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.