“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.  “It would 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.