"
"You won't say nothin' to mother a-tall?" Danny weakened.
"No," Jerry assured him.
"Cross your heart, hope to die an' spit?"
"Cross my heart, hope to die an' spit," repeated Jerry, suiting the
action to the word.
"All right, you can have the ole rabbit. You'll have to feed it, though.
I wouldn't raise my finger to feed it, not if it was starvin' to death.
I'd got kinda sick of always havin' to feed it whenever I wanted to do
something else, anyway."
"All right, I'll be the audience," Jerry promised, "but the rabbit's
mine."
"Then go in the house and put away your cap an' coat an' mittens, so's
mother won't suspect nothin'. An', Chris, don't you dare ever tell, nor
you, Nora, nor you, Celia Jane. I'll get even with you if it takes to my
last livin' day if you do."
"We won't ever tell," his brother and sisters assured him.
Jerry flew back to the house, and put away his winter clothes and the
cloth dog Kathleen had given him, and then dashed out to the circus
ground and climbed upon an old barrel which Danny and Chris had turned
upside down for a seat.
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