“It makes me sick; always did.  Wish I hadn’t come,” sighed Billy, feeling, all too late, that lemonade and “lozengers” were not the fittest food for man, or a stifling tent the best place to be in on a hot July day, especially in a thunder-storm.

“I didn’t ask you to come; you asked me; so it isn’t my fault,” said Ben, rather gruffly, as people crowded by without pausing to hear the comic song the clown was singing in spite of the confusion.

“Oh, I’m so tired,” groaned Bab, getting up with a long stretch of arms and legs.

“You’ll be tireder before you get home, I guess.  Nobody asked you to come, anyway;” and Ben gazed dolefully round him wishing he could see a familiar face or find a wiser head than his own to help him out of the scrape he was in.

“I said I wouldn’t be a bother, and I wont.  I’ll walk right home this minute, I aint afraid of thunder, and the rain wont hurt these old clothes.  Come along,” cried Bab, bravely, bent on keeping her word, though it looked much harder after the fun was all over than before.

“My head aches like fury.  Don’t I wish old Jack was here to take me back,” said Billy, following his companions in misfortune with sudden energy, as a louder peal than before rolled overhead.

“You might as well wish for Lita and the covered wagon while you are about it, then we could all ride,” answered Ben, leading the way to the outer tent, where many people were lingering in hopes of fair weather.

“Why, Billy Barton, how in the world did you get here?” cried a surprised voice, as the crook of a cane caught the boy by the collar and jerked him face to face with a young farmer, who was pushing along followed by his wife and two or three children.

“Oh, Uncle Eben, I’m so glad you found me!  I walked over, and it’s raining, and I don’t feel well.  Let me go with you, can’t I?” asked Billy, casting himself and all his woes upon the strong arm that had laid hold of him.

“Don’t see what your mother was about to let you come so far alone, and you just over scarlet fever.  We are as full as ever we can be, but we’ll tuck you in somehow,” said the pleasant-faced woman, bundling up her baby, and bidding the two little lads “keep close to father.”

“I didn’t come alone.  Sam got a ride, and can’t you tuck Ben and Bab in too?  They aint very big, either of them,” whispered Billy, anxious to serve his friends now that he was provided for himself.

“Can’t do it, anyway.  Got to pick up mother at the corner, and that will be all I can carry.  It’s lifting a little; hurry along, Lizzie, and let us get out of this as quick as possible,” said Uncle Eben, impatiently; for going to a circus with a young family is not an easy task, as every one knows who has ever tried it.

“Ben, I’m real sorry there isn’t room for you.  I’ll tell Bab’s mother where she is, and may be some one will come for you,” said Billy, hurriedly, as he tore himself away, feeling rather mean to desert the others, though he could be of no use.