though I wasn't slow; I only talked to Mr. Stubbs
when there wasn't anybody round his cage."

"Sam! Sam! Sam-u-el!"

This name, which was shouted twice in a quick, loud voice, and the third
time in a slow manner, ending almost in a screech, did not come from
either Toby or the skeleton, but from an enormously large woman, dressed
in a gaudy red-and-black dress, cut very short, and with low neck and an
apology for sleeves, who had just come out from the tent whereon the
picture of the Living Skeleton hung.

"Samuel," she screamed again, "come inside this minute, or you'll catch
your death o' cold, an' I shall have you wheezin' around with the
phthisic all night. Come in, Sam-u-el."

"That's her," said the skeleton to Toby, as he pointed his thumb in the
direction of the fat woman, but paying no attention to the outcry she
was making--"that's my wife Lilly, an' she's the Fat Woman of the show.
She's always yellin' after me that way the minute I get out for a little
fresh air, an' she's always sayin' just the same thing. Bless you, I
never have the phthisic, but she does awful; an' I s'pose 'cause she's
so large she can't feel all over her, an' thinks it's me that has it."

"Is--is all that--is that your wife?" stammered Toby, in astonishment,
as he looked at the enormously fat woman who stood