hat, then how could he get along without a jumping-jack
that threw up its arms and legs when you pulled the string? And
if he took the jumping-jack, then what about an iron savings bank
with a monkey on top that shook his head with thanks when you
dropped the money in? Lovely things, all of them, but David put
them from him. He did it with decision, but with a nervous haste
which told of wavering courage.

Such things were not for him. They are only for boys who are not
soldier-men. And besides, they might cost too much. If the price
went higher than five cents David would be lost, for many
precepts had been forced upon him in regard to the waste of
money, and the value people put on it, and the way they have to
work for it. So thus far the nickel had marked the very summit of
his financial transactions.

All the same, a strange wistfulness came into David's eyes when
he put aside poor jumping-jack. Such a dear of a jumping-jack he
was! You could have kissed the jolly red paint of him, and the
pretty toy bank was a thing to hug tight under your arm. That is
why the little boy's voice was such a weak and far-away voice
when he presently asked:--

"Would two five centses get him, do you think?"

"When it's your birthday," said the Doctor, "it's all right to
spend three five centses."

Here, then, was David's chance. The jumping-jack was almost his,
when his shoes squeaked a warning. Thus suddenly was he reminded
that he was a brave little soldier-man. He now saw that such a
purchase would be ridiculous. Something serviceable is what he
must have, something that Mother would like and want him to keep.
No silly toys for him! But, oh, if only the Doctor would insist a
little on the jumping-jack!

David turned reluctantly away; he choked down the queerness in
his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup.
His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face
was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor
could shake his determination.

With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all
the things, you know."

Hope kindled in David's eyes.

"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than
three five centses. Does it?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman.

No, indeed; David would not have a drum.

"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor.

"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness.

The cup was the thing for him; it would