"Well, Polly, my girl," said Mr. Atkins, with a hearty laugh,
"I've spoke to you three times, and you seem deef to-day."

He was a jolly good-tempered man, and very kind to Mrs. Pepper,
sometimes giving her sacks and coats to make when he really
didn't need them just then; and though he never waited for his
money but once, and that was when the children had the measles,
and Joel nearly died, he used to give large measures of things,
and sometimes he'd slip in an apple or two, and once a whole
fine orange went into the bag of Indian meal, so as to be a
surprise when it was opened at home. So Polly liked Mr. Atkins
very much.

Now she blushed rosy red. "Oh, I didn't mean--" she began, and
was just going to say, "Please, I'd like three pounds rye flour,
Mr. Atkins," when he broke out, "I s'pose you're athinkin'
about the circus--don't wonder--I got my mind some on it
myself."

"O dear, no," cried Polly, hastily, all in a tremble, and only
anxious to get it out of her mind as soon as possible, and
whirling around with her back to the wonderful picture.

"I s'pose, now, your Ma don't approve of 'em," he said, looking
quite solemn all at once; "well there, I s'pose they ain't quite
'xactly the thing, but they look pretty nice on paper. See that
fellow, now, Polly, a-flyin' through that ring. Beats all how
they do it. Makes my head spin to look at him. See there!" and
Mr. Atkins pointed a stubby forefinger, shaking with excitement,