"You get out of here!" snapped the ringmaster. "What are you
doing here, anyway?"
"I'm working."
"Yes, I see you working. Go on about your business and don't
bother me. Don't you think I have anything else to do except to
watch you, in order to prevent your breaking up the performance?"
"You ought to thank me for keeping you busy," chuckled Teddy,
making a lively jump to get out of the way of the long lash that
snapped at his heels.
Perhaps there was method in Teddy Tucker's movements.
He strolled out into the concourse, gazing up at the crowded
seats, winking and making wry faces at the people, as he moved
slowly along, causing them to laugh and shout flippant remarks
at him.
This was exactly what he wanted them to do. It gave Teddy an
opportunity to talk back, and many a keen-pointed shaft did he
hurl at the unwary who had been imprudent enough to try to make
sport of him.
While this impromptu act was going on the minds of the people
were so occupied that they forgot all about the storm.
The rain was now beating down on the big top in a deluge, and
despite the ringmaster's assurance that the canvas would not
leak, a fine spray was filling the tent like a thin fog, through
which the lights glowed in pale circles.
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