as cheerful as they might be, that's a fact," says
Leonidas.

It didn't take him long to put life into 'em, though. When he'd give
off a few brisk orders they chirked up amazin'. They shed their rain
coats for spangled jackets, hung out a lot of banners, and uncased a
lot of pawnshop trombones and bass horns and such things. "All up for
the grand street parade!" sings out Leonidas.

For an off-hand attempt, it wa'n't so slow. First comes Pinckney,
ridin' a long-legged huntin' horse and keepin' the rain off his red
coat with an umbrella. Then me and Sadie in her bubble, towin' the
busted one-lunger behind. Leonidas was standin' up on the seat,
wearin' his silk hat and handlin' a megaphone. Next came the band
waggon, everybody armed with some kind of musical weapon, and tearin'
the soul out of "The Merry Widow" waltz, in his own particular way.
The pole waggon brings up the rear.

Pinckney must have spread the news well, for the whole crowd was out on
the front veranda to see us go past. And say, when Leonidas sizes up
the kind of folks that was givin' him the glad hand, he drops the
imitation society talk that he likes to spout, and switches to straight
Manhattanese.

"Well, well, well! Here we are!" he yells through the megaphone. "The
only original Sagawa show on the road, remember! Come early, gents,
and bring your lady friends. The doors of the big tent will open at
eight o'clock--eight o'clock--and at eight-fifteen Mlle. Peroxide, the
near queen of comedy, will cut loose on the coon songs."

"My word!" says the duchess, as she squints through her glasses at the
aggregation.

But the rest of the guests was just ripe for something of the kind.
Mrs. Curlew Brassett, who'd almost worried herself sick at seein' her
party put on the blink by a shop-worn exhibit on the inside and rain on
the out, told Pinckney he could have the medicine tent pitched in the
middle of her Italian garden, if he wanted to. They didn't, though.
They stuck up the round top on the lawn just in front of the stables,
and they hadn't much more'n lit the gasolene flares before the folks
begins to stroll out and hit up the ticket waggon.

"It's the first time I ever had the nerve to charge two dollars a throw
for perches on the blue boards," says Leonidas; "but that friend of
yours, Mr. Pinckney, wanted me to make it five."

Anyway, it was almost worth the money. Mlle. Peroxide, who did the
high and lofty with a job lot of last