a thousand dollars to have a circus come to town! In the first place, I don't believe he has the money; and in the second, what does he want to hire a circus for? Say, honest, hasn't he got away from some asylum?"
"Dick Hamilton broke out of an asylum!" exclaimed the marshall. "Well, I rather guess not! As for him not having the money, you're wrong there. Why, that's Mortimer Hamilton's son," and he showed his pride at being acquainted with Dick.
"Mortimer Hamilton, president of the Hamilton National Bank?" asked the manager, incredulously.
"That's him," replied the marshall.
"Say!" exclaimed the manager rather faintly, sitting limply down in a chair. "Give me a glass of water, will you, please. Mortimer Hamilton, the multi-millionaire! And I thought his son didn't have a thousand dollars! Excuse me, Mr. Hamilton," he said, heartily, as he held out his hand to Dick. "I beg your pardon."
"That's all right," replied Dick, with a smile. "Whom shall I make the check out to?"
"Me," replied the manager. "Wellington Dappleton. But say," he added, "would you mind telling me what you want of the circus?"
"I'll tell you," answered Dick, with something of a serious air. "When I was out walking this morning I saw a procession from the orphan asylum. I heard about the circus being over
