JERRY LEARNS THAT O-U-T SPELLS OUT
The first and, as it turned out, the last performance of their circus
took place that afternoon. Jerry felt a thrill of expectancy as they
began to don their costumes. Once he thought he almost heard again that
low, cheerful strumming that had seemed to beat upon his ears when he
first saw the poster of the elephant jumping the fence. He said nothing
about it and soon lost all recollection of the rollicking strains in the
anticipation of the circus joys that he was about to behold.
Chris and Danny got into their costumes in the woodshed while Celia Jane
went into the house and put on her white dress, the one she wore on
Sundays. Mrs. Mullarkey had decided that Nora didn't need any special
costume to be a rope-walker and that all Jerry needed to be a trained
seal was a sort of apron made out of a gunny sack to protect his clothes
while he crawled about on his stomach. He did not put this on at once
but watched Danny getting into the skin of the elephant, wishing with
all his heart that he might be the elephant, even if its tail was big
and flat instead of being small like a rope.
It might have proved a mirth-provoking elephant to others had there been
others present to see it, but to Jerry's eager imagination there was
nothing laughable about it. The green wrapper hung most loosely about
Danny's small, slim figure, great folds almost touching the ground,
while the brown trunk and the blue, beaver-like tail waggled and wiggled
about until they met between the front and hind legs of the elephant.
There was something about that awkward elephant that made Jerry feel all
friendly inside and struck the chord of envy in his heart. He was not at
all inclined to laugh when the cap with the very floppy
palm-leaf-fan-ears attached fell off, as Danny started to gallop around
the woodshed on all fours to see if the costume was all right.
Celia Jane now came dancing out of the house in her white frock, her
hair loose and flowing for the pony's mane, while pinned to the back of
her dress, at the waist line, was her mother's switch to represent the
pony's tail. The strands of gray in the black hair did not match with
the brown of the pony's mane, but that presented no difficulties to the
imagination of the circus performers.
"Come on!" Celia Jane called. "Let's play circus. I'm all ready."
"Wait a minute, can't you?" complained Danny. "I guess I'm the head of
this circus. I've got the biggest part and I ain't quite ready. Just
hold your horses."
"Whoa!" cried Celia Jane. "I'm just one pony. Get up!" She flapped her
side with one hand, as though urging a horse to quicken his pace, and
galloped out back of the woodshed where the circus "tent" had been set
up and began prancing and dancing and preening about. Jerry was torn
between desire to watch her graceful whirling and pirouetting and to
keep fascinated eyes on the green elephant. He just had to stay and see
if the elephant's ears fell off again. But Danny was equal to the
occasion and tied the cap on with a piece of string.
"Celia Jane, you just come back here," he called. "I guess the elephant
has to enter the circus ahead of the horse. Horses always get scared of
el'funts unless they're behind where they can see them. How do you
expect us to parade if you're there already?"
"All right," replied Celia Jane and came prancing back into the
woodshed, "but hurry."
"I'll be first," said Danny, "an--"
"An' I'll be second!" cried Chris.
"I'm third!" Nora and Celia Jane exclaimed together.
Jerry said nothing. He knew where his place would be,--the very tail end
of the parade.
"Boom!" sang out Danny and again, "Boom!"
"What's that for?" asked Chris.
"It's the music so that the people will know the circus is about to
begin," replied Danny. "They always have music for the parade an'
everything. Darn Darner said so."
"Let's sing then," suggested Nora.
"Sing what?" queried Danny crossly, seeing a threat to diminish his
importance in the circus.
"We might sing 'Heigho, the cherry-o,'" said Celia Jane.
"'I Went to the Animal Fair' will be much more appropriate," Nora
suggested.
"All right, sing," consented Danny, "but the crowd's gettin' restless; I
can hear them stampin' and whistlin'!"
"I'll start it," said Nora. "All ready."
Thus the parade started and entered the main circus tent, which
consisted of a pole in the center, with no canvas at all, to the strain
of,
I went to the animal fair;
The birds and the beasts were there;
The little raccoon, by the light of the moon,
Was combing his auburn hair.
The monkey he got drunk,
Ran up the elephant's trunk,
The elephant sneezed and fell on his knees
And what became of the monkey-monkey-monk?
Jerry tried to sing, too, but he had a very hard time, for he couldn't
crawl as fast as the others walked and the carpet-rag balloon wouldn't
stay balanced on his nose but kept rolling off to the ground. The rest
of the parade was halfway around the ring (marked by a circle of sawdust
which Danny had made after sawing wood energetically for half a day to
get enough sawdust) when the trained seal had just reached the main
entrance.
"Run and catch up with the parade," came Danny's voice through the
circus music. "We can't have the parade split in two that way."
The trained seal jumped up on his hind feet carrying the balloon under a
forefoot, and ran until he caught up with Celia Jane; then he plumped
down on his stomach again.
Jerry was very hot and flushed and the muscles of his back and neck
ached. He tried desperately to balance the ball of carpet rags on his
nose, but it kept rolling off, and Jerry had to scramble after it and
the parade was soon away ahead again. In desperation, he held the
balloon on his nose with one hand and tried to creep ahead with but one
arm and his legs as motive power. His progress was slower than ever.
He could see Danny--or, rather, the elephant--stalking majestically
ahead to the strains of "I Went to the Animal Fair," his trunk and his
tail wobbling about until they met under his body, and the palm-leaf
ears flopping with every step. Jerry felt hurt and out of sorts as he
panted from the exertion of trying to crawl on one arm. He had suggested
playing circus and he ought to have been allowed to play the part of the
elephant. There was no fun in being a trained seal balancing a balloon
on its nose, as there was in being a green elephant with floppy ears and
wobbly tail and trunk. It would serve that greedy Danny just right if he
should refuse to play in his old circus.
Jerry saw that he was again falling far in the rear and tried to
scramble on faster. Then, of course, the balloon fell off and Jerry was
almost in tears as he jumped after it.
Then the music of the parade came to a sudden end. The rest of the
performers were at the main entrance, having marched clear around the
ring while Jerry had not covered much more than half the distance.
"Can't you hurry any?" asked Danny. "You're spoilin' the circus all the
time, 'way behind like that."
"I can't crawl as fast as you can walk," answered Jerry, in a voice that
threatened to break into a sob.
"I guess a trained seal had orter crawl as fast as a man can walk,"
said Danny, "or how could they have them in circuses?"
"I'm comin' as fast as I can," returned Jerry. "I wish you'd just try
bein' a trained seal for a time and see how fast you can crawl on your
stummick." Jerry rose to his hands and knees, holding the ball of carpet
rags in his teeth, and progressed much faster.
"Who ever heard of a trained seal carryin' a balloon in his teeth?"
Danny protested. "I guess his teeth would go through the balloon and let
all the air out."
"Let's not have no trained seal," pleaded Jerry. "It ain't no fun."
"We got to have a trained seal," replied Danny.
"You be it then," suggested Jerry, "an' let me be the el'funt. You said
I could part of the time."
"I'm going to be the el'funt," proclaimed Danny. "The circus ain't even
begun yet."
"I won't be a trained seal, so I won't," said Jerry, at last catching up
with the parade. "The balloon won't stay on my nose and my neck hurts
and I've cut my hand on a piece of glass or a splinter or something
till it bleeds." He held up one hand with a little trickle of blood on
it. "I want to be something else. I won't play if I've got to be a
trained seal any more."
"All right," Danny acquiesced, after a moment's thought, "you can be the
audience. We need an audience to clap their hands and holler so's we'll
know the crowd likes us and we're doin' all right. This circus can get
along without no trained seal."
"I don't want to be the audience," replied Jerry dismally, seeing that,
as the audience, he would have nothing to do with the circus.
Nora now put in a word. "Let's count out," she said, "and the one who's
counted out will be the audience."
"I guess not," replied Danny emphatically, but after Celia Jane had
whispered something in his ear, he considered a moment, looked at Jerry
and then whispered something to Nora.
Nora looked at Jerry and counted on her fingers rapidly. Then she
counted on her fingers again, after a quick glance at Danny. She nodded
to Danny, who said:
"All right, whoever's counted out will be the audience. You count out,
Nora." Starting with Danny and pointing to a child in rotation with each
word, Nora chanted and counted:
"'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
All good children go to heaven.
O-u-t spells out.'"
Her finger was pointing at Jerry.
"Jerry's out!" cried Celia Jane, skipping about. "He's the audience!"
"I won't be no audience," said Jerry.
"You'll have to be," asserted Danny, "you was counted out."
"I won't be! I won't play!" cried Jerry. He threw down his carpet-rag
balloon, took off the gunny-sack apron, tossed it on top of the balloon
and ran to the house.
"Cry baby!" shouted Danny after him, but Jerry did not even wait to
refute that charge, for he knew he was in danger of proving it if he
remained out there a moment longer.
Jerry felt the hot tears start to come as the screen door slammed after
him. He dashed them angrily out of his eyes and ran up the stairs to the
room he shared with Danny and Chris. If Mother 'Larkey had been at home
and not away sewing for Mrs. Moran, he would have gone to her in his
bitter disappointment, sure of finding comfort in her arms as he had so
many times.
It was not fair for Danny to take the part of the elephant away from him
and not even let him play it for a teeny little while, as he had
promised he would. For two cents he would run away as he had from the
man with the--the scarred face. He looked quickly around, half-fearful,
as always, that _that_ man might have learned where he was and be
lurking around the corner ready to pounce upon him. The room was empty
and he took a long breath. He would run away if it weren't for Mother
'Larkey and for little Kathleen who always cried when he even said
anything about running away. He heard the screen door slam shut after a
time and Nora's gentle footsteps coming up the stairway. He turned his
back to the door.
"Jerry," pleaded Nora's coaxing voice, "come on out and play. Danny
didn't mean anything."
Jerry did not answer. He did not even look around.
"Danny wants you to play with us," continued Nora. "Won't you?"
"No," Jerry replied at length.
"Why won't you?"
"He didn't play fair."
"I'll count over again, Jerry, so's I'll be the--" The voice stopped and
then continued chokily, "--the audience."
Jerry knew what it cost her to say that, but he hardened his heart. "I
don't want to play no more," he said.
"Please do, Jerry. I'm sorry I didn't play fair, Jerry."
"I won't," pouted Jerry. "He said I could be the el'funt some of the
time."
"Mebbe he'll let you after while, after he's tired of playin' it,"
suggested Nora, without any great fervor of conviction in her voice.
"I'll ask him to."
With that Nora left the room. He wondered if she could persuade Danny to
let him be the elephant part of the time. He might play then, if Danny
coaxed him to.
He heard the screen slam after Nora and waited, listening for it to go
slam-bang much louder. That would mean that Danny was coming to let him
play elephant. Danny always let the door go shut slam-bang. He waited a
long time and then he heard the shouting of the children. They were
playing circus without him! Danny wouldn't let him be the elephant. Very
well, if they didn't want him around and wouldn't let him play with
them, he would run away. Danny would be sorry then. Perhaps he would be
killed on a railway track or something and Danny would cry over his dead
body, he'd be so sorry he didn't let him be the elephant.
That thought comforted him and he began gathering up the things he
wanted to take with him. There was the fur cap that Mother 'Larkey had
made for him out of an old muff of hers, the winter before. He couldn't
leave that behind, nor yet the overcoat which she had made for him out
of an old coat of her husband's just after Mr. Mullarkey had died. The
other things he didn't care much about. Yes, after all, he would take
the ragged, fuzzy cloth dog that Kathleen had insisted on giving him.
The dog had lost an ear, a forepaw and one eye; still he cherished it
because Kathleen had given it to him of her own free will, something
that Danny nor Chris nor Celia Jane nor even Nora had ever done.
He would wear the cap and overcoat, even if it was summer; then he
wouldn't get so tired carrying them. He put on the fur cap, pulling it
well down over his ears, and slipped into the overcoat. Slowly he took
up the woolly dog and started down the stairs. Then he remembered the
red mittens which a lady had brought him at Christmas, and returned to
get them. He put them on carefully, smoothing them over his hands, and
then went downstairs and out by the front door, prepared for any kind of
weather.
He was going to run away again, as he had from that man with the scarred
face. He heard the children shouting at their play and decided he would
first watch them a minute and perhaps let Danny know what he had driven
him into doing. He went down the alley which led past the woodshed,
behind which the circus performance was going on, and stopped to watch
with his face wedged between two pickets of the fence.
Nora was walking the rope slowly. She was doing it very well as long as
she kept one end of the balancing pole on the ground, but when she got
halfway across the rope, the end of the pole was so far behind that she
couldn't steady herself with it. She tried to drag it up even with her
and in so doing lost her balance and had to jump to the ground. As she
straightened up, she saw Jerry's face between the palings.
"There's Jerry!" she called to Danny.
"Thought you would play, after all," Danny remarked.
"I'm not," said Jerry.
"He's got his cap on!" laughed Celia Jane. "What've you got your cap on
for, Jerry?"
"And your overcoat?" said Nora.
"And your mittens?" chimed in Chris. "You ain't cold, are you?"
"I'm running away," Jerry responded, addressing no one in particular. He
tried to say it indifferently as though it were a matter of everyday
occurrence, this running away, but in spite of himself a note of pride
crept into his voice. None of them had ever run away.
"Running away!" gasped Celia Jane in an awed voice.
"Oh, Jerry, don't!" pleaded Nora.
Danny stared at him in open-mouthed amazement.
"I'm running away," Jerry repeated and sat down on the ground by the
fence where he had an unobstructed view of the circus.