Toby Tyler; Or, Ten Weeks with a Circus

"Wouldn't you give more 'n six peanuts for a cent?" was a question asked by a very small boy, with big, staring eyes, of a candy vender at a circus booth. And as he spoke he looked wistfully at the quantity of nuts piled high up on the basket, and then at the six, each of which now looked so small as he held them in his hand. "Couldn't do it," was the reply of the proprietor of the booth, as he put the boy's penny carefully away in the drawer. The little fellow looked for another moment at his purchase, and then carefully cracked the largest one. A shade—and a very deep shade it was—of disappointment passed over his face, and then, looking up anxiously, he asked, "Don't you swap 'em when they're bad?"