The Circus Comes to Town | Page 4

"Where've you kids been? That old poster has been up for a week. Two new ones were pasted up to-day--one at Jenkins' corner and the other on Jeffreys' barn. It's Burrows and Fairchild's mammoth circus and menagerie and it's coming a week from Thursday."
"Are you going, Darn?" asked Danny.
"Am I going?" repeated that youth. "I should say I am going--in a box seat."
"Is it a big circus?" asked Chris.
"It's one of the biggest there is," replied Darn, "with elephants and clowns and a bearded lady and everything. I'll tell you all about it the next day."
Without more ado, he began to whistle and continued on his way. When he was out of sight, Jerry turned back to the billboard, and the Mullarkey children lined up at his side and stood in silent contemplation of the delights forecast in the picture. They felt a new respect for that elephant.
"I don't suppose we can go," said Chris at length in a voice that invited contradiction. His remark was met by silence and they continued to stare at the elephant.
Jerry was puzzled. "What does it want you to ask your mother for fifty cents for?" he asked Danny.
"To buy a ticket for the circus, of course."
"Will she give you fifty cents?"
Danny seemed struck by some sudden thought; whether or not his question had inspired it Jerry was unable to tell. After pondering for a time, Danny set out towards home on a run without having answered the question.
"Where're you goin'?" asked Chris, with a tinge of suspicion in his voice.
"I'm goin' to ask mother and see."
"That's no fair!" cried Chris. "You can run the fastest and 'll get to ask her first."
"She can't give fifty cents to all of us," replied Danny and kept on running.
"Danny Mullarkey! You're a mean old thing!" called Nora.
Already Chris was racing after Danny; the contagion soon spread and first Nora and then Celia Jane were running with all their might after their brothers.
Jerry started to run after them, but it was a half-hearted run and he brought up a very laggard rear. He never tried to get anything for himself that the clannish Mullarkey brood had in their possession, or to which they could with any shred of justice lay claim. If he did, he knew by experience that they would all unite against him--all except Mother 'Larkey, who, trying to earn money to support them all, could not always know what was going on under her tired, kindly eyes, much less the things that took place behind her back. And baby Kathleen, who was too little to feel the claims of the Mullarkey blood and who loved everybody.
But Jerry was sure he had never seen a circus and he did want to go to this one and see the elephant jump the fence. He felt very friendly to that elephant and well acquainted with it. The roguish look in its eyes, in the picture, made it seem a very nice sort of elephant and he knew he would like it.
But he also knew that Mother 'Larkey found it very hard to make both ends meet since her husband died--he had often heard her say so--but there might be a possible chance that she would have several fifty-cent pieces, so he started again to run after the other children, keeping close enough to be in time if Mrs. Mullarkey should happen to be distributing fifty-cent pieces among her brood and there should happen to be an extra one for him. Even though she were not his mother, she might give it to him, she had already done so many things for him.
CHAPTER II
THE BLACK HALF-DOLLAR
Jerry's progress was brought to a sudden halt and he was sent sprawling to the ground by running full tilt into a man who tried to turn the same corner at the same time Jerry did, but from the opposite direction. The impact was so swift and so hard that Jerry was whirled clear around and fell on his face, striking two small pieces of board lying near the sidewalk and loosening a plank in the sidewalk itself.
"Oh!" gasped the man's voice.
Before Jerry could stir he heard a clink as of metal falling on board. He half turned on his back and looked dazedly up at the man, who was pressing both hands into the pit of his stomach. His face was very red. He spoke to Jerry hesitatingly, as though he could not get his breath.
'Are you--hurt--much?"
"N-no, I guess not," Jerry replied, sitting up and feeling of a bruised place on his arm.
"You just about knocked the breath out of me," said the man in a more natural voice and one which Jerry now recognized as belonging to Harry Barton, the clerk at the corner drug store.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Barton. If I'd