Chandler, and Harry Donnelle said it was mighty lucky we had decided to
stay over night in that neighborhood. He said he had always thought that
the world was about as big as a coconut, but now he knew it was the size
of a green pea. He said the trouble with it was there wasn't enough elbow
room, and scouts couldn't get away into the woods and be alone, because on
account of the crowds--crowds of missing people. Oh, he was great and,
believe me, we liked that fellow.
None of those Church Mice even knew that Horace E. Chandler was Jib Jab who
was in the circus. On the quiet, Jib told us that Mr. Costello didn't mind
his leaving like that, because _what-is-its_ were easy to get, on account
of so many of them being out of work--I mean people. But Jib said, Mr.
Costello told him he was the best _what-is-it_ he ever had, and he would
give him a good recommendation, if he wanted it.
So that's the end of _Jib Jab is he human?_ And, gee, you'll have to admit
he was human, all right. He said he wouldn't go home to Greendale unless
the Church Mice went with him and stayed for a few days on his father's
farm.
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