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Neale Sorber that's his name. And I'm goin' to take him away with me." Agnes was both frightened and angry as she listened to the man in the topboots. Beside, she was well aware that he referred to Neale O'Neil. He had come for Neale. He threatened to beat Neale with every snap of his heavy riding whip along the leg of his shiny boots. He was a beast! That is what Agnes told herself.
"And he is," Sorber said. "Aye. But he has another side to him that has no Sorber to it. 'Tis the O'Neil side. It's what has set him at his books till he is the foinest scholar in the Milton Schools, bar none. Mr. Marks told me himself 'twas so." This surprised Neale and the girls for they had not known how deep was the Irishman's interest in his protégé. "He's only half a Sorber, sir.
That was a trick that she seemed never to grow out of. "Hello!" said Mr. Sorber, with rough joviality, "who are these little dames? Goin' to say how-de-do to old Bill Sorber?" Tess, the literal, came forward with her hand outstretched. "How do you do, Mr. Sorber," she said. Dot was a little bashful. But Agnes, having a brilliant idea, said: "This is Neale's uncle, Dot. Mr.
The name of Twomley & Sorter's Herculean Circus and Menagerie struck a cord of memory in Agnes' mind. It was one of the two shows that had exhibited at Milton the season before. This man said that Neale had run away from this show. He claimed his name was really Neale Sorber! And all the time Neale had denied any knowledge of circuses. Or, had he done just that?
"Oh, Ruthie! I never thought of that," squealed Agnes. "But suppose Neale comes before you can get Mr. Howbridge here?" Ruth put on her thinking cap. "I tell you," she said. "Introduce me to Mr. Sorber. Get him to promise to stay to supper with Neale. That will give us time." This plot was carried out. Ruth saw Mr. Sorber, too, under a much more favorable light.
Dolls were much too tame for Dot and Tess, when they realized that they had a real live lion tamer in their clutches. So they had Mr. Sorber down on a seat in the corner of the summer-house, and he was explaining to them just how the lions looked, and acted even how they roared. "It's lots more int'resting than going to the circus to see them," Dot said, reflectively.
And that's what I wanted to bring my nevvy up to, only his mother kicked over the traces and wouldn't have it." "My!" murmured Tess. "It must be a very int'resting business. Do do the lions ever bite?" "They chews their food reg'lar," said Mr. Sorber gravely, but his eyes twinkled. "But none of 'em's ever tried to chew me. I reckon I look purty tough to 'em."
"I don't know that I do," Agnes retorted, desperately. "And if I did know, I wouldn't tell you!" The man struck his riding boot sharply again. "What's that? what's that?" he growled. Agnes' pluck was rising. "I'm not afraid of you so there!" she said, bobbing her head at him. "Why, bless you, Miss!" ejaculated Sorber. "I should hope not.
"So that's what he calls himself, is it?" repeated Sorber. "O'Neil was his father's name. I didn't think he would remember." "We can't be talking about the same boy," blurted out Agnes, trying to cover her "bad break." "You say his name is Sorber." "Oh, he could take any name.
"How much what?" demanded Mr. Sorber, bending his brows upon the Irishman, while the children waited breathlessly. "Money. Neale's a big drawin' kyard ye say yerself. Then, how much money will ye take for your right to him?" Mr. Sorber laid down his knife and fork and stared at Mr. Murphy. "Do you mean that, sir?" he asked, with strange quietness.
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