nd it out, he wanted to start right home in
the rain, and she told him he could go if he wanted to, but she was
goin' to stay there till the rain was over. And while they was arguin'
the matter, Sam Amos come along, and Parson Page begun explainin' how he
got in by accident and wanted to git out. Sam said nobody but a frog or
a fish or a Presbyterian minister would object to stayin' under a circus
tent in such a rain as that, and he might as well make himself
comfortable. So he found a seat for Mis' Page and the parson, and he
used to say he got more fun out o' Parson Page than he did out o' the
circus, and he couldn't hardly see what was goin' on in the ring for
watchin' the parson's face. He had his gold-headed cane between his
knees and his hands on top o' the cane and his head bowed over his hands
like he was engaged in prayer, and he set there as solemn as if he was
at a funeral, while everybody around was laughin' and hollerin' at the
clown's jokes.

"But Mis' Page she took things fair and easy. She said she knew the
Presbytery couldn't do anything with her, and she made up her mind, as
she was in there and couldn't git out, she'd see all there was to be
seen. The next meetin' o' the Mite Society she told us all about it,
and she said if the gyirls' skyirts had jest been a little longer, there
wouldn't 'a' been a thing amiss with that circus. But she said what they
lacked in length they made up in width, and the jumpin' and ridin' was
so amazin' that you forgot all about the skyirts bein' short.

"Parson Page said that circus seemed as long to him as a Sunday service
used to seem when he was a boy. His conscience hurt him so, and he kept
thinkin' what on earth he would say, if the Presbytery heard about it,
and he felt like everybody in the tent was lookin' at him, and he never
was as glad in his life as he was when Sam told him the show was over
and he got up to leave.

"Mis' Page said they was edgin' their way out through the crowd, and all
at once Parson Page stopped and threw up his hands like he always did
when somethin' struck him all at once, and says he: 'Bless my soul! I've
been to this circus and didn't pay my way in.' Says he: 'That makes a
bad matter worse, and I can't leave this tent till I've paid for myself
and my wife.' And Sam Amos he laughed fit to kill, and says he: 'It
looks to me like you'll be makin' a bad matter worse if you do pay,
for,' says he, 'as long as you don't pay for seein' the s