their disappointment.

So Mother 'Larkey had not yet been able to make both ends meet--those
troublesome, refractory ends that made her life a continual round of
hard work--and there were no fifty-cent pieces for the children to buy
tickets with to see the elephant jump the fence. Jerry hugged himself
just to feel the half-dollar in his blouse pocket and a glow of
exultation ran over his body at the thought that he was going to get to
see the circus.

Mrs. Mullarkey, looking tired and worn, was ripping apart the dress for
Mrs. Green that she had just finished at noon. Baby Kathleen sat at her
feet, playing with the old rag doll that had once been Nora's and was
now claimed by Celia Jane.

Jerry entered the room slowly and took a seat on the chair without a
back. He said nothing at all and finally Mother 'Larkey looked up at
him.

"Why don't you ask for fifty cents, too?" she inquired. "Don't you want
to see the circus?"

"Yes'm," replied Jerry, "but I ain't got no mother."

"What difference does that make?" she asked, in a voice sharper than she
was accustomed to use in speaking to Jerry. "Haven't I done everything a
mother could--"

"Yes'm," Jerry interrupted hastily, for he didn't want her to think he
thought _that_. "But it said to ask your _mother_ for fifty cents and I