"Have you got it? Did the thought come?"

"Yes!" cried the clown. "I'll buy you a ticket!"

"Will you?" exclaimed Jerry. "_Will_ you?"

"Yes, here's the money," and Whiteface reached for his pocket. His hand
kept sliding down his loose, blue-spotted, white costume, but did not
enter into any pocket.

"Can't you find your pocket?" asked Jerry fearfully.

"I had one this morning," replied the clown solemnly, "and there was
money in it--enough to buy you a ticket to the circus and more, but now
I don't seem to be able to find it. You don't see a pocket on me, do
you, Jerry Elbow?"

Jerry went close and walked all about the clown. There was not a sign of
a pocket and he began to feel dreadfully disappointed.

"There ain't no pocket," he said sorrowfully.

"Then there must be some pocket. If there ain't no pocket, there must be
a pocket somewhere. If you had said there is no pocket it would be so.
Look again."

Jerry looked carefully, more and more sorrowfully.

"There _is_ no pocket," he said at last in a voice that was trembly, all
ready to cry.