At that little smile the clown’s silent laugh suddenly disappeared and with that funny little squeak in his mouth, which Jerry knew meant joy in spite of its being nothing but a squeak, he jumped suddenly to his feet and turned a series of handsprings around in a circle, kicking his heels in the air and ending up just where he started, directly in front of Jerry, squatting down on the ground, with elbow on knee, chin in hand, looking intently into Jerry’s eyes.

The clown’s lips were very sober in spite of the general laughableness of his face, but as he kept looking at Jerry a smile started right at the corners of his mouth and then disappeared.  That smile seemed to be waiting for encouragement, for after a time it started up again and followed the clown’s lips almost to the center of his mouth.  It didn’t get quite that far, however, but raced quickly back to the corners of his mouth, as though in disappointment, and disappeared.

Then a remarkable change came over the clown’s face.  The corners of his mouth began to droop and his eyes to close.  Jerry thought he was going to cry.  His shoulders hunched forward until the clown was the most forlorn looking object Jerry had almost ever seen.  The corners of his mouth kept going down and down until they nearly touched his chin.

Jerry kept fascinated eyes on that chalky white face with the very, very red lips.  It was the drollest expression of grief he had ever seen, and a smile began to play about his own lips.

That tentative smile on Jerry’s part brought another sudden and remarkable change over the clown’s countenance.  He began that silent laugh again and it grew and it grew until the face was all a huge grin.  Jerry found himself grinning out of pure, contagious sympathy.

Then the clown laughed harder than ever, still without making a sound, and held his sides as though he had laughed so hard that they ached.  He emitted one short, little staccato laugh and stopped suddenly, as if he were waiting to see if Jerry liked the sound before continuing with it.

Jerry did like it and laughed out loud himself.

The clown’s face was all changed at that laugh of Jerry’s and became so comically still and sorrowful that Jerry laughed harder.  Then the clown started laughing out loud, holding his sides until it became a laughing duet between them.

Jerry was happy again.  He had forgotten all about Danny’s perfidy and the tears of Celia Jane and the stolen “ticket to paradise.”

The clown’s features suddenly fell calm and he jumped to his feet and pirouetted on his heels with little graceful leaps in the air, as though he were light as a feather and going to take flight.  Jerry was sure that that was the clown’s way of rejoicing at having made him laugh.

Then the clown was suddenly sitting in front of Jerry again.  “So you’ve found the secret,” he remarked in a very human and pleasant voice.