But they had a way of clawin' and
huggin' that wasn't nice, and you couldn't never tell whether they were
good-natured or ready to bite your head off. Buck was all over scars
where they'd scratched and bit him, and I wasn't going to do it; and I
didn't have to, owin' to Miss St. John's standin' by me like a good
one."
"Who was Miss St. John?" asked Mrs. Moss, rather confused by the sudden
introduction of new names and people.
"Why she was 'Melia, -- Mrs. Smithers, the ringmaster's wife. His name
wasn't Montgomery any more'n hers was St. John. They all change 'em to
something fine on the bills, you know. Father used to be Senor Jose
Montebello; and I was Master Adolphus Bloomsbury, after I stopped bein'
a flyin' Coopid and a infant Progidy."
Mrs. Moss leaned back in her chair to laugh at that, greatly to the
surprise of the little girls, who were much impressed with the elegance
of these high-sounding names.
"Go on with your story, Ben, and tell why you ran away and what became
of your Pa," she said, composing herself to listen, really interested in
the child.
"Well, you see, father had a quarrel with old Smithers, and went off
sudden last fall, just before tenting season' was over. He told me he
was goin' to a great ridin' school in New York and when he was fixed
he'd send for me.
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