The Circus Comes to Town | Page 7

Mother 'Larkey said was bad for babies, and his lips
suddenly closed in a firm, straight line. He clutched the half-dollar
tightly in one hand, the bottle in the other, and set out as fast as his legs
would carry him. He did not dare waste a moment for fear the
temptation to change his mind would prove too great to be resisted.
Not once did he slacken speed till he reached the corner drug store.
Speechless for lack of breath, he passed the bottle over the counter to
Mr. Barton.
"Well, Jerry, what is it this time?" asked the clerk.
Jerry panted a moment before he could reply.
"Some more of--that cough medicine--for Kathleen."
"That won't take long," said Mr. Barton. "All I've got to do is to pour it
from a big bottle into this little one."
He disappeared behind the prescription case, but was back long before
Jerry's pulse had had time to slow down to its customary beat.
"There you are," he said. "Forty-five cents."
Jerry passed over the precious half-dollar. The pang of regret at the
thought of circus delights, once so nearly his, now beyond his reach, he
resolutely forced out of his mind every time he caught himself thinking
about it. He tried to whistle to help forget the circus, but to his surprise
not a sound issued from his lips. They were too dry to whistle. Then he
suddenly heard the drug clerk exclaim:
"Gee whillikens! This is the identical half-dollar you found this
afternoon! I can tell it by the black mark on it."

"Yes, it is," Jerry admitted in a forlorn tone.
"So you told about finding it--"
"No, I didn't," interrupted Jerry, "but Kathleen was all out of cough
medicine and Mother 'Larkey didn't have no money."
"I see. Then you told what--"
"No, I just got the bottle and brought it here."
Mr. Barton whistled.
"Jerry, you're some boy, and there's my hand on it."
Jerry felt himself flushing as he took the proffered hand which shook
his warmly.
"Grit!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "Pure grit. That's what I call it, if
anybody should ask you. And you won't get to see the circus at all."
"I guess Kathleen's cough is more important than the circus," replied
Jerry. "Summer coughs are bad for babies."
"You're right there, but I'm mighty sorry you can't go. I know how my
two boys will feel if they have to stay away."
He rang up the forty-five cents and returned a nickel to Jerry.
"There, I guess you've earned the right to spend the nickel on yourself."
"Give me a nickel's worth of cough drops--the kind with honey in 'em,"
said Jerry.
"You don't want cough drops, Jerry. Here's some good candy. It's got
lots of lemon in it."
"Kathleen likes the cough drops with honey in 'em," explained Jerry.
"She doesn't cough so bad after eating one of them."

"Well, you beat my time, Jerry! You must like Kathleen an awful lot."
"I do," admitted Jerry in a low voice, as a customer entered the store.
He took the bag of cough drops and darted out through the door, but
not too quickly to overhear Mr. Barton saying to the man who had
entered:
"That boy's got enough sand to supply all the contractors in town.
Plucky as they make 'em."
Jerry was not quite sure that he understood what Mr. Barton meant
about the sand, but his saying that he was plucky made him feel glad
and uncomfortable at the same time. Somehow it didn't seem quite so
hard to have given up seeing the circus. He wouldn't mind not seeing
the elephant jump the fence--well, not so very much. He could look at
the billboard poster all he wanted to and that would be almost as good.
He started home on a run but soon slackened his speed, and the nearer
he got the slower became his pace. He didn't want Danny to know that
he had bought something for Kathleen, for Danny called him
"Kathleen's pet" as it was and he didn't like to be laughed at. Perhaps he
could sneak in without any of them seeing him and put the bottle back
on the shelf and no one would know how it got full.
The Mullarkey children were still picking gooseberries and Mother
'Larkey was still in the living room sewing on Mrs. Green's dress. Jerry
tiptoed carefully into the kitchen, replaced the bottle, stuffed the cough
drops into his blouse pocket and went into the living room, where he
squatted down by Kathleen.
Hardly had he done so when the voices of the other children coming
back to the house were heard.
"Gooseberries all picked?" sighed Mrs. Mullarkey. "Then I must be
getting supper."
When she left the room,