“It was very naughty of her!” said the clown.  “And Danny should be spoken to.”

“Will you speak to him?” asked Jerry.  “Then mebbe he’ll give me my ticket back.”

“I don’t know Danny,” replied the clown, “but I’ll probably think up a way to get you into the circus even if you don’t have a ticket.”

“Oh, can you?” cried Jerry excitedly.  He got to his feet and in his eagerness put an arm over Whiteface’s shoulder.

“I’m sure I can if I think very hard,” returned the clown.

“You will think very hard, won’t you?  Please.”

“Oh, awfully hard,” replied Whiteface.  “But don’t you worry.  The secret of laughter made your grief slink away for good.  But I must know your name.  It will help me to think.”

“Jerry Elbow,” replied Jerry promptly.

“Well, Jerry Elbow,” said the clown, “now I’ll think.  You may watch me think, but don’t say anything, as I might get to thinking your thoughts, and if our thoughts get crossed there’s no telling what would happen.”

“I won’t,” Jerry promised.

The clown put his chin in his hand, palm out so that his thumb and forefinger half encircled his face, and began slowly rolling his head from side to side.  Then with the forefinger of his other hand he tapped the top of his head slowly several times.

“Think!” he commanded his own head.  “Here’s a very small boy that you can make very happy.  Think of a way to do it.  Think!”

Jerry sat down again and watched him eagerly, holding on to himself to keep from speaking and getting their thoughts mixed up.

Every emotion pictured on the clown’s mobile face was reflected on Jerry’s.  When the clown brightened as though he felt the thought coming that would provide a means for getting Jerry into the circus, Jerry’s face likewise brightened.  But when Whiteface slumped down into the most discouraged attitude in the world, Jerry knew that that idea wouldn’t do and the corners of his own mouth drooped and, unconsciously, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand just as the clown did and despair made him huddle down in a heap.

All of a sudden the clown made a clicking noise with his tongue and his figure began to straighten up and his face to lighten until it was all smiles.  Jerry bounded to his feet.  He forgot all about Whiteface’s caution not to speak and cried: 

“Have you got it?  Did the thought come?”

“Yes!” cried the clown.  “I’ll buy you a ticket!”

“Will you?” exclaimed Jerry. “Will you?”

“Yes, here’s the money,” and Whiteface reached for his pocket.  His hand kept sliding down his loose, blue-spotted, white costume, but did not enter into any pocket.

“Can’t you find your pocket?” asked Jerry fearfully.

“I had one this morning,” replied the clown solemnly, “and there was money in it—­enough to buy you a ticket to the circus and more, but now I don’t seem to be able to find it.  You don’t see a pocket on me, do you, Jerry Elbow?”