“It would be nice,” said Dan, “if you could go to one of the schools around here this winter.”
“Yes; I thought of that,” answered Jerry, “but I couldn’t do it, I guess; leastways, not if I was to make any money. And I got to have money,” he added doggedly.
Dan looked inquiringly at Nelson and Bob, but each shook his head, counseling silence as to their conspiracy.
“Does the circus make much money?” asked Tom.
“I guess so,” Jerry replied. “Sometimes we don’t have very big crowds, and then again sometimes we have to pack ’em into the tent like oats in a grain bin. A good deal depends on the weather, they say. They’re sort of lookin’ for a big crowd this afternoon an’ a slim one to-night. This ain’t a very good show place, Mr. Foley says, but it’s better to make a little here than to miss a performance, like we’d have to do if we went right on to Patchogue.”
Jerry put his hand in his pocket and brought out four soiled oblongs of red pasteboard.
“I thought maybe you fellers would like to go,” he said, handing the admission tickets to Dan. “Those ain’t for reserved seats, but the reserves ain’t much better’n the others, far’s I can see.”
“That’s awfully kind of you,” said Dan, and the others echoed his sentiment.
“Can you get all the tickets you want?” asked Nelson.
“N-no,” answered Jerry; “they don’t give many away.”