“That boy has something on his mind more than merely being left behind by the circus,” said the doctor to the nurse one day. “If he doesn’t get quieter he’ll have a relapse, and that will be bad.” “I’ll see if I can’t find out what it is,” the nurse said. None of the circus people had told Jack’s story. The day after this Jack asked for something to read, and while the nurse went to get him a book she handed him a newspaper, published in a town not far from where Jack lived. He looked at it idly hoping he might see some item about the circus, but the show had evidently passed farther on. Then, as he turned the pages, he caught sight of an item that gave him a sudden start. For, staring at him, in black type on the white page, was this notice, dated from Westville, where he lived: “INFORMATION WANTED concerning Jack Allen, supposed to be with a traveling circus. He left his home with Professor Klopper under a misapprehension. Everything is all right. If he sees this will he please communicate at once with the undersigned? A reward will be paid for suitable information of the whereabouts of the boy. “SYLVESTER ALLEN.” “It’s my father! My father! He’s back from China!” cried Jack. “Hurrah! Dad’s back! Hurry, some one! Get me a pen and paper. I’ll write at once! No, I’ll telegraph! Whoop! Now I’m all right!” The nurse came running back into the room. “What is it?” she asked. “What has happened? You must not excite yourself. You will have a relapse.” “I don’t care if I do,” cried Jack. “My father and mother are back from their trip around the world. They’re back from China. I must telegraph them at once.” “Here, drink this. It will quiet you,” said the nurse, thinking Jack was out of his mind. “I don’t want to be quiet! I want to yell and sing! Dad’s home! So’s mother! I’m all right now!” It took him some time to convince the nurse that he knew what he was talking about, but when he had showed her the notice in the paper, and had told his story, she brought him a telegraph blank, and the happy boy sent a long message to his father. How anxiously he waited for the answer! At last it came: “DEAR JACK: We will be with you as soon as possible. Father and mother. The professor is coming, too.” “I don’t know that I want to see the professor,” mused Jack, “but I guess it must be all right, or dad wouldn’t bring him.” Three hours later Jack was being clasped in his mother’s arms, while Mr. Allen, with moisture in his eyes, was holding his son’s hand. “My poor boy!” said his mother. “To think of you being a clown in a circus!” “It was bully fun, while it lasted,” said Jack enthusiastically. “But I guess I’ve had enough of it. But what happened to you? Why didn’t you write?”