"'Ho, ye drowsy drones! The Queen is a-thirst;A penny for him who brings a pail first.Hurry and scurry—'"
Jerry suddenly found that he did remember what came next and interrupted his father:
"'—an' go at a prance!'"
"That's it!" cried Mrs. Bowe.
"'Run to the spring,'" quoted Mr. Bowe and Jerry finished:
"'—an' back at a dance.Bringing water for the ellifants!'"
Jerry felt so proud of himself for having remembered so much that he forgot all about the man with the red scar and being afraid of him.
"I 'membered it, didn't I, Whiteface?"
"Yes," answered the clown, "you did, and it proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are my lost little son and you've got the right to call me father."
"Father," said Jerry experimentally, trying to see how it sounded. And then "Father!" he cried exultantly.
"And not mother, too?" asked the elephant-lady in a reproachful tone.
"And Mother!" cried Jerry, sliding out of his father's arms and running to her. He climbed upon her lap and buried his face on her shoulder and gave her neck a very hard hug, just to show how much he was going to love her.
"Oh, you are my own darling, loving Gary!" she cried in a voice that was tearful, but very joyful through the tearfulness, while she almost squeezed the breath out of Jerry again. "And now we must go at once and thank kind, good Mrs. Mullarkey for caring for our boy."
"Yes," said her husband. "The circus is out and we will have time before the evening performance."
"Mother 'Larkey will be awful glad to see the circus," Jerry remarked. "She ain't seen none since just after she was married. An' so will Nora and Celia Jane."
"You boys wait here while Helen and I get ready," said Whiteface, "and then we'll pay our respects to Mrs. Mullarkey and Nora and Celia Jane and Kathleen."
"You won't go out of the tent, will you, Gary?" asked the elephant-lady.
"No'm," Jerry promised, and then at the look of disappointment and longing on her face, cried, "No, Mother!" He ran and gave her a good-by hug. "I'll wait right here."
When Jerry and Danny and Chris were left alone, there was an abashed silence at first, broken after a minute by Chris' remarking:
"Gee, ain't it excitin', Jerry! Findin' your father and mother an' being lifted up in a el'funt's trunk an' your father a clown in the circus and all?"
"Yes," smiled Jerry with satisfaction. "He's the greatest clown ever lived."
"I guess that's so," Danny stated judicially and also apologetically, for he wished to make up with Jerry for getting his circus ticket away from him.
"It is so!" cried Jerry emphatically.
"That's what I meant, Jerry—I mean, Gary." A silence fell and then Danny continued: "I wish I'd never of asked Celia Jane to cry and get your ticket away from you."
Jerry said nothing, as he remembered how Danny had tricked him, and Danny, after shifting about uneasily, added as though in justification of his action:
"If I hadn't of, you'd probably never of met your father. He couldn't of spoken to you if he hadn't seen you before you got into the circus."
That impressed Jerry as a point of view that might be true and somehow he didn't feel angry at Danny and Celia Jane any more. He was too happy at having a clown for his father to hold resentment.
"Mebbe not," was all he said, but Danny took those words as meaning that Jerry wasn't going to stay mad.
"How'd you get in?" he asked eagerly.
"Whiteface thought of a way that didn't cost any money," replied Jerry.
"What kind of a way was that?" Danny was all eagerness for information of that sort.
"I don't know," said Jerry. "He thought of something an' told me to keep my eyes shut an' I didn't see what he done."
"Didn't you open 'em jest once?" demanded Danny. "I would of and then mebbe we could of got into other circuses that way."
"It might of mixed our thoughts, like when I said something when he told me not to," Jerry observed.
"What d'you mean, mixin' your thoughts?"
Jerry was saved by the entrance of Mr. Burrows from trying to explain just what he did mean by that, for he hadn't understood very well himself. The circus man was smiling all over as he approached Jerry and seemed just as pleased that Jerry had found his parents as Jerry was himself.
"Well, well, well," he said, holding out a hand which Jerry accepted in the same amicable spirit in which it was offered, "so you're the son of Robert Bowe! We weregood friends before you were stolen and I hope will be again when you get reacquainted with me. Maybe your father and mother will be satisfied to stay with the circus now that you have been found."
"Was they goin' to leave the circus?" asked Danny in an awed voice.
"So they said," answered Mr. Burrows, "but now I guess they'll stay."
"Go away an' not be a clown no more?" Jerry asked this new-old friend, as one man to another.
"Go away and not be a clown any more," Mr. Burrows asserted.
Just then a man and woman entered and came straight to Jerry. Why, it was Jerry's mother and a strange man!
Mrs. Bowe didn't look the same in an ordinary blue dress and without the paint on her cheeks and lips and yet Jerry had recognized her almost at once; perhaps it was her golden-brown hair, or, more likely, the joy which sparkled in her eyes and lighted up her face.
"I didn't go away once, Mother," he said.
She smiled at him and the strange man spoke.
"I knew you wouldn't," he said.
Jerry was dumfounded and so must Danny and Chris have been, for they gasped. The voice that issued from the lips of the strange man was the voice of Whiteface, the clown, the new-found father of Jerry!
Jerry's thoughts were paralyzed for a minute and he could only stare up at Robert Bowe, ordinary citizen, in stupefaction.
So that was what his father looked like when he didn't have the clown costume on, with his face all chalked and his lips rouged! Just a common, ordinary, everyday, plain man, like—like Dan Mullarkey was, or Tom Phillips or Darn Darner's father. He was not very tall and not very big, and his face was rather long and there was quite a sprinkling of gray in his hair.
Jerry was so terribly disappointed in his father that, after that long stare, he gazed away and would not look up at him again. He winked his eyes to keep the tears from coming.
"What is it, Jerry?" asked Mrs. Bowe. "Tell mother."
Jerry tried to think of something to saythat wouldn't hurt his father's feelings or his mother's, but couldn't, and he stood there in misery and disappointment, his lips quivering and twisting and the tears gathering on his eyelashes.
It was Danny who voiced the emotions that Jerry was experiencing.
"You look different," he said. "Only your voice sounds the same."
"Bless my soul!" cried Mr. Burrows, and laughed heartily. "The boy's disappointed that his father's just a man and not a clown."
"Is that it, Jerry?" asked his mother, falling to her knees and gathering him close to her breast.
"He ain't Whiteface," Jerry mourned softly in her ear.
Mr. Bowe laughed at that, and it was such a good-humored, infectious chuckle of mirth that Jerry at last looked up at his very disappointing father, and the twinkle in his father's eyes and the engaging, twisty smile that played about his lips comforted Jerry. This father of his wasn't so ordinary looking, after all! But a clown is so much more interesting than just an everyday father.
"You'll see Whiteface often enough," he promised Jerry, "to satisfy even you."
"Nora won't," said Jerry, "nor Kathleen nor Celia Jane."
"The boy's right!" exclaimed Mr. Burrows. "Dress up as the clown to see the woman who's cared for Gary and I'll have Sultana got ready for you to ride on. The boy's a better press agent than the one I pay to advertise the circus. I announced that Sultana had found your stolen child and told the newspaper men all about it. You and your wife ride on Sultana through the town, and you'll be followed by all the children at the circus and those who are not here, and the circus will get such an advertising as it never had before. And it will make Gary happy, too."
"Will it, Gary?" asked his father.
"Yes!" cried Jerry, thrilled at the thought of riding through the town on an elephant, with his father and mother. "It'll be better 'n a circus."
"Robert Bowe, disappear!" commanded Robert Bowe.
That surprising father of Jerry's waggedhis head solemnly with such a comical look that Jerry shrieked with delight as Mr. Bowe turned a handspring that carried him through the curtains into another part of the tent.
Mr. Burrows went out laughing, to have Sultana brought around, and Jerry waited impatiently for Whiteface to reappear. His most blissful dreams had been exceeded this wonderful day, and now the most wonderful part was still to come.
He was too excited to pay very close attention to what his mother said, and Danny and Chris seemed to have been struck dumb by this dazzling height of glory that was about to befall "Orfum" Jerry Elbow, who had suddenly been transformed into Gary L. Bowe, son of a clown and of an elephant-lady.
Suddenly there sounded the delightful clicking that Whiteface made with his mouth and Jerry's eyes almost popped out of his head in his eagerness for Whiteface to reappear. He watched the curtain where his everyday father had disappeared, without daring to wink his eyes for fear Whiteface would get in without his seeing him.
As he watched, he felt himself being liftedin a pair of strong arms and twisted his head around to see who it might be.
It was Whiteface! He had got back without Jerry's seeing him! Yet Jerry was sure he hadn't winked his eyes, not even once.
"Away we go to the Mullarkey house! Away we go to the Mullarkey house!" chanted Whiteface, whirling around and around, as he carried Jerry on his shoulder out of the tent to where Sultana and an elephant keeper were awaiting them. Jerry's mother followed close, smiling at his delight. From the corner of his eye, Jerry saw Danny and Chris walking slowly behind her.
The keeper put up a little ladder against the elephant's side and Whiteface ran lightly up it and deposited Jerry on a cushioned seat that ran around the little house on Sultana's back that he called a howdah. Then he helped Mrs. Bowe up and sat down by her. The keeper had taken the ladder away when Jerry again saw Danny and Chris looking up at him in envy. There was plenty of room in the little house for them. He turned to his father.
"Is Great Sult Anna O'Queen's back strongenough for her to carry Danny and Chris, too?"
The most surprised look spread over Whiteface's features and the beautiful lady remarked:
"Gary has your kind, thoughtful nature."
"I think Great Sult Anna O'Queen's Irish back is strong enough to carry Danny and Chris. I'll ask her. First though, we'd better find out how much they weigh?"
"How much do you weigh, Danny?" Jerry called down.
"I don't know," replied Danny.
"If you don't weigh too much, mebbe you and Chris can ride, too."
"Us ride on a el'funt!" exclaimed Danny. "Why, why, I don't weigh much, do I, Chris?"
"No," replied Chris eagerly. "You're not big enough to weigh much and I'm littler than you are."
"I think I can tell near enough," said Whiteface; "Danny weighs about sixty pounds and Chris about forty. That makes one hundred pounds and I weigh one hundred and sixty-five. Helen, how much do you weigh?"
"A hundred and twenty pounds," she answered.
"I never can remember that. That makes two hundred and sixty-five and one hundred and twenty is three hundred and eighty-five pounds and there's Gary. He must weigh thirty pounds—say four hundred and fifteen pounds altogether."
Whiteface jumped from the little house on Sultana's back to her head, sat down on top of that, leaned over and whispered something in the elephant's ear.
Jerry stood up so he could see better, and as he did so the elephant's ear, which Whiteface had lifted up, wiggled and flopped out of the clown's hand.
"She says four hundred and fifteen pounds is not too much on this occasion," Whiteface announced and directed the keeper to help Danny and Chris up to Sultana's back. But Danny and Chris didn't need any help in running up the ladder.
Then Mr. Burrows approached and tossed a bit of paper up to Mrs. Bowe.
"That's a pass for a box at the circus to-night for Mrs. Mullarkey and all her family," he said.
"Is one pass good for all of them?" asked Jerry, as Danny caught the precious bit of paper and handed it to Mrs. Bowe.
"Yes," laughed Mr. Burrows, "it is when it's got the name of Edward J. Burrows on it. Just tell her to show that to the ticket seller and he'll give her the seats."
Then Whiteface, still sitting on top of the elephant's head, told the keeper he was ready and Sultana started. It took Jerry and Danny and Chris quite a while to become accustomed to the manner in which the palanquin joggled about on Sultana's back, but they were getting used to it when the elephant reached the street close to the entrance of the main tent where the people were streaming out from the performance.
There was a shout from the small boys in the crowd who immediately swarmed about Sultana and tagged on in the rear as she ambled patiently down the street. They looked enviously at Jerry and Danny and Chris and raised such a hubbub that every child they passed and many of the grown persons, too, fell in line. The story of how the elephant had recognized the lost boy andpicked him right up out of the audience passed rapidly from mouth to mouth, with the result that no one left the ever lengthening procession that followed the elephant.
Jerry took turns with Danny and Chris in directing the elephant keeper how to get to Mrs. Mullarkey's. Jerry would not have missed one joggle or sway of that ride for worlds. He saw Darn Darner in the crowd following them, and he was glad that such a stuck-up boy should see what a high place in the world Jerry Elbow had reached and be envious of him. He even waved to Darn to make sure that Darn knew that he saw him.
"Hello, Jerry!" cried Darn in a loud voice, so that everybody would know he knew Jerry, and swaggered up close to the elephant. "How does it seem to be ridin' on an el'funt?"
"Fine!" Jerry exclaimed ecstatically.
"Don't you wish you was up here?" Danny asked in a voice that was not nearly so friendly as Jerry's had been.
"Anybody would, I guess," was Darn's reply.
"Well, you ain't," said Danny. "You're down there breathing the dust we make."
"There's the house!" cried Jerry.
"Which one?" asked Whiteface from his seat on the elephant's head.
"The one with the paint all wore off," Danny explained.
"There's Nora and Celia Jane!" cried Chris.
"I see them!" Jerry exclaimed and called his mother's attention to them. They were standing by the gate, watching the strange procession approach.
"Hello, Celia Jane! I'm ridin' on a el'funt!" Jerry cried shrilly to make her hear.
Celia Jane both heard and saw and she seemed glued to the gate-post with surprise. Her mouth opened as though she were going to speak and remained open, without a word coming out. Nora turned and fled into the house crying:
"Mother! Mother! Jerry's ridin' by on a el'funt from the circus!"
A moment later the keeper halted Sultana in front of the gate, and that fact unglued Celia Jane from the gate-post and caused words at last to flow from her opened mouth.
"Mother! They're stoppin' here!" she cried, in turn running to the house. She kept her eyes turned back on the elephant and ran into Nora, who was pulling Mrs. Mullarkey, with Kathleen in her arms, out through the door.
Whiteface now commanded Sultana to help him down, and she raised her trunk, wrapped it around his body and lowered him to the ground. The crowd of boys and girls who had pushed up as close as they could made way for him, while Jerry and his mother climbed down the ladder the elephant trainer placed for them, followed by Danny and Chris.
"Mother!" called Celia Jane. "There's Danny on the el'funt and Chris too!"
"For land sakes!" cried Mrs. Mullarkey. "Nothing has happened to any of the children, has there?"
"We're all right, Mother 'Larkey!" Jerry assured her.
"Nothing at all, madam," said Whiteface approaching her, "except that Jerry Elbow has found his parents."
Mrs. Mullarkey stared at Whiteface, too astounded to speak.
"An' his name ain't Jerry Elbow," cried Danny. "It's Gary L. Bowe."
"An' the el'funt knew him in a whole crowd of people," Chris added, "an' picked him up with its trunk."
"The people thought the elephant was mad at first," said Darn Darner, who had approached as close as he could get to the clown.
"The el'funt picked him up in its trunk?" gasped Celia Jane, her eyes growing bigger and bigger.
"An' we're all goin' to the circus to-night!" Danny informed them.
"All of us!" Celia Jane got breath enough to utter.
"Me, too?" Nora asked.
"Yes, all of you!" laughed Jerry. "And Kathleen, too."
"I wanta see serka," cried the baby.
"And so you shall," said Whiteface, so close that Kathleen drew whimpering away from his white, chalky features. "It's all true, Mrs. Mullarkey."
"Don't be afraid of Whiteface, Kathleen,"called Jerry. "He's father."
At last Mrs. Mullarkey found her voice, but at the queer, choking sound she made, Jerry looked up and saw tears running down her face.
"I can't tell you howgladI am that you have found your father and mother, Jerry," she said. "Mr. Darner is here now and, after all, he was going to take you away—this very day. And Celia Jane—" She couldn't finish, but put Kathleen down and covered her face with her apron, rocking her body back and forth.
Jerry looked towards the house and saw at the living-room window the face of a man,—a large, heavy face that seemed to scowl out at the crowd.
Jerry's new-found mother went quickly to Mother 'Larkey and placed a comforting arm about her shoulder.
"Iam Mrs. Bowe, Gary's mother," she said, "and oh, how can I ever thank you for loving him and giving him a home? I never can repay you."
"That we can't, Mrs. Mullarkey," Whiteface interposed. "But what is this about taking Gary away? And Celia Jane?"
"Let's go into the house first," suggested Mrs. Bowe. "We have too big an audience here."
She led the way, her arm still about Mrs. Mullarkey's shoulder. Jerry and his father followed, though Jerry turned at the door to have another look at Sultana and the admiring throng of children gathered about her.
Nora and Celia Jane, who had lapsed into tongue-tiedness after learning that they wereall going to see the circus that night, now started slowly into the house, Kathleen clinging to Nora's hand to keep from falling. But their eyes were turned back towards Sultana until they passed through the door.
Danny and Chris were also of two minds whether to follow the great clown or remain outside with the elephant, but their mother's statement that Mr. Darner had come to take Jerry away and was even then in the house finally drew them as a magnet, their eyes also directed towards Sultana until they stumbled through the door.
Jerry saw Darn Darner's father sitting by the living-room window and came to a stop. Mr. Darner was a dour, heavy-set man with a coarse, bristling gray beard. He glared at Whiteface through thick glasses.
"What does all this hullabaloo mean?" he asked Mrs. Mullarkey, in a gruff voice.
"It means," said Whiteface, answering for her and advancing towards Mr. Darner, Jerry's hand held tightly in his, "that Jerry Elbow has found his parents and the people have followed us here to show how glad they are."
"You his father? A clown in a circus?" asked Mr. Darner.
"Yes, I am his father and I am a clown in a circus," replied Whiteface.
"Mr. Darner is the County Overseer of the Poor," Mrs. Mullarkey explained. "He's been at me to give Jerry up and let him take him to the poor farm ever since my Dan died."
"It's for your own good and your children's—and Jerry's, too, if you weren't too blind to see it," the Overseer stated.
"After Dan's insurance money was all gone—and a good part of it went to finish paying for this house," Mrs. Mullarkey continued, "I couldn't make enough to keep the children decently. Mr. Darner's kept telling me that if I didn't let him take Jerry to the poor farm, I'd break down sooner or later and have to send my own children there or let them be adopted out. Mr. Phillips thought he could help—"
"Phillips is always butting into things that are none of his business," growled Mr. Darner.
"But this afternoon Mr. Darner came to take Jerry and I just couldn't hold out anylonger—I haven't the money or the strength. And he wants Danny to go to a place in the country to work for his board and wants me to let Celia Jane be adopted by a family in Hampton who are looking for a girl. He thinks I ought to see if Celia Jane won't suit them."
"Mother! Take me away from home!" wailed Celia Jane aghast.
"I'm at the end of my string," Mrs. Mullarkey's discouraged voice continued. "I've never been able to make both ends meet since Dan died."
"She couldn't make them meet so's to give us money to buy tickets to the circus," Jerry explained corroboratively to his father.
"You'll have to come to it eventually, Mrs. Mullarkey," warned the County Overseer. "This is a good chance for Celia Jane. The Thompsons are well fixed; they'll give her a fine home and a good education."
Celia Jane at that sat down on the floor and let her body relax into a limp bundle.
"I won't go!" she sobbed. "I won't leave mother! What would I do without mother?"
Jerry was very much distressed at CeliaJane's misery and he looked pleadingly up at his clown-father; that extraordinary man knew without a word having been spoken that Jerry expected him to fix things so that Celia Jane could stay with her mother. Whiteface spoke at once.
"Don't cry, Celia Jane. Nobody is going to take you away. Both ends are going to meet now. You're all going to stay here with your mother."
"You talk big," grumbled Mr. Darner. "Now to come down to brass tacks. Who's—"
"As long as I have any money, Mr. County Overseer," said Whiteface, "or as long as I have the power to make any, the Mullarkey household will not be broken up."
"Of course it won't, Robert," chimed in Jerry's mother in a crisp voice, as she raised Celia Jane from the floor and comforted her. "You always know just what to do."
Jerry's father continued:
"We are going to take Gary with us now, but we are going to try to repay Mrs. Mullarkey a little for all she has done and suffered for our boy. I have some money saved upand make a good salary. I want you to go to Mr. Burrows, one of the proprietors of the circus, and satisfy yourself on that point and that I am a man of my word. While you are doing that we can arrange with Mrs. Mullarkey. We want to be alone with her. I'll see you again before to-night's performance."
Mr. Darner stood up.
"I do not doubt your desire or ability in the matter," he said, "and, as you wish it, I will consult Mr. Burrows. Nobody can be gladder than I am that things have turned out this way. I don't like breaking up families and taking children out to the farm, though some people say that I do. I have to do a lot of things that go against the grain. I've wanted to do what was best for you, Mrs. Mullarkey."
"We are sure you meant things for the best, Mr. Darner," said Jerry's mother. "Good-by."
Mrs. Mullarkey was looking so hard at Jerry's parents that she did not return Mr. Darner's "Good afternoon" as he left the house or seem even to have heard it.
"It can't be true, what you just said," sheat length articulated in a choked voice. "Such things don't happen to us."
"It is true," Jerry's mother assured her.
"We shall not forget what you have done for Gary," said Whiteface. "I calculate that I owe you at the least one thousand dollars for taking care of him—"
"A thousand dollars!" gasped Danny. "Why, that's as much as father's insurance! I didn't know anybody could get that much money unless they died!"
Mrs. Mullarkey said nothing; her lips were trying to smile though the tears still stood in her eyes.
"Besides which," continued the clown, "Helen and I will help you look out for the children and we want you to call on us any time that you may be in trouble."
"We do, indeed," said Jerry's mother. "You cannot work so hard and take care of your children the way you want to. If you only lived near us—"
"Helen," interrupted Jerry's father, "I've been thinking, now that we are going to settle down in business, it would be a wise thing for Mrs. Mullarkey to sell her place here andmove to Carroll with us. Then we'll know how they are getting on and can look after the children some. I'll help her dispose of the place here and buy one in Carroll, if she would like such an arrangement."
"Would you, Mrs. Mullarkey?" asked Jerry's mother.
It took her such a long time to answer that Jerry looked up and saw her lips were twisting. She was crying inside so that you couldn't hear her. Jerry knew how that hurt—to cry when you didn't dare cry out loud. He had often done it in the night, before he ran away, so the man with the big red scar wouldn't hear him. He left his mother and Kathleen, climbed up on Mother 'Larkey's lap, put one arm about her neck and with his other hand patted her wet cheek.
"An' then Kathleen won't cry for me," he coaxed, "'cause I'll be right there an' can run over any time, couldn't I, Mother?"
"Yes, of course you could, dear."
"There, you see," he continued.
"I should love to," Mrs. Mullarkey replied at last to Mr. and Mrs. Bowe. "Itwould be such a relief to have some one I could go to for advice about the children. It's not that they're wayward or bad, but Danny is hot-headed like his father and thoughtless. I'm sure, he didn't mean to steal Jerry's ticket to the circus—"
"Why, mother!" exclaimed Danny. "I didn't steal it! He gave it to Celia Jane of his own free will and she gave it to me, didn't you, Celia Jane?"
"Yet it was stealing," replied his mother, "for you put Celia Jane up to it. Nora told me all about it and Nora never tells what is not true."
"You gave your ticket to Celia Jane, didn't you, Jerry—I mean, Gary?" appealed Danny.
"Yes," Jerry replied hesitantly.
"There, you see, Mother, I didn't steal it," Danny defended himself.
"Because you put Celia Jane up to getting Jerry's ticket for you," continued his mother, "you must stay home to-night and—"
"Not go to the circus!" exclaimed Danny. "When it don't cost nothin'!"
"And Celia Jane can keep you company.I've told you again and again that you couldn't impose upon Jerry just because he's not a Mullarkey."
"Stay home from the circus!" wailed Celia Jane, appalled, and then she burst into a flood of tears. Jerry was sure they were not crocodile ones this time, for her body shook with the sobs of anguished disappointment. He wanted Celia Jane to see the circus and Danny, too, and he knew Danny was sorry.
"Mebbe I wouldn't never have seen Whiteface—Father," he said to Mother 'Larkey, "if Danny hadn't gone into the circus."
"That is true," Whiteface corroborated. "I found him crying outside the tent and told him he could speak to me inside if he recognized me. He did recognize me and that was undoubtedly one of the things that led to the discovery of his identity."
"Danny likes me," Jerry added. "He fought Darn Darner when he said they was goin' to take me to the poor farm."
"So do I l-l-like you, J—J—Jerry," sobbed Celia Jane. "—I—I'm sorry I—" A fresh outburst of sobbing prevented further speech.
Jerry's heart was touched at her grief and his own lips began to twist.
"I want Danny and Celia Jane to see the circus, too, Mother 'Larkey," Jerry protested. "I ain't mad at them any more."
"Please let them come," urged Jerry's mother. "I am so happy that I can't bear to think of them being so terribly disappointed. And Gary's pleasure would be spoiled knowing they were here at home while the rest of you were at the circus."
"It does seem hard-hearted," Mrs. Mullarkey relented, "but Danny knows he can't pick on Jerry and not suffer for it. They can go to the circus, but I'll leave it to them what they shall do as a reminder that they mustn't pick on Jerry again. Danny, what will you do?"
Danny hesitated a moment and then said without a tremor:
"Jerry can have all my marbles and I'll feed his white rabbit for him all summer."
"Notallyour marbles?" queried Jerry, knowing what a pang it must have cost Danny voluntarily to decide to part with all hisagates and glassies and pee-wees and commies and steelies.
"Yes," said Mrs. Mullarkey, "every last one. Now, Celia Jane, stop your crying and tell us what you will do."
"I'll sweep the kitchen every day and do dishes without grumbling," Celia Jane sniffled, while Danny was off upstairs at a run.
"That will remind you to be more careful," said Mrs. Mullarkey, "and remember you are to work willingly, without any grumbling."
"I will, Mother," sobbed the girl.
"And now," Jerry heard his father saying, "it is time for us to be going back to the circus and of course Helen wants Gary with her now. We'll keep him with us for three weeks and then, when we play Hampton, I'll bring him back here for the rest of the summer. When our season closes we'll come for him and take him to Carroll."
"And we hope you will decide to move there, too, Mrs. Mullarkey," said Mrs. Bowe.
"I will if Mr. Bowe thinks it will be best for the children," she replied.
"I do think it so," said Whiteface. "To-morrow I'll mail you a check for one hundred dollars and the rest of the thousand I'll send to you as you want it. We'll arrange that when I bring Gary back. I have nothing with me now, as I haven't any pocket in these clothes."
"I have," said Mrs. Bowe and took several bills from her bag and pressed them into Mrs. Mullarkey's hands.
"I can't thank you," said Mother 'Larkey. "I don't know how."
"You've loved Gary, Mrs. Mullarkey. He wouldn't love you so much if you hadn't. That is more thanks than I want. We owe more than thanks to you. Tell them good-by, Gary. We must start."
Jerry was awfully glad that he had found his parents and that he was going with them and was much excited at the thought of traveling with the circus for three whole weeks and getting real well acquainted with Great Sult Anna O'Queen, but his throat grew all lumpy at the thought of leaving kindly Mother 'Larkey, loving Kathleen and gentle Nora and Chris and—yes, and Danny and Celia Jane, too.
Mrs. Mullarkey gathered him up in her arms and kissed him.
"Good-by, Jerry. You've brought good fortune to this family and put food into the mouths of my children and clothes on their backs when I couldn't see where they were to come from. You must love your mother hard for all the time she has been without you—and your father, too."
"I will," Jerry promised and squeezed her neck very hard and kissed her. Just then Danny came tumbling breathlessly downstairs and thrust a little cloth sack, which was very heavy, into Jerry's hand.
"Here are my marbles," he said. "All thirty-two of them."
"I don't want them," said Jerry.
"Take them with you, Jerry," Mother 'Larkey urged him. "It will help Danny to remember some things which he mustn't forget."
Jerry consulted his mother's eyes. She nodded her head and he took the marbles. Then he shook hands with Danny and Chris and Nora and kissed and hugged Kathleen,leaving Celia Jane till the last, because she was still sobbing.
Celia Jane did not feel entirely forgiven because Jerry seemed to avoid her and she abased herself before him.
"I—I'm s-s-sorry, Jerry. I'll n-n-never do it again. You ain't mad at m-m-me any m-m-more, are you, Jerry?"
"No, I ain't mad at you," Jerry assured her.
"Then will you m-m-marry me when we are g-g-grown up, Jerry?"
Jerry flushed uncomfortably at that and felt that Celia Jane was taking an unfair advantage of him, so he did not answer.
"W-w-will you, J-J-Jerry?" Celia Jane besought him.
"No," said Jerry at length.
"Why w-w-won't you?"
Jerry felt himself flushing still more hotly from head to foot, partly at the smile he saw his father and mother exchange and partly at Celia Jane's importunity.
"Because," he said.
"I'll g-g-give you my silver ring if you will, Jerry."
"No," said Jerry more firmly.
"Why won't you, J-J-Jerry?"
"Yes, Gary," interposed his father with a dancing, twinkling light in his eyes, "why can't you promise it to oblige the lady?"
"'Cause," Jerry informed him gravely, "when I grow up I'm goin' to marry Kathleen."
Jerry was somewhat dumfounded at the burst of laughter which followed his announcement. They did not know, he thought, that Kathleen had given him her old, adored rag dog of her own free will.
"The darling!" cried Mother 'Larkey, after she had stopped laughing. "But there is plenty of time to change your mind yet."
"Then you must be very kind to Kathleen, always," said Jerry's mother.
"He has been," said Mrs. Mullarkey.
Kathleen looked up at Jerry and gurgled.
"Never mind, Celia Jane," consoled Nora. "He'll be in the family, anyway."
Celia Jane was greatly cheered by that consolation and brightened visibly, much to Jerry's relief. She kissed him good-by, throwing both arms tightly about his neck in her impetuous fashion.
It was with a sad and yet singing heart that Jerry followed his father and mother out to Sultana,—sad at leaving behind all that had made his life and his world the past three years, and singing at the thought of the new world and the new life he was about to enter into, with a father and mother of his very own, a circus twice a day, every day in the week but Sunday, and elephants to ride upon.
Elephants to ride upon
Back Facing
Transcriber's Note: All punctuation normalized.