Jerry started to get up as he replied.

"To see if she had fifty cents for Da--"

He stopped speaking and stopped getting up at the same time. A glint of
silver on the sidewalk back of Mr. Barton caught his eye. It was a
half-dollar! Jerry sank to a sitting posture and gazed in rapt wonder at
this answer to an unsaid prayer.

"You _are_ hurt!" cried Mr. Barton solicitously and stooped to help
Jerry up. "Where does it pain you?"

"It's fifty cents!" cried Jerry, his lips unsealed at last, and he
scrambled eagerly for the coin.

"Well, there's nothing very painful in that, is there?" laughed Mr.
Barton.

Jerry rose, clutching the dirty half-dollar tightly, a light of joyful
anticipation in his eyes.

"There's not much need of asking what you will spend it for," observed
the drug clerk.

"For a ticket to the circus!" cried Jerry, his eyes sparkling at the
thought of future delights.

"I guessed it the first time," said Mr. Barton. "I thought I heard
something metallic fall on the sidewalk when you ran into me, but I had
such hard work getting my breath back that I forgot all about it."