thought. "And when I do, Andy not only gets the first piece; I don't
care if he takes a whole handful."
Jerry noticed that Andy almost had to run to keep up with him. He
slowed down. Jerry felt like being very nice to Andy even if it meant
that they would be late for school.
8
The Auction
"School going all right, Jerry?" asked his father.
Jerry was at the dining room table after dinner doing homework. He had
a list of geography questions and was supposed to write down the
answers. That meant either looking them up in the book or asking his
father. Jerry's dad knew a good deal about geography, yet after
answering a few questions he was likely to say, "How can you expect to
learn if you don't find out for yourself?" He seemed to be in a good
humor tonight. Jerry thought he might be good for answers to at least
three questions of the ten.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not failing anything at school," said Jerry.
"Glad to hear it. I thought you've looked lately as if something were
worrying you. If your arithmetic is giving you trouble again, maybe I
can give you a little help."
"Arithmetic's not so hard after you get the hang of it. I got a
hundred in an arithmetic test day before yesterday."
"Good for you. Keep up the good work. I expect you to be good college
material, you know, and that's not too many years ahead."
The words "college material" weighed Jerry's spirits. It seemed such a
long stretch of school before he would be ready for college. And all
that time he would be expected to do good work, good the rest of this
term in order to be good in junior high, even better in junior high to
be good in high school, and then you had to be a regular whiz on
wheels in senior high to be good college material. So much excellence
expected of him made Jerry feel tired.
"Guess I'll do the rest of this tomorrow morning before school," he
said.
"Finish it now," ordered his father. "You know you never have time to
do homework before school."
"Could be a first time," said Jerry, but he bent over his paper again.
"What are the chief products of Central America?" he asked.
"That's rather a large question," said Mr. Martin. "Let's see."
While his father was calling to mind the products of Central America,
Jerry was thinking of the pleasant fact that there were only a few
more days before he could settle the bill at Bartlett's store. And
what a relief it would be to have that charge account off his mind!
Jerry thought how surprised his father would be if he knew the cause
of his improvement in arithmetic. Jerry had not realized at first
that all that adding and subtracting when he made change was helping
his arithmetic, but now he could tell that he could add and subtract
much faster. After bringing his mother the wrong change just once and
having to pretend to go back to the store when he went only as far as
Mr. Bullfinch's, Jerry had learned that it paid to be accurate.
"Bananas, coffee, and some silver," said Mr. Martin.
With difficulty Jerry's mind came back to geography. But he had
forgotten which question he had asked his father. "Is that the answer
to number four?" he asked.
"If you can't keep your mind on your work I'm not going to help you.
Look up your own answers. How can you expect to learn if you don't
find out for yourself?" Mr. Martin took the evening paper into the
living room.
Cathy, who was sitting at the other end of the dining room table
reading, looked up and laughed. "You didn't get much out of Daddy this
time, did you?"
Jerry saw that the jacket of the book Cathy was reading had a picture
of a girl and a boy walking together, with the boy carrying a lot of
books. Hers as well as his, Jerry guessed. Catch him carrying a girl's
books. "I suppose you have your homework all done," he snarled at
Cathy.
"Of course, bird-brain."
"Bird-brain! If I have the brains of a bird you haven't any more than
a--than a cockroach," said Jerry, which was the worst he could think
of to say just then.
[Illustration]
"Boys aren't supposed to be so rude to girls. You're the limit. The
utter, utter limit."
"Who says so?"
"I say so."
"You!" Jerry packed so much scorn into the word that Cathy looked at
him in surprise.
"What's eating you lately?" she asked.
Jerry gathered his books and papers together. If Cathy began being
nice to him for a change he might find himself confiding to her. It
had made him uneasy to be alone with her ever since he had started
that charge account business. He would be safer now up in his own
room.
"I can't study here where you keep jawing at me," he complained.
"Well, I like that. I hardly opened my mouth and now you--"
"Like it or lump it," cried Jerry from the doorway. "Today is
Thursday," thought Jerry, as he ran upstairs. "Monday will be the
first. That will be the day. All I have to do is hold out till the
first of the week."
On Friday, Mrs. Martin for once did not need anything at the store. Of
course she had a big order for Saturday morning. So much that she
thought of taking the car, with Jerry going along to help with the
carrying, but Jerry said he could manage perfectly well with his cart.
"No sense wasting gas when you have me to go to the store for you," he
said.
"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" asked his mother. "I can't
think what has gotten in to you to be so obliging. But it's nice to
have a boy so willing to run errands," she said, giving Jerry the
grocery list. "Sure you can manage?"
Jerry was sure.
When he stopped by at the Bullfinches' on his way back from the
store--he had to get change from a twenty this time--Mr. Bullfinch was
getting ready to go to an auction out in Rockville.
"How'd you like to come with me?" he invited Jerry. Mr. Bullfinch had
been especially cordial to him lately as if to make up for having
suspected him of housebreaking. "If you've never been to an auction
you might find it interesting."
Jerry liked the idea. He said he would be right back as soon as he
took the groceries home and asked his mother if he could go.
"Fine. Hope you can go. I'll be glad of your company," said Mr.
Bullfinch.
Ten minutes later Jerry and Mr. Bullfinch were on their way to
Rockville. Jerry had never ridden in Mr. Bullfinch's car before. It
was not the car that was jerky, Jerry discovered, but Mr. Bullfinch.
Still, he was a careful driver except when he got to talking. Then he
seemed to forget his was not the only car on the road and the other
cars honked at him. Yet Mr. Bullfinch was good at missing the other
cars. At the very edge of collision he was a marvelous driver. Jerry
held on to the door pull most of the time.
It was not a long drive to Rockville. They made it by five after ten,
Jerry noticed by a clock over a bank near where Mr. Bullfinch parked
the car.
"This is one of the smaller auction houses," explained Mr. Bullfinch,
as he led the way into a place that looked to Jerry like a secondhand
furniture store. "But sometimes the most interesting items are put up
at small auctions."
Jerry jingled the small change in his pocket. His entire wealth at the
moment was forty-seven cents, hardly enough to buy either a usual or
unusual item. He noticed that Mr. Bullfinch looked less calm and
dignified than usual. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes, an
intensity in his voice. Jerry could tell that Mr. Bullfinch felt the
same about auctions as Jerry did about going to baseball games out at
Griffith Stadium.
Folding chairs had been set up in the middle of the big room where the
auction was being held. Furniture and stuff was jammed all around,
even at the back of the platform where the auctioneer stood. He was a
thick-set, big-mouthed man wearing a blue and red plaid sport shirt.
"That's Jim Bean. He always puts on a good show," said Mr. Bullfinch.
As Mr. Bullfinch and Jerry took seats in the back row, the auctioneer
was holding up a table lamp.
"Now here is something really beautiful," he was saying in a slightly
hoarse yet persuasive voice. "This lamp has a base of real Chinese
porcelain. Old Chinese porcelain and that's the most valuable, as all
of you here know. Probably should be in a museum. Shade's a bit worn
but it's easy enough to get one of those. Now I hope I'm going to hear
a starting bid of ten for this exquisite piece of antique Chinese
porcelain. Worth every cent of fifty or more but I'm willing to start
it at ten."
"One dollar," said Mr. Bullfinch.
"That bid," said the auctioneer, "was too low for me to hear."
"Two," snapped a lady in the front row.
A man two seats to the left of Jerry held up a finger.
"Three I'm bid. Who will make it five?" said Mr. Bean.
"Three-fifty," said Mr. Bullfinch.
"Come, come," said Mr. Bean, "I can't accept bids of peanuts.
Three-fifty I'm offered. We're just starting, folks. Do I hear five?"
Jerry could not tell for sure but somebody in the front row must have
indicated a bid of five, for now Mr. Bean was droning, "Five I have.
Who will make it ten? Worth many times more. Five I have for this
museum piece. Five I have."
The lamp was going to be sold for five, Jerry thought, when Mr.
Bullfinch sat up straight and snapped, "Six!" His eyes shone. He was
really enjoying himself.
It was like a game, Jerry thought, and wished he dared risk a bid.
Better not, he decided, for there was always the chance that nobody
would bid higher and he would be stuck with something he did not want
and could not pay for. Better be on the safe side and let Mr.
Bullfinch do the bidding. That was almost as much fun as doing it
himself.
The lamp was finally sold to the lady in the front row who had first
bid against Mr. Bullfinch. Sold to her for nine dollars, which Mr.
Bean said was giving it away.
"Glad I didn't get it. We already have too many lamps," Mr. Bullfinch
said in a low voice to Jerry, which proved that he had been bidding
for the sport of it.
Mr. Bullfinch did not open his mouth when the next few items were
sold. After starting the ball rolling he was content to let others
keep it rolling for a while. Besides, a bed, two French chairs, and a
worn oriental rug were not unusual enough to interest him. Such items
came up, he explained to Jerry, at nearly every auction held in
Washington or its suburbs. But when Mr. Bean was handed a large cage
with a large bird in it by one of his helpers, Mr. Bullfinch sat up
straight on the edge of his chair again.
"Never knew a parrot to be auctioned off before," he told Jerry.
[Illustration]
"Diplomat leaving the country says, 'Sell everything,' and that
included this handsome bird. Speaks Spanish, they tell me. Wish Polly
would oblige us by saying something in Spanish, but he--I understand
it's a male--is too shy to speak before strangers. He's been well
taken care of. Wonderful gloss to his feathers," praised Mr. Bean.
"Beautiful color. Give an accent to any decor, modern or traditional,
besides being a wonderful pet. Now who is going to be the lucky owner
of this gorgeous bird?"
Jerry was surprised that Mr. Bullfinch did not begin the bidding,
which started at a disgusting low of fifty cents. Mr. Bullfinch did
not speak until the bidding rose to three dollars. Then, "Five
dollars," he said in a firm voice that dared anybody to bid higher.
Since nobody did, the parrot was Mr. Bullfinch's for five dollars.
"Guess I could have had it for four," Mr. Bullfinch said to Jerry.
"Thought it would go to seven."
Jerry was very glad that Mr. Bullfinch's had been the winning bid. It
would be interesting to have a Spanish-speaking parrot next door,
though Jerry would have bid for the parrot himself if he had had the
money. The only pet the Martin family had was Bibsy. "Wish we had a
parrot," thought Jerry.
Jerry rather lost interest in the auction after the high spot of
selling the parrot. Mr. Bullfinch put in a bid once in a while but let
his bid be topped.
Since Mr. Bullfinch already had a parrot cage, he could keep one cage
in the house and the other out in the yard, Jerry was thinking, as a
mahogany sewing table was lifted to the auctioneer's platform. Neither
Jerry nor Mr. Bullfinch was interested in mahogany sewing tables.
Jerry's eyes wandered. He hardly heard Mr. Bean praise the sewing
table and accept the first bid. Jerry turned his head and looked
around and there was Bill Ellis, a classmate of Jerry's in the sixth.
The man beside him was his father. Jerry had seen him enough times to
recognize him.
Bill saw Jerry and grinned and Jerry put up a hand in greeting.
"Sold for three dollars to the young man in the red jacket in the back
row," said the auctioneer.
Horrified, Jerry realized that his raised arm had been interpreted as
a bid and that he had just bought a mahogany sewing table. "I don't
want it. It was a mistake," he wanted to say, but before he could get
the words out, Mr. Bean was extolling the beauties of a large oil
painting. Jerry had missed his chance to speak up.
"Be a nice present for your mother," said Mr. Bullfinch.
Jerry was sunk in despair. He thought that if you bought something at
an auction you had to keep it. What was he going to do when he and Mr.
Bullfinch went up to the desk near the door where you paid and what
you had bought was brought out to you?
"Forty-seven cents isn't any three dollars," thought Jerry dismally.
Nor did he have any more at home.
Suddenly Jerry thought of a place where there was plenty of ready
money. In Mr. Bullfinch's grandfather clock. Suppose he told the man
at the desk that he did not have enough money on him but would be
right back with some. Then he could borrow enough to pay for the
sewing table--minus forty-seven cents. Of course it was Mr. Bartlett's
money, not his, but as soon as he got back from paying for the sewing
table Jerry could go around the neighborhood and get a lawn or two to
mow and get money to pay back to Mr. Bartlett. But suppose nobody
wanted a lawn mowed? And how would he get back and forth between
Rockville and Washington? On a bus, maybe.
"I believe I've had about enough of this," said Mr. Bullfinch, and he
led the way to the desk where the paying for and delivery of goods
took place.
Jerry did a lot of thinking as he followed Mr. Bullfinch. He
remembered reading a story about a man who worked in a bank and took
money, expecting to pay it back, only he couldn't. If Jerry borrowed
some of Mr. Bartlett's money, that wouldn't be much different from
what the man in the bank did. And he had gone to jail.
"Anyway, it wouldn't be honest," thought Jerry, and knew he couldn't
get money to pay for the sewing table that way. What the man at the
desk would say to him when he had to confess he couldn't pay, Jerry
dreaded to find out.
Mr. Bullfinch paid for his parrot. Jerry moved up toward the desk. He
was pale behind his freckles. He could see a man bringing over the
mahogany sewing table. Just then, somebody touched Jerry's arm.
"I'll give you a dollar more than you paid for that sewing table,"
said a woman in a red hat.
Color rushed back into Jerry's face. He beamed at the woman. "Pay the
man three dollars and you can have it," he said.
On their way out to the car--and Mr. Bullfinch very kindly let Jerry
carry the cage with the parrot in it--Mr. Bullfinch explained that it
would have been quite all right for Jerry to have made a dollar on the
sewing table. "If somebody offers you more than you have paid it's all
right to take it. But what made you decide you didn't want the little
sewing table?"
"My mother has a sewing table," said Jerry.
"Good thing then you got rid of it," said Mr. Bullfinch. "Sometimes
I'm not so lucky at getting rid of something I've bought and don't
need. I get a bit carried away when I get to bidding."
Mr. Bullfinch looked calm and dignified again, but Jerry remembered
how thrilled he had looked at the auction.
"Did you enjoy going to an auction?" asked Mr. Bullfinch.
"I enjoyed most of it," said Jerry. But nobody would ever know, he
thought, slightly swinging the heavy cage, how relieved he had been to
get rid of that mahogany sewing table. He rather wished now, though,
that he had accepted that extra dollar.
9
As Good as a Watchdog
It was time for lunch when Jerry got back from the auction. He was
eating his second big waffle and his fourth sausage--the Martins
always had an especially good lunch on Saturdays since it was the one
weekday they were all home to lunch--when there was a knock at the
back door.
Mr. Martin went to the door, and the family heard him say cordially,
"Come right in."
Into the dining room came Mr. Bullfinch, parrot cage in hand. The
parrot was head-down, holding onto the perch with his feet.
"He speaks Spanish," Jerry said, although he had already informed his
family of that fact. "Make him say something in Spanish, Mr.
Bullfinch."
Mr. Bullfinch refused to sit down but he did put the parrot cage on a
chair. "Say '_Buenos dias_,'" he urged the parrot. "That is 'Good day'
or 'How do you do' in Spanish," he explained. But the parrot said
nothing in any language.
By this time Jerry and Andy were kneeling on the floor by the cage.
"Pretty Polly. Polly want a cracker?" crooned Andy.
[Illustration]
"He's not a she, he's a he," said Jerry.
"Don't put your finger near the cage. He might bite," Mrs. Martin
warned Andy.
"He wouldn't bite _me_. Parrots like me," said Andy.
"Where did you ever get acquainted with a parrot?" asked Cathy, who
had come over to admire the big green bird.
"Somewheres."
"You just dreamed you did." Cathy gave her small brother a hug,
against which he pretended to struggle. He bumped into the cage and
the parrot gave a loud squawk.
"Look out," cried Mrs. Martin.
"I've come to ask a big favor," said Mr. Bullfinch in his polite
voice. "I didn't realize until I got home that my wife is violently
allergic to parrots. She had a severe sneezing fit when it had not
been in the house more than five minutes. So, I'll have to dispose of
the bird. Fine specimen it is, too. Well, it's too late now to get a
'for sale' notice in the paper before Monday, and if I keep the bird
in the house until then my wife might have an asthma attack. Would it
be too much of an imposition for me to ask you to keep the parrot over
here until Monday?" he asked.
"Not at all," said Mr. Martin heartily.
"I'm not sure we could trust Bibsy to let the parrot alone. You know
how it is with birds and cats, Mr. Bullfinch," said Mrs. Martin.
"Say, do you think any cat could get the best of a bird with a beak on
him like that?" cried Jerry. "Anyway, Bibsy is good about leaving
birds alone. You know she is. Besides, having a parrot who can speak
Spanish in the house will teach us a little Spanish. I heard you say
that the reason people in the United States are so poor at speaking
foreign languages is because they don't start young enough to learn
one. Here's our chance."
"The amount of Spanish you'd learn from a parrot over a week end won't
be likely to make you very proficient in the language," said Mrs.
Martin. Then she turned to Mr. Bullfinch and told him she would be
glad to keep the parrot until Monday. "But only till Monday," she
said, looking at Jerry.
After Mr. Bullfinch had expressed his thanks and left, all three of
the Martin children begged their mother to buy the parrot from Mr.
Bullfinch. Jerry rashly promised all his allowance for May. Cathy
wouldn't go as far as that but she would spare a dollar. And Andy
trotted off for his piggy bank to contribute his pennies.
"I better run after Mr. Bullfinch and tell him he needn't phone in
that ad for the newspaper," said Jerry.
"You'll do no such thing," said his mother. "I agreed to keep the
parrot over the week end. I meant over the week end and no longer."
When their mother spoke in that tone of voice, her children had
learned it was no use to argue.
"I've always wanted a parrot for a pet and here is a good chance to
get one and you turn it down," grumbled Jerry.
"What's the parrot's name?" asked Mr. Martin.
Jerry didn't know. "Can you ask him what his name is in Spanish?" he
asked his father.
Mr. Martin didn't think that would do much good but he could and did
ask the parrot in Spanish what his name was.
There was no response from the parrot.
"Guess you'll have to give him a name," said Mr. Martin.
"Let's call him Pete," suggested Andy.
"Pete's not a Spanish name. He ought to have a Spanish name," said
Cathy.
"I think Pedro's the Spanish for Pete," said Jerry, remembering a
story he had read about a Spanish donkey.
They agreed on Pedro. They all addressed the parrot by name but he
only glared at them with his beady eyes and kept silent.
"Maybe he's dumb," said Andy.
"Maybe he's too young to know how to talk," said Cathy.
"He's not that young," said Jerry.
They were eating dessert--pineapple upside-down cake--when the parrot
beat his wings and said in a strong, hoarse voice, "_Caramba!_"
"What does that mean?" Jerry asked his father.
"It's a Spanish word that they use the same way we say 'Gosh!'"
"_Caramba!_" repeated Jerry.
"_Caramba!_" Andy tried to say, only it came out more like
"_Carimba!_" The way he said it made it sound like a swear word.
"Oh, dear, I hope that bird won't teach the children any bad
language," said Mrs. Martin.
"I somehow doubt if he'll teach them to swear in Spanish over the week
end," said Mr. Martin, with a twinkle in his eye.
Then there began an argument about where the parrot's cage should be
hung. Cathy said it should be in her room because the parrot's color
would go so well with her bedspread and curtains. Jerry said that
naturally the cage should be in his room. He had known the parrot
longest, hadn't he?
"He likes me best. I know he does," declared Andy. "I want him to
sleep with me."
"Maybe the recreation room would be more appropriate," suggested Mr.
Martin.
Mrs. Martin knew where there was a big hook which could be screwed in
over one of the windows. "You can spend as much time down there with
him as you want to," she told the children.
"If we turn the TV on good and loud, that might teach him a little
English," said Jerry. "We teach him English. He teaches us Spanish."
"Fair enough," said Mr. Martin.
Later in the afternoon Jerry was taking his time about mowing the
lawn, and wishing there was stuff to put on grass to make it stop
growing instead of all that fertilizer his father put on to make it
grow, when his mother called and asked him to run to the store for a
package of raisins. She wanted to make raisin sauce for the ham they
were having for dinner that night.
Jerry never minded having to stop mowing the lawn. Now if his father
had a power mower that would be different. But Jerry's father refused
to buy a power mower until he decided that Jerry was old enough to run
it. In Jerry's opinion, he was old enough now. He threw down the
despised hand lawn mower and started for the store, walking, not
taking his bike this time. His mother was in no immediate hurry for
the raisins and Jerry was certainly in no hurry to finish mowing the
lawn.
This probably would be his last trip to the store before the happy
time of going to pay the bill on Monday, Jerry thought, making a
slight detour in order to jump two low hedges in a neighbor's yard.
Over without touching, he was pleased to note. May Day would mean the
end of all that rigmarole of the secret charge account. And what a
relief that would be! In his thoughts Jerry had shied away from
applying the word deceit to his charging groceries and keeping Mr.
Bartlett's money over at the Bullfinches', but he had not been able to
get away from an uneasy feeling about what he had been doing. It was
his nature to be open and aboveboard. The past month had been a
strain.
"Now it's all over but the payoff," thought Jerry, waiting for Mr.
Bartlett to make out the grocery slip. The candy in the showcase next
to the cash register looked luscious. Jerry wondered how many pieces
there were in a half pound and thought of asking but decided against
it. Jerry was still hopeful that Mr. Bartlett would at least make it a
heavy half pound when the bill was paid.
This time Jerry had to get only change for half a dollar from the
grandfather clock. He stopped to visit a few minutes with Mr.
Bullfinch, who had a fireplace fire burning in his den.
"Had a man here last week to give the furnace its summer hookup," said
Mr. Bullfinch. "Should have had more sense. I forgot that it's
possible to half roast and half freeze on the same day. This morning
felt like June and this afternoon's more like March. That's Washington
spring weather for you."
Jerry agreed that the weather had turned chilly. He watched the flames
lick the charcoal briquets in the fireplace.