As they sewed they talked, and the subject that came up oftenest was the circus. How Johnny longed to go! After awhile a hope whispered to him, that maybe he could pay his debt to Jode in time to earn enough money to go himself. Although Aunt Jane sorted the rags so that most of the short ones fell to her lot, and the long ones to Johnny's, and contributed many a yard on the sly, Jode's foot was well before Johnny proudly paid over the two dimes, and only a long, red scar remained, to remind Jode of his disobedience and punishment. "Wisht I was goin', too," sighed Johnny, when the last pound was weighed and delivered. Then, regardless of ceremony, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and started home on the run. He did not go all the way. Aunt Jane spied him when she went to the barn for eggs. He was lying on the hay with his face in his arms. She stood and looked at him a moment, thinking what an honest little heart it was, beating under the patched, faded jacket,--thinking of his drunken father and his miserable home,--of how much he wanted to go with the other boys, and how keenly he felt his poverty. Then she took the eggs to the house, and tying her sunbonnet tighter, started resolutely down the lane to the big road in the direction of Johnny's home. The hand under her gingham apron gripped firmly an old leather purse. That evening as Jode sat in the twilight, just inside the door, listening to the frogs croaking in the meadow-pond, a dusky little figure came running down the path. It was Johnny. "Hi! Jode," he cried, "I'm a-goin', too! I'm a-goin', too! I'm too glad to hold still. The money jest rained down like the manna on ole Moses! I don't know who left it, but it was left at our house, and it was left fer me!" Then, throwing himself on the ground, he turned one somersault after another down the path into the dewy darkness of the warm April night. JIMMY'S ERRAND "WELL, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful boy I ever saw!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, as she emptied the contents of a large market-basket upon the kitchen table. "This makes the second time he's been to town and back this week, and he's forgotten that soda both times. Jimmy!" she called out to a freckle-faced boy who was making the old dog walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet, "climb up to the top pantry shelf and see if there's any spice left in those tin boxes." "What are you going to make, ma?" languidly inquired a pale girl who sat by the stove shaking with a chill. "Why, I intended to make a cake for the new preacher's donation-party," answered Mrs. Perkins. "That's what the committee asked for--marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find anything, Jimmy?" "No'm. They're all empty." The boy jumped down and went back to the patient old dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow and trundled around on its clumsy fore paws. "What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, in despair. "There's not a speck of spice or soda in the house."