"What, the black horse?"
"Yes, that black swine."
*****
"I can't stand this country. All the women look to me like men, and all the men like women. I saw about thirty of them loading a waggon of wheat this morning. It's barbarous, that's what it is," remarked Miss Lucile, the wire-walker.
"And the way the people bathe too, men and women all together; I call it disgustin'," Quito declared.
"I niver see'd sich a country for rain. It's Mister Tommy de Lo all day long."
"And d'ye mind how before we started they were all for telling how the sun was always shining in la belle France?"
"It's a dreary place, I call it, niver a Sunday from month end to month end," chimed in old Mrs. Chigwin, as she settled her fringe. "This 'ull be the first year for nine years that I've missed Bank Holiday at Portsmouth. You see no life here—no great crowds trippin' about, enjoyin' of themselves. Oh dear, oh dear, what would I jest give to be 'ome agin—nice clean lodgings and a bit of fresh steak," she concluded mournfully.
"I reckon it 'ud be a lot better if we could pick up the lingo-I can't get beyond 'quatre sous cognac,'" broke in the vet.
"Ah! you'd learn that quick enough in Chinese, doctor."
"I only joined the show five months ago, when they came tenting in France," the old man remarked, turning to me. "I've had a proper college education, though you might'n't think it, and fine business down at Reading. Many's the year, I tell you, that I've turned over more than two thousand pounds. This has been a terrible come-down for me."
"What was the trouble?" I asked.
"Drink, young man, drink," he answered warningly, "and
