Sal on the sofa playing the concertina; Dad squatting on the edge of a flat stone at the corner of the fireplace; Dave on another opposite; both gazing into the fire, which was almost out, and listening intently to the music; the dog, dripping wet, coiled at their feet, shivering; Mother sitting dreamily at the table, her palm pressed against her cheek, also enjoying the music.
Sal played on until the concertina broke.

Then there was a silence.
For a while Dave played with a piece of charcoal.

At last he spoke.
"Well," he said, looking at Dad, "what about this circus ?" Dad chuckled.
"But what d' y' THINK ?" "Well" (Dad paused), "yes" (chuckled again)--"very well." "A CIRCUS!" Sal put in--"a PRETTY circus YOUS'D have!" Dave fired up.
"YOU go and ride the red heifer, strad-legs, same as y' did yesterday," he snarled, "an' let all the country see y'." Sal blushed.
Then to Dad: "I'm certain, with Paddy Maloney in it, we could do it right enough, and make it pay, too." "Very well, then," said Dad, "very well.

There's th' tarpaulin there, and plenty bales and old bags whenever you're ready." Dave was delighted, and he and Dad and Joe ran out to see where the tent could be pitched, and ran in again wetter than the dog.
One day a circus-tent went up in our yard.

It attracted a lot of notice.