Pa thinks ma would last
about two days with the show, but I guess if she took a course of
treatment with peanuts and red lemonade one afternoon and evening, she
would want to throw up her job, and go back home in charge of a stomach
specialist.
Well, pa showed up at the house in his circus clothes this afternoon,
and he certainly is a peach. Pa has been letting his chin whiskers grow
for about six weeks, and today he had them colored black, and he looks
as though he had swallowed the blacking brush, and left the bunch of
bristles outside, on his chin. He looks fierce. Then, he has got a new
brand of silk hat, with a wide, curling brim, and he has had a vest made
of black and blue check goods, the checks as big as the checks on a
checker board, and a pair of pants that look like a diamond-back
rattlesnake, and he has got an imitation diamond stud in his white shirt
that looks like a paper weight.
Ma wanted to know if there was any law to compel pa to dress like that,
'cause he looked as though he was a gambler or a train robber. Pa says
that a circus proprietor has got to look different from anybody else, in
order to inspire fear and respect on the part of the hands around the
show, as well as the audiences that flock to the arena, and he asked ma
if she didn't remember old Dan Rice, and old John Robinson.
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