“It was real excitin’ when I pulled the string, and the basket went up. You’d ought to ’ve been there, Mrs. Maxwell. You’d have laughed fit to split––”
“Nicholas Burke, you must stop talkin’ like that, or I’ll send you home,” reproved Mrs. Burke, looking severely at her son, and with deprecating side-glances at his audience.
“Excuse me, ma. It will be all over in a minute. But really, you’d have laughed like sin—I mean you’d have just laughed yourself sick. Tooley was awful nervous when the basket went up. For a minute he crouched and stood still, scared stiff at the three kids, all yellin’ like mad; then he ducked his head and bolted off the circle through my quarter and flew up on a beam. I thought the kids would bust.” 180
Mrs. Burke sighed heavily.
“Well, burst, then. But while they were laughin’ I raked in the cash. You see I just had to. I won it for fair. I’d kept quiet, and that’s why Tooley come across my quarter.”
Mrs. Maxwell was sorting over her music, while Maxwell’s face was hidden behind a paper. Mrs. Burke was silent through despair. Nickey glanced furtively at his hearers for a moment and then continued:
“Yes, the kids was tickled; but they got awful quiet when I told them to fork over another cent apiece for the jack-pot.”
“What in the name of conscience is a jack-pot?” Hepsey asked.
Donald laughed and Nickey continued:
“A jack-pot’s a jack-pot; there isn’t no other name that I ever heard of. We caught Tooley and stuck him under the basket, and made him do it all over again. You see, every time when Tooley got loose, the kids all leant forward and yelled like mad; but I just kept my mouth shut, and leaned way back out of the way so that Tooley’d run out through my quarter. So I won most all the time.”