“Those tickets are not good to the side show,” he said.  “They admit you to the main tent.”

Stunned at this disaster, Jerry and Chris slunk under the ropes at the entrance and rejoined Danny and Nora and Celia Jane.  They stood in silence as the crowd surged around the ticket seller for the side show and watched the people stream through the door.  Never had the lack of “twenty-five cents, only a quarter of a dollar”, meant so much to any small boy as it meant to Jerry and Chris. Some of the people were already going into the main tent, passing up the glories of the side show.  Jerry wondered if they, too, didn’t have the necessary quarter of a dollar.

“It would be just grand to see all them freaks,” sighed Celia Jane.  “If I could only see just half the circus.”

Jerry, his ticket still in his hand, looked up and saw Danny glancing covetously at it.

“What’ll you take for your ticket?” he asked eagerly.  “I’ll give you anything of mine you want.”

“I won’t trade,” replied Jerry, stuffing the ticket into his blouse pocket.  “I’m a-goin’ to see the circus.”

Danny made the same proposition to Chris but Chris also refused.  There was nothing of Danny’s that could compensate Jerry or Chris for missing the circus, especially when they were right there on the ground with their tickets in their hands.

After the crowd had disappeared—­part into the side show, part into the main tent, some to their homes and some to wander about the grounds—­Jerry and Chris were debating whether they should go into the big tent at once or wait until time for the main performance, when they observed Danny, who had edged away from them, talking in a low voice to Celia Jane.  From the motion of Celia Jane’s head and the entreating position of Danny’s hands, they knew she was refusing some request of his.

If they had not just then become absorbed in watching some circus employee leading two big, fat, white horses out of a tent they would have seen Celia Jane’s negative shakes of the head become weaker as Danny’s attitude became more and more commanding, and all that occurred afterward might never have happened.  But they didn’t look around.

When the horses had disappeared, Jerry spoke: 

“They might start early,” he said.  “Let’s go in now, Chris.”

“All right, let’s,” Chris replied.

They turned to tell the other Mullarkey children good-by and saw that Celia Jane was crying.  Her shoulders shook and she seemed to be in the utmost despair.

“What’s the matter with Celia Jane?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know,” said Nora.  “What ails her, Danny?”

“I don’t know,” Danny asserted quickly.  “What’re you cryin’ for, Celia Jane?”

“I want to see the circus,” sobbed Celia Jane.  She raised her face and there were tears running down it.

“You ain’t got no ticket, have you?” asked Danny.  “Nor fifty cents?”