Jerry's Reward — Reading Companion

A Narrator Who Speaks Directly to the Reader

The narrator of Jerry's Reward frequently breaks the fourth wall, using phrases like “you might call poor” and “they surely were never so many children on one square before!” This creates a confiding, almost conspiratorial relationship with the reader. The voice is not neutral; it passes judgment on the children who exclude seven playmates, noting that “the others never thought about that.” Later, when Jerry disobeys orders to stay home, the narrator reports his reasoning in free indirect style: “No—I won't get shoved aside; I'll play a game of my own.” The effect is to align the reader with Jerry’s perspective, even when he acts recklessly. The narrator also uses exclamations and rhetorical questions to heighten suspense, as when Jerry wonders, “I wonder how many more of them there are?” This technique keeps the pace lively and personal.

Pace Shifts from Communal Play to Solo Vigil

The story’s first half moves in a leisurely, cumulative rhythm, cataloging the children’s games and the neighborhood’s layout. Sentences are long and list-like: “There were the Earlys, the Rickersons, the Bakers, the Adamses, the Mortons, and the Longs—twenty-one in all.” After the burglary plot begins, the prose tightens dramatically. In Chapter VIII, paragraphs become shorter, dominated by action verbs and interior monologue: “He kissed Peggy, who held him tight a moment, looked into his eyes lovingly, but did not protest or cry, as some wives would have done.” The convent bell tolling the hours—eight, nine, ten—marks time with increasing urgency. The climax is a flurry of short, declarative sentences: “Then suddenly the stillness of the hour was broken by the loud report of a pistol not half a square away.” This contrast between the earlier, expansive social world and the later, compressed thriller sequence is the book’s central structural device.

Dialogue and Interior Voice as Character Markers

Barnett distinguishes characters through their speech patterns and internal thoughts. Jerry’s dialogue is colloquial and determined: “Suppose there should be three of them burglars instead of two, and one of our men was to get hurt; it would be a battle with odds.” His wife Peggy speaks little, but her actions—holding him tight, looking “lovingly” without protest—are described in a way that reveals her quiet strength. The burglars are given no direct speech; they are reduced to “two feet” and “whispered words too low for him to catch.” This asymmetry keeps the focus on Jerry’s perception. The police, by contrast, are portrayed as indecisive: “The other two stopped to argue whether they had better help their comrades or return to their former hiding-place.” The narrator’s wry tone undercuts their authority. Even minor characters like Mr. Morton are defined by a single line of dialogue: “What a nice, sensible gentleman Mr. Morton is!”—a judgment delivered by two women in unison.

Because the excerpts end before the resolution, readers must watch how Barnett balances Jerry’s physical limitations against his courage. Pay attention to the recurring motif of watching and hiding—Jerry behind a blind, under steps, or peering from a window—and how the narrator’s voice shifts between sympathy and dry humor. The story’s title promises a reward, but the text leaves open whether it will be material, moral, or ironic.

That rainy afternoon, tucked under a blanket, Jerry's Reward stayed with me longest in its quiet pauses—Peggy's steady patience, the hush before danger. Afterward, restless, I found myself wandering into the woods of The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour; or, The Mystery of Rattlesnake Mountain — Story, Setting & Ideas. The same unhurried courage, perhaps, just lifted from town streets to pine-shadowed trails.