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 the stove and clattered pots and pans as she put things on to reheat.

His father's clear blue eyes were on Jerry. "After dinner," he said, "you and I will have a little talk."

Jerry did not look forward to that talk, yet it took more than dread to spoil his appetite. His mother said that the onions and asparagus were not as good as when they had been freshly cooked more than two hours ago. But they tasted fine to Jerry. Nor did he mind that the pot roast and rolls were reheated. He slathered butter on three rolls and would have eaten a fourth if he had not seen the necessity of saving room for a piece of apple pie.

Only Andy bothered Jerry with questions while he was eating. "Where did you go?" he asked.

"To the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, if you must know," said Jerry. "I walked up but I rode down in the Monument."

"Is that all you did?" asked Andy.

"I just walked around."

"Walking around gave you a good appetite," said Mr. Martin, as he cut another slice of pot roast for Jerry's plate. "A good thing you don't walk around five or six hours every day or I might not be able to pay the grocery bill."

Jerry winced. He knew his father meant paying cash for groceries, not a grocery bill. His father did not have bills—never charged things. Looking at his father's firm mouth and chin, Jerry wondered how he could have expected to win his father over to having a charge account. Parents were the way they were and stayed that way. Especially his father. It would take much more than half a pound of candy to make him change his mind about charge accounts, Jerry now fully realized.

Mr. Martin said he and Jerry would have their talk down in the recreation room. Jerry noticed his mother and Cathy looked worried. Maybe they expected his father to give him a beating. Jerry was a little worried about that prospect himself.

Jerry saw Pedro watching them as he and his father sat down on the sofa.

"Has Pedro talked any more?" Jerry asked.

"Stop gawking at that parrot and pay attention to me," said Jerry's father.

"Yes, sir."

"You had your mother worried sick."

Jerry said he was sorry.

"Did you stay out so long on purpose to worry her?"

Jerry said that had not been the reason at all. He confessed that he had intended to run away to Florida but had changed his mind and come home.

Mr. Martin's sternness softened. "A good many boys run away from home," he said. "The luckiest ones are those who come back before they have run too far. It was this charge account business you were running away from, wasn't it?"

"Partly." Jerry could not tell his father that his mother's lack of belief in his honesty had had more to do with his running away. Jerry did not want to remember how his mother had looked at him. He hoped never to bring an expression like that to her face again.

"The worst thing about your scheme for the charge account was that you were handling money that belonged to somebody else without his permission," said Jerry's father.

"You mean Mr. Bartlett. It was his money but I don't see why—"

"It was not then Mr. Bartlett's money but mine. You contracted a debt in my name and withheld money that had been entrusted to you."

The way his father put it made Jerry feel that he had done something nearly bad enough for him to be put in jail.

"I was just trying to prove that it pays to have a charge account at Bartlett's," said Jerry.

"You knew very well that I don't have charge accounts or intend to have them."

"What's the sin about charging things?"

"No sin, of course. I didn't say it was. It's a person's right to charge anything he wants to. And my right to pay cash, since I prefer to do business that way."

"I guess that wasn't a good idea of mine," said Jerry.

"Mr. Bartlett is a little to blame for what you did," said Mr. Martin. "I went to his store and told him in no uncertain terms that I did not think it fair for a storekeeper to reward credit customers and do nothing for even better cash customers."

"So is he going to stop giving candy to people when they pay their bills?"

"No. He says he's sentimental about that old family custom. But he saw the justice of my argument. He has decided to give the equivalent of a two per cent discount in produce to any customer whose cash receipts for a month are more than fifty dollars."

"What does that mean—in produce?"

"Well, it could be a bag of potatoes or a box of candy. That's entirely up to your mother."

"Not bad. Not bad at all," said Jerry.

"You can wipe that self-satisfied expression right off your face, young man," said Jerry's father. "Taking things in your own hands and deciding what I should do with my money was wrong and you know it. You do know it, don't you?"

Jerry said he could see now that it had not been the right thing to do.

"When I think of all the time and effort you put in for half a pound of candy—well, I can only hope that someday you'll work as hard at something useful."

Jerry wished his father would hurry up and say what his punishment was to be.

"Considering that there are extenuating circumstances, I am letting you off easy," said his father. "No baseball games for you for the rest of the season. Either at the ball park or on television."

"Not even the World Series on television?"

"Not even the World Series."

The punishment did not seem light to Jerry. He was crushed. "Can't I even play baseball?"

Jerry's father considered the question. "Suppose we confine the restriction to looking at professional baseball."

Jerry sighed in relief. That was not quite as bad. "What are you going to do with that box of candy?" he dared ask.

"I suppose you expected to gorge yourself on it."

"I was going to pass it around," said Jerry. "And take a few pieces over to the Bullfinches. He's been awfully nice to me."

"As long as you have it, you may as well pass the candy around," said Mr. Martin. "But remember. Don't you ever do such a deceitful thing again, Jerry Martin."

"I won't. Honest."

In the cage by the window, the big green parrot flapped his wings.

"Sometimes he does that when he's getting ready to talk," said Jerry.

The parrot remarked something in Spanish which Jerry did not understand. Then he said "Jerry" quite clearly. "Jerry!" he called in his loud, hoarse voice. "Jerry!"

The subdued look on Jerry's face was replaced by a broad smile. "I'm the first one in this family he's called by name," he said to his father.

"It's a good name," said Mr. Martin. "Your Grandfather Martin's name. He made it a name to be proud of. See that you keep it that way."

Jerry said he certainly would try. He really meant to. He and his father went back upstairs together. Weary though he was, Jerry felt the relief of having that charge account business off his shoulders. In spite of being deprived of his beloved ball games, he felt more lighthearted than he had for weeks. First, he would pass the candy box to Andy and then to the rest of the family. Then, before taking some over to the Bullfinches', he would take a green mint down to Pedro.

"If he doesn't like it, I'll eat it myself," thought Jerry.