They juggle eggs and share real farmwork until the circus train returns along the distant tracks. Without makeup, the child-clown's smile disappears is he sad to lose that connection to his home-train, or had the smile been made of makeup all along? With growing tenderness, the farmer watches over his sleeping guest and, come morning, hops and dances to cheer him up. Silently they stare at each other, eat and wash their faces. The clown deftly pantomimes having fallen off the train-action and emotion shine wordlessly-and the farmer takes him home. He finds a small clown, wearing white makeup, a red-and-yellow costume and a broad smile. The startled farmer sets out in that direction. As the train chugs off the edge of the spread, a jolt propels something off the caboose. In the distance, surprisingly, a steam train crosses the horizon. A tall, scowling farmer labors with a pitchfork on an endless brown field. A solitary farmer on an empty plain receives the most unlikely visitor.
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