“I want you to take Sanch home, and tell your mother I’m going to walk, and may be wont be back till sundown.  Miss Celia said I might do what I pleased, all day.  You remember, now.”

Ben spoke without looking up, and affected to be very busy buckling a strap into Sanch’s collar, for the two were so seldom parted that the dog always rebelled.  It was a mistake on Ben’s part, for while his eyes were on his work, Bab’s were devouring the bill, which Sam still held, and her suspicions were aroused by the boys’ faces.

“Where are you going?  Ma will want to know,” she said, as curious as a magpie all at once.

“Never you mind; girls can’t know everything.  You just catch hold of this and run along home.  Lock Sanch up for an hour, and tell your mother I’m all right,” answered Ben, bound to assert his manly supremacy before his mates.

“He’s going to the circus,” whispered Fay, hoping to make mischief.

“Circus!  Oh, Ben, do take me!” cried Bab, falling into a state of great excitement at the mere thought of such delight.

“You couldn’t walk four miles,” began Ben.

“Yes, I could, as easy as not.”

“You haven’t got any money.”

“You have; I saw you showing your dollar, and you could pay for me, and Ma would pay it back.”

“Can’t wait for you to get ready.”

“I’ll go as I am.  I don’t care if it is my old hat,” and Bab jerked it on to her head.

“Your mother wouldn’t like it.”

“She wont like your going, either.”

“She isn’t my missis now.  Miss Celia wouldn’t care, and I’m going, anyway.”

“Do, do take me, Ben!  I’ll be just as good as ever was, and I’ll take care of Sanch all the way,” pleaded Bab, clasping her hands and looking round for some sign of relenting in the faces of the boys.

“Don’t you bother; we don’t want any girls tagging after us,” said Sam, walking off to escape the annoyance.

“I’ll bring you a roll of chickerberry lozengers, if you wont tease,” whispered kind-hearted Billy, with a consoling pat on the crown of the shabby straw hat.

“When the circus comes here you shall go, certain sure, and Betty too,” said Ben, feeling mean while he proposed what he knew was a hollow mockery.

“They never do come to such little towns; you said so, and I think you are very cross, and I wont take care of Sanch, so, now!” cried Bab getting into a passion, yet ready to cry, she was so disappointed.

“I suppose it wouldn’t do—­” hinted Billy, with a look from Ben to the little girl, who stood winking hard to keep the tears back.

“Of course it wouldn’t.  I’d like to see her walking eight miles.  I don’t mind paying for her; it’s getting her there and back.  Girls are such a bother when you want to knock round.  No, Bab, you can’t go.  Travel right home and don’t make a fuss.  Come along, boys; it’s most eleven, and we don’t want to walk fast.”