"Have you a handkerchief?" he asked.

The boy drew from an inner pocket what had once been a red bandanna
handkerchief of the old style, but alas! it was sadly soiled, it was
worn beyond repair and crumpled beyond belief.

"'Taint very clean," he said, apologetically. "You can't keep a
han'kerchy very clean a-workin' in the breaker, it's so dusty here."

"Oh! it's good enough," replied the man, noticing the boy's
embarrassment, and trying to reassure him, "it's plenty good enough,
but it's red you see, and red won't do. Here, I have a white one. This
is just the thing," he added, tearing his own handkerchief into strips
and binding them carefully about the wounded hand. "There!" giving the
bandage a final adjustment; "that will be better for it. Now, then,
you're off to the circus; good-by."

The lad took a step or two forward, hesitated a moment, and then
turned back. The breaker boss and the screen-room boss were already
gone and he was alone with Mr. Burnham.

"Would it make any dif'rence to you," he asked, holding up the silver
coin, "if I spent this money for sumpthin' else, an' didn't go to the
circus with it?"

"Why, no!" said the man, wonderingly, "I suppose not; but I thought
you boys would rather spend your money at the circus than to spend it
in almost any other way."

"Oh! I'd like to go well enough. I al'ays did like a circus, an' I