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