"Did you ever see a circus, Mother?"

"Yes, once. Dan took me to see one in the city right after we were
married. If he was living, he would find a way to take you all and him
liking the fun and the noise and the crowd and all."

"Some day I'll be big enough to earn lots of money and take us all to
the circus," asserted Danny. "And Jerry, too."

"Sure and you will," his mother said. "And now, if you children will
pick me some gooseberries, I'll make you a gooseberry pie for supper."

Jerry did not join the rest in the scamper for cups and a pan nor follow
them out into the back yard. He patted Kathleen's head and then went
into the kitchen when he had heard the screen door slam and knew the
Mullarkey children were all out of the house. He took down a bottle from
the shelf by the table and slipped quietly out to the street.

When he was out of sight of the house he looked to see if the
half-dollar were still in his pocket. The sight of it made him recall
vividly all the joys that he would miss if he didn't get to see the
circus. He took the coin out of his pocket and looked at it and the
longer he looked the slower grew his pace. Then he thought of Kathleen
and the summer cough that Mother 'Larkey said was bad for babies, and
his lips suddenly closed in a firm, straight line. He clutched the
half-dollar tightly in one hand, the bottle in the other, and set out as
fast as his legs would carry him. He did not dare waste a moment for
fear the temptation to change his mind would prove too great to be
resisted.