om his mother--had
been lost. A Girl Scout had taken him to a place where lost children
waited to be claimed. A lady played games with them while they waited,
but a few of the children had cried. Jerry had not cried. He somehow
felt more like crying now. And even more lost.

Well, he must be on his way. He would take the elevator down, for he
felt his legs would not last for all of those steps going down. Yet he
was reluctant to leave the top of the Monument. Each window gave a
picture postcard view of the city he was leaving. It was up here that
he was really saying good-by to Washington, D. C.

Why did he have to think just then of the honesty of Lincoln? Or of
how Washington had stayed with his soldiers through the hardships of
the winter at Valley Forge? They were not men who had run away from
the hard things of life. Jerry tried to close his mind against
thoughts of Lincoln and Washington. They were dead and gone and had
nothing to do with him. It was no use. It had been a mistake, Jerry
realized now, to revisit the Memorial and the Monument. Something in
both places had pulled against his wanting to run away. Suddenly Jerry
realized that he couldn't do it. He no longer even wanted to run away.
He wanted to go home.

11

Welcome Home!

It was growing dark by the time Jerry reached home. By now his family
would know for sure that he was no thief, but Jerry knew it was
possible that his father would be angry about the charge account, in
spite of the free box of candy. For a moment Jerry hesitated outside
the door. Then he squared his shoulders and went in.

The whole family were in the kitchen. Jerry saw every eye turned
toward him--every face light up with relief.

"Hi, Jerry, where've you been?" cried Andy.

"I told you he'd come back," said Cathy.

Jerry was so grateful to Cathy for having believed in him even when
things looked bad that he thought he would never again tease her about
reading lovey-dovey books or admiring herself in mirrors.

"Oh, Jerry!" cried his mother.

Jerry read the relief and welcome in her face--the love for him. He
found that he was no longer angry with his mother. Somewhere on the
long, long walk, his anger had died. He could understand that it had
been no wonder she had believed the worst of him--getting that bill
in the mail and all.

"Got anything to eat?" he asked her.

"We were too worried to eat. None of us has had a bite of dinner."
Mrs. Martin rushed to