"So you told about finding it--"

"No, I didn't," interrupted Jerry, "but Kathleen was all out of cough
medicine and Mother 'Larkey didn't have no money."

"I see. Then you told what--"

"No, I just got the bottle and brought it here."

Mr. Barton whistled.

"Jerry, you're some boy, and there's my hand on it."

Jerry felt himself flushing as he took the proffered hand which shook
his warmly.

"Grit!" exclaimed Mr. Barton. "Pure grit. That's what I call it, if
anybody should ask you. And you won't get to see the circus at all."

"I guess Kathleen's cough is more important than the circus," replied
Jerry. "Summer coughs are bad for babies."

"You're right there, but I'm mighty sorry you can't go. I know how my
two boys will feel if they have to stay away."

He rang up the forty-five cents and returned a nickel to Jerry.

"There, I guess you've earned the right to spend the nickel on
yourself."