“Hullo, that wasn’t on the bill!” cried Ben, as a parti-colored clown came in, followed by half a dozen dogs.

“I’m so glad; now Sancho will like it.  There’s a poodle that might be his ownty donty brother—­the one with the blue ribbon,” said Bab, beaming with delight as the dogs took their seats in the chairs arranged for them.

Sancho did like it only too well, for he scrambled out from under the seat in a great hurry to go and greet his friends, and, being sharply checked, set up and begged so piteously that Ben found it very hard to refuse and order him down.  He subsided for a moment, but when the black spaniel, who acted the canine clown, did something funny and was applauded, Sancho made a dart as if bent on leaping into the ring to outdo his rival, and Ben was forced to box his ears and put his feet on the poor beast, fearing he would be ordered out if he made any disturbance.

Too well trained to rebel again, Sancho lay meditating on his wrongs till the dog act was over, carefully abstaining from any further sign of interest in their tricks, and only giving a sidelong glance at the two little poodles who came out of a basket to run up and down stairs on their fore paws, dance jigs on their hind legs, and play various pretty pranks to the great delight of all the children in the audience.  If ever a dog expressed by look and attitude, “Pooh!  I could do much better than that, and astonish you all, if I was only allowed to,” that dog was Sancho, as he curled himself up and affected to turn his back on an unappreciative world.

“It’s too bad, when he knows more than all those chaps put together.  I’d give anything if I could show him off as I used to.  Folks always liked it, and I was ever so proud of him.  He’s mad now because I had to cuff him, and wont take any notice of me till I make up,” said Ben, regretfully eyeing his offended friend, but not daring to beg pardon yet.

More riding followed, and Bab was kept in a breathless state by the marvelous agility and skill of the gauzy lady who drove four horses at once, leaped through hoops, over banners and bars, sprang off and on at full speed, and seemed to enjoy it all so much it was impossible to believe that there could be any danger or exertion in it.

Then two girls flew about on the trapeze, and walked on a tight rope, causing Bab to feel that she had at last found her sphere, for, young as she was, her mother often said: 

“I really don’t know what this child is fit for, except mischief, like a monkey.”

“I’ll fix the clothes-line when I get home, and show Ma how nice it is.  Then, may be, she’ll let me wear red and gold trousers, and climb round like these girls,” thought the busy little brain, much excited by all it saw on that memorable day.