woman kissed him again and again, and then turned her
back resolutely upon him, lest it should be bad luck to him if she again
saw him after saying goodby.

The skeleton's parting was not quite so demonstrative. He clasped Toby's
hand with one set of his fleshless fingers, while with the other he
wiped one or two suspicious looking drops of moisture from his eyes as
he said: "I hope you'll get along all right, my boy, and I believe you
will. You will get home to Uncle Daniel and be happier than ever, for
now you know what it is to be entirely without a home. Be a good boy,
mind your uncle, go to school, and one of these days you'll make a good
man. Goodby, my boy."

The tears were now streaming down Toby's face very rapidly; he had
not known, in his anxiety to get home, how very much he cared for this
strangely assorted couple, and now it made him feel very miserable and
wretched that he was going to leave them. He tried to say something
more, but the tears choked his utterance and he left the tent quickly to
prevent himself from breaking down entirely.

In order that his grief might not be noticed and the cause of it
suspected, Toby went out behind the tent, and, sitting there on a stone,
he gave way to the tears which he could no longer control.

While he was thus engaged, heeding nothing which passed around him, he
was startled by a cheery voice which cried: "Halloo! down in the dumps
again? What is the matter now, my bold equestrian?"

Looking up, he saw Ben standing before him, and he wiped his eyes
hastily, for here was another from whom he must part and to whom a
goodby must be spoken.

Looking around to make sure that no one was within hearing, he went
up very close to the old driver and said, in almost a whisper: "I was
feelin' bad 'cause I just come from Mr. and Mrs. Treat, an' I've been
sayin' goodby to them. I'm goin' to run away tonight."

Ben looked at him for a moment, as if he doubted whether the boy knew
exactly what he was talking about, and then said, "So you still want to
go home, do you?"

"Oh yes, Ben, so much," was the reply, in a tone which expressed how
dear to him was the thought of being in his old home once more.

"All right, my boy; I won't say one word ag'in' it, though it do seem
too bad, after you've turned out to be such a good rider," said the old
man, thoughtfully. "It's better for you, I know; for a circus hain't no
place for a boy, even if he wants to stay, an' I can't say