THE CHILDREN THAT CRIED IN THE LANE


The days slipped by and none of the children played circus again. Jerry
thought of it often and would have liked to be the elephant just once,
but he never said anything. That made him dream all the more about the
real circus which was coming and wish that he could see it. He was very
careful not to put his longing into words, so he wouldn't remind Mother
'Larkey of the ends that wouldn't meet and make her feel badly. One day
she came across the old green wrapper elephant skin in the woodshed.

"Why don't you children play circus any more?" she asked Danny.

"El'funts don't look like that," he asserted, pointing disdainfully at
the discarded costume. "Their tails are small like a rope."

"Are they now?" she asked. "And how might you be after knowing that?"

"National history says so," Danny replied in a very decisive tone.

Mrs. Mullarkey gave one of those low, fleeting laughs that always made
Jerry feel so good inside and which had become so rare of late. "Yes, I
guess national history would be after telling about the elephant's tail
as long as it deals with elephants and eagles and donkeys and camels and
all."

Jerry felt there must be something funny in what Mother 'Larkey said,
because her nose went all crinkly, and he smiled in sympathy anyway,
although he didn't understand.