His costume was
suspended from a line in the dressing tent where many other
costumes were hanging to air and dry after the strenuous labors
of their owners.
Phil took his slender belongings down, shook them out well and
laid them in the trunk that Mrs. Waite had given him. It was too
late for Phil to get his bag from the baggage wagon, so with a
grin he locked his tights and his wig in the trunk.
"Guess they won't break their backs lifting that outfit," he
mused.
Phil then strolled in to watch the show. He found many new
points of interest and much that was instructive, as he studied
each act attentively and with the keenness of one who had been in
the show business all his life.
"Someday I'll have a show like this myself," nodded the boy. He
did not know that he expressed his thoughts aloud until he
noticed that the people sitting nearest to him were regarding him
with amused smiles.
Phil quickly repressed his audible comments.
The show was soon over; then came the noise and the confusion of
the breaking up. The illusion was gone--the glamor was a thing
of the past. The lad strolled about slowly in search of his
companion, whom he eventually found in the dressing tent.
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