burned charcoal or coal instead of logs. It would be a wonderful fire
for a cook-out, Jerry thought. Only he guessed that if you cooked a
meal over an open fire indoors, it should be called a cook-in.
Mr. Bullfinch inquired after the parrot's health, and Jerry said that
as far as he could tell, it was good. Jerry said he had wheeled the
television set over so the parrot could watch the ball game.
"I would have been looking at it, too, if I hadn't had to mow the lawn
and then go to the store."
"I can see that you are a busy lad," sympathized Mr. Bullfinch.
"I probably won't be over here so often after Monday," said Jerry,
after replacing the tobacco pouch in the grandfather clock.
"That so? We shall miss having you run in every day or so. Hope you
won't be too much of a stranger."
Mr. Bullfinch did not ask why Jerry's visits would be less frequent
after Monday. That was one of the nice things about Mr. Bullfinch, his
showing no curiosity about Jerry's affairs. Jerry was so grateful to
him for not asking embarrassing questions that he found it hard not to
break down and tell him all about the charge account. But that was a
temptation Jerry had already successfully resisted several times and
he now did again.
"After I get the candy Monday I'll give him some and tell him all
about it," Jerry vowed.
Jerry was pleased to find his father finishing mowing the lawn.
"At the rate you were going I thought you might not get it done before
dark," his father greeted him.
That was the way parents were. Instead of being grateful for what you
had done, they bawled you out for not finishing the last bit. "I would
have done it," said Jerry.
Jerry raked up the grass clippings before he took the box of raisins
in to his mother. "Where's Cathy?" he asked.
"I think she's down looking at TV."
Jerry ran down to the recreation room. The TV had been turned off.
Cathy was standing close to Pedro's cage.
"Cathy. Cathy. Cathy," she repeated. "Say Cathy."
Jerry was indignant. While he had been hard at work on the lawn and
then running to the store, Cathy had been trying to teach the parrot
to say her name.
"You quit that," ordered Jerry.
"I'd like to know why."
Jerry did not come right out and say that he wanted Pedro to say _his_
name first.
"Seems pretty conceited for you to think your name is the most
important word in the English language," he said. "Pretty conceited.
Naturally Pedro should learn the most important words first."
"What _is_ the most important word in the English language?" asked
Cathy.
"That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"If you could answer as many questions as you can ask, you'd be more
than half bright."
"Jerry Martin, are you calling me a moron? You know I get better
grades in school than you do."
"Who called you a moron?"
"You did."
"I did not. I didn't say how much more than half bright you'd be if
you could answer as many questions as you ask."
"You're--you're impossible."
Jerry turned the television on. As a singing commercial came on, the
parrot laughed a raucous laugh.
"Say, he may not know how to speak English but that parrot's got
sense," said Jerry admiringly.
A door above opened. "Jerry," called his mother from upstairs, "you
come right up here and get that snake off the hall table."
"It's only a little green snake I found when I was cutting the grass,"
grumbled Jerry. "I was going to catch flies for it. It's a perfectly
harmless snake."
"Snakes--ugh!" said Cathy.
"Say, what's got into you? I've seen you let a little green garter
snake wind around your wrist like a bracelet."
"I did, didn't I?" Cathy was suddenly on Jerry's level again. Then she
looked up at her reflection in a mirror over the television set and
smoothed her hair at the sides. "I used to do a lot of silly things
when I was young," she said.
She seemed to be insinuating that she was more grownup than Jerry,
even though they were twins. Jerry was furious with her. He was angry
because they were no longer the companions they used to be, though he
did not realize it. He missed the old Cathy, who reappeared only now
and then. They were so seldom really together nowadays and it had not
been long ago that they had been two against anything or anybody which
threatened one of them.
"I wouldn't be a girl for a million dollars," he said. "Little pats of
powder, Little daubs of paint, Make a little girly Look like what she
ain't," he quoted.
"Why Jerry Martin, I wouldn't think of using rouge. Mummy wouldn't let
me if I wanted to."
"Cathy," called her mother from upstairs. "Come set the table for
dinner."
Cathy, with one of her movie-queen looks, sailed past Jerry and went
upstairs.
"Girls are nuts," Jerry said.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Pedro.
"You _are_ a smart bird," said Jerry and tried in vain to teach the
parrot to say "Jerry." Pedro said "_Caramba_" again and a few Spanish
words Jerry did not understand, but that was all.
He certainly was a handsome bird. Jerry looked at him with affection.
"Give you time and you'll learn to speak English," said Jerry. And,
"Gosh, I wish you really belonged to me." Then, having been called
twice, Jerry went up to dinner.
Jerry went to the neighborhood movie that night with his mother and
Cathy, so he was later getting to bed than usual. He was dropping off
to sleep when he heard what he thought was a car backfiring outside.
Then, at the very edge of sleep again, Jerry smelled smoke. He rushed
to the window. By moonlight he could see the Bullfinch house almost as
plain as day. There was smoke coming out of the chimney. There was
also smoke rising from the roof.
"Fire!" bawled Jerry. "Fire!" he shouted all the way down the stairs.
[Illustration]
"The Bullfinch house is on fire!" he yelled at the door of the living
room where his father and mother were sitting.
"What?" cried his father.
"Is this one of your ideas of a joke?" asked his mother.
Jerry did not stop. The front door slammed behind him. "Fire!" he kept
shouting all the way to the Bullfinch house, as if a phonograph needle
had been stuck at that word in a record.
"I've got to get that grocery money out of there. I've got to," Jerry
thought, so excited and driven that he did not know he was shivering
with cold.
Jerry rang the Bullfinch doorbell hard with one hand while he pounded
on the door with the other.
Mr. Bullfinch came to the door. He looked only a little excited.
"Your house is on fire!" cried Jerry.
"I know. I know. I've called the fire department," said Mr. Bullfinch.
"Won't you come in?" he asked politely, as if it were not strange to
invite a person to come in a burning house.
Jerry was glad to get Mr. Bartlett's money safe in two pockets of his
pajamas. There was too much of it for one.
"Want me to help carry out things?" he asked Mr. Bullfinch.
Mrs. Bullfinch was fluttering about, wondering what should be saved
first, when sirens screeched and fire engines arrived on the scene.
By this time a small crowd had gathered to watch the fire. Jerry's
mother brought out a jacket for him to put on over his pajamas. He was
glad of its warmth and also because he could transfer Mr. Bartlett's
money into larger pockets where bulges would not be so conspicuous.
It was not much of a fire. It was soon out. All that had burned was
part of the eaves near the chimney. Jerry heard his father ask Mr.
Bullfinch if he knew how the fire had started. And Mr. Bullfinch
seemed slightly embarrassed as he explained what he thought must have
happened.
"I have only my own carelessness to blame," said Mr. Bullfinch. "You
see, I burn charcoal in the fireplace in my den. I keep a big sack of
charcoal briquets out in the garage. Well, soon after I put fresh
charcoal on the fire--I often read late you know--there was a sharp
series of bangs and I realized what had happened."
Then all that banging hadn't been a car backfiring, thought Jerry.
"There is a shelf in the garage over the sack of charcoal," Mr.
Bullfinch continued, "and there was a box of cartridges on the shelf.
It must be that a few cartridges spilled into the charcoal and they
went off when I put them on the fire. Lucky they fired up the chimney
instead of in the room. Loosened a few bricks in the chimney and
burned a bit of the eaves. No great damage, I'm thankful to say."
"That's the most unusual cause of a fire I ever heard of," said Mr.
Martin.
"I don't want the fire to be out so soon," mourned Andy, who had been
waked up to come to the fire.
"I'd better get that child to bed," said Mr. Martin.
Jerry would have followed his father but Mr. Bullfinch wanted to thank
him for coming over to rescue them, even though they had not needed to
be rescued. "But if I hadn't still been up you might have saved our
lives," he told Jerry. Then he told Jerry something else that filled
Jerry's heart with joy. Jerry was so grateful he could hardly speak.
Jerry kept his cause of gratitude to himself until the family were in
the kitchen having a bite to eat.
"Mr. Bullfinch has given Pedro to me," he said, putting a thick layer
of grape marmalade and peanut butter on a slice of bread. "A
five-dollar parrot and he's worth much more than that and Mr.
Bullfinch gave him to me for almost saving his life."
"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Martin.
"Fire!" bawled a loud hoarse voice from the cellar.
"It's Pedro. He's said his first English word." Jerry was beaming with
pride. "He'll be as good as a watchdog. Don't miners sometimes take
parrots into mines with them to warn them against poisonous fumes?"
"A canary I've heard of--not a parrot," said Mr. Martin. "And we're
really in very little danger from poisonous fumes. But I guess we
can't risk offending a neighbor by refusing a gift."
"Taking care of a parrot can be a lot of work," said Mrs. Martin.
"I'll help," offered Cathy. And Jerry was grateful to her.
"Fire!" the parrot kept bawling. "Fire!"
"Go down and put something over his cage or we'll not get any sleep,"
Jerry's mother told him. "Yes, you can keep him. I might have known
when I saw that parrot come into the house that he would stay."
As Jerry galloped down the stairs to the recreation room with a scarf
to put over Pedro's cage, he wondered if he would have hurried quite
as fast over to the Bullfinch house if it had not been for the money
in the grandfather clock. He had slipped in and put it back there
before coming home. Fire was not likely to strike twice in the same
house, he had thought.
Pedro was making gentle, clucking noises.
"Good night, old bird," said Jerry, after he had put the scarf over
the cage. "I wonder if parrots eat candy," he thought on his way
upstairs to bed. "When I get that candy from Mr. Bartlett tomorrow I'm
going to try Pedro on a piece of a lime mint. They're almost the same
color as the feathers near his throat."
Joy of ownership of a handsome green parrot made Jerry's steps light
on the stairs. He went to bed by moonlight. There seemed to be a glow
on everything.
10
May Day
"How nice that today is pleasant, so you can have your May Day
exercises outdoors," Mrs. Martin said, as she bustled about getting
her children's breakfast on the table.
"Did you finish hemming my dress?" asked Cathy. She was to be crowned
May Queen and was so worried about looking exactly right that she
could hardly eat her breakfast.
"It's all packed in a suit box," said Mrs. Martin. "I put in Andy's
costume under it. Be surer of getting there if you carry it."
"Do I have to wear that silly sash?" Andy was to help wind the Maypole
and was to wear yellow cambric shorts, a white blouse, and a yellow
sash around his middle.
"You must dress as your teacher told you to," said his mother. "Be
careful with that glass of milk, Andy."
Jerry was thankful that his only part in the May Day festival was to
help seat the parents. And that all he had to wear different from
usual was an armband. Jerry's mind was not on the May Day exercises.
He had something far more important to think about. Today was the day
he had so long looked forward to. Today he would pay the bill at
Bartlett's store. The store wouldn't be open early enough so he could
tend to it before school, but the minute he could get away from the
May Day exercises that afternoon he would race to Mr. Bullfinch's, get
the money from the grandfather clock, and go pay the bill. Thinking of
the candy that would then be presented to him made Jerry grin.
"You're looking mighty pleased with yourself this morning, Jerry,"
said his mother, passing him the bacon.
"Who? Me? It's Cathy who's the big shot today. Hi, Queenie! You
feeling squeamy?" he teased his sister. "Won't you look like
something--all dressed up like a circus horse, with a tinfoil crown on
your head? Yes, your majesty. No, your majesty. After this you'll
expect everybody to bow down to you. Not me. I'm not forgetting this
is a democracy."
"All I hope is that you won't do anything at the exercises that will
disgrace the family," said Cathy.
"Call me a disgrace to the family, do you? Well, I like that."
"There isn't time for you two to squabble. You should be leaving for
school in less than five minutes," said Mrs. Martin.
"I won't say a word if Cathy'll leave me alone," said Jerry.
"I leave you alone! Why it was you who started--"
"I don't care who started what. It's finished," said Mrs. Martin with
firmness.
Jerry gave Cathy a mocking smile. He was really proud that she had
been chosen May Queen. He would never let on to her all the votes he
had rounded up for her. Not Jerry. He kept it a dark secret that he
thought her the prettiest girl in their class. No need of making her
more stuck on her looks than she already was.
Lessons at school were brief that day. By ten-thirty, four boys from
the sixth grade were helping the custodian put up the Maypole. Then
there were two chairs from the principal's office to be draped with
gold-colored cambric, throne chairs for the King and Queen. As soon as
lunch period was over, Jerry helped carry chairs from the cafeteria
out to the yard, where they were arranged in rows facing the throne.
The exercises were to begin at one, but a few parents came before all
the chairs were in place.
A phonograph on a table behind a tree furnished music for winding the
Maypole. Jerry, standing with his classmates behind the chairs--there
were chairs only for the parents--saw that Andy looked very earnest
and a little scared. He got to going the wrong way once but was
quickly turned around by his kindergarten teacher. Jerry was glad for
Andy's sake when the Maypole dance was over.
Now came the crowning of the King and Queen. Cathy wore a white
billowy dress and her mother's pearl necklace. She was flushed and her
eyes shone.
"What a little charmer she will be in a few years," Jerry heard one of
the mothers say.
"Yeah! A snake charmer," Jerry thought. He knew though that that was
not the kind of charmer meant. Jerry did not want Cathy to charm
anybody, especially boys. It made him mad if he saw her look moony at
a boy. "Mush" was what Jerry called a certain way some of the girls
and boys looked at each other. It was definitely not for him.
Jerry managed to slip away before the exercises were quite over. A
spring song by the combined fourth and fifth grades rang in his ears
as he left the schoolyard. Everybody would be free to go home at the
end of the song, but Jerry wanted to get a head start. He wanted to
surprise the family with the box of candy the minute they got home.
He ran all the way to the Bullfinches'. "In an awful hurry. See you
later," he said, rushing in and grabbing the tobacco pouch of money
from the grandfather clock. Then he was off for the store, running as
if chased.
[Illustration]
Mr. Bartlett, for once, was alone in the store.
"I came to pay the bill," gasped Jerry, and he emptied the contents of
the tobacco pouch on the counter.
"Bring the bill with you?" asked Mr. Bartlett.
What bill? Jerry did not know anything about a bill. But he had saved
all the grocery slips. He had gone over to the Bullfinches' the
night before and added and added. He was sure the money was the right
amount.
Mr. Bartlett looked up the amount due in a ledger. He was a bit grumpy
about having to count so much chicken feed, as he called it, as he
counted the change. "It's all here," he said finally.
For an awful moment Jerry was afraid he was not going to get a bonus
for paying the bill. It was with enormous relief that he saw Mr.
Bartlett reach for a half-pound pasteboard box.
"It was a fair-sized bill and I'll give you a full half pound," said
Mr. Bartlett. "Anything you prefer?"
Jerry said he would like a few pink and green mints. With pleasure he
watched Mr. Bartlett arrange a row of varicolored mints and fill up
the rest of the box with chocolates--so full that the cover would
hardly go down.
Jerry thanked Mr. Bartlett with great heartiness. Fond though he was
of candy, Jerry didn't take even as much as a taste on the way home.
He would show it to his mother and Cathy and Andy but he would save it
untouched until his father got home from work.
"I wanted to prove to you that having a charge account pays off," he
would tell his father, offering him the open box, after Andy had had
the first piece--Jerry remembered that Andy was to have the first
piece. "Where else can you get something for nothing except by
charging your groceries at Bartlett's store?" That was what Jerry
would say to his father. Or something else that might occur to him
later. His father would be sure to see the advantage of charging
groceries as soon as he cast an eye on all that free candy.
Jerry whistled gaily most of the way back from the store. "Bet you
can't guess what I have," he cried, as he opened the kitchen door and
saw his mother and Cathy sitting at the kitchen table. Further
cheerful words died in his throat when he saw that both his mother and
Cathy had been crying.
"What's the matter?" Could something terrible have happened to his
father? Or to Andy? What awful thing could make his mother and Cathy
look so sad? There were envelopes and letters on the table. His mother
had been opening her mail. The bad news must have come in a letter,
then.
"Is Grandma Martin sick again?" Jerry asked.
His mother sobbed, and Jerry couldn't remember ever seeing his mother
cry. "How could you, Jerry? How could you do such a dreadful thing?"
"He didn't do it. I know he didn't to it!" cried Cathy. "Tell her you
didn't do it, Jerry. Tell her it must be a mistake."
"To think that a son of mine would be a thief!" said Jerry's mother.
And the face she turned toward him was full of hurt and
disappointment. It tore Jerry inside.
"I haven't done anything. Anything wrong," he said.
"You stand there and tell me that you haven't been charging groceries
at Bartlett's store for a month?"
"Sure I did but--"
"Oh, Jerry!" Cathy burst into tears.
"What did you do with the money?" demanded Jerry's mother. "Mischief
can be forgiven but stealing is a crime. When I opened an envelope and
found a bill for the month of April from Bartlett's store, I hoped
against hope that there must be a mistake. But now you confess you've
been deceiving me and charging the groceries that I gave you money to
pay for. I never thought I would be so ashamed of you, Jerry Martin."
The look she gave him was worse than a blow.
So she thought him a thief--was ashamed of him--believed the worst of
him before giving him a chance to explain. Jerry felt such a deep hurt
he felt like crying but he wasn't going to let anybody see him cry.
And if that was what his mother thought of him, he wasn't going to
stay around here. Not after she had looked at him as if she wished he
did not belong in her family.
Jerry slammed the box of candy so hard on the table that the cover
opened and some of the candy fell out.
"I paid the bill with the money. Ask Mr. Bartlett if you don't believe
me. I was going to surprise you by showing you the bonus he gives for
charging a month's groceries. I didn't spend a cent of your old money.
I--" Jerry suddenly could not endure being there a second longer. He
rushed out, slamming the door behind him.
Rage sent Jerry hurrying down his street and out to Massachusetts
Avenue. He was so hurt and angry he could hardly see straight. He
would run away from home. He would leave Washington. He would go
somewhere a long way off. He would go where nobody would be likely to
accuse him unjustly of being a thief. He walked rapidly, almost
running in his hurry to leave home.
Where should he go? Jerry did not have even the bus fare to go to
town, let alone get out of the city. But he had two feet, didn't he?
Maybe after he decided where he was going he would hitchhike. Jerry
knew his mother disapproved of hitchhiking but why should he pay any
attention to that now, after she had believed him to be a thief? Jerry
made no effort, however, to hitch a ride. He walked and walked.
There were azaleas in bloom in some of the yards he passed. Bushes of
faded lilacs. Bright beds of tulips and pansies. Jerry did not notice
them. He was in no mood to enjoy flowers. He was about a mile from
home when he remembered hearing a guest say to his mother, "Florida is
really delightful in the spring. And after the winter visitors have
left the prices go down."
[Illustration]
Jerry thought it might be a good idea to go where the prices had gone
down. Be easier for him to earn enough to live on. A lot of people
went fishing off the coast of Florida. Maybe he could help out on some
fishing boat. Jerry liked to fish and he liked boats. That idea
appealed to him. But he realized that it was a long, long way to
Florida from Washington, D. C. It was even a long way--five miles at
least--from Jerry's house to Memorial Bridge, over which he would
cross the Potomac into the state of Virginia.
As Jerry went along the part of Massachusetts Avenue which has many
foreign embassies, it occurred to him that he might be seeing
Washington for the last time. So he looked hard at the white
Venezuelan Embassy and at the red brick British Embassy. Those were
his two favorites, and he wanted to remember how they looked.
There were several circles to go around and a bridge to cross over
Rock Creek Park before Jerry was anywhere near Memorial Bridge. He
missed his direction a little when he left Massachusetts Avenue, but
he was finally in sight of the Lincoln Memorial and the bridge was
near.
Jerry yielded to an impulse to take a last look at the Lincoln
Memorial. He climbed the steps and stood and gazed up at the seated
figure of Abraham Lincoln, with so much sadness and kindness in his
face.
Having paid his respects to Abraham Lincoln, it didn't seem quite
right to be leaving town without doing the same by George Washington.
Weary though his legs were, Jerry trudged over to the Washington
Monument.
There were not many people waiting in line to go up in the Monument.
Jerry was the only one who walked up instead of riding to the top in
the elevator. Jerry did not know why he wanted to climb all those
eight hundred and ninety-eight steps, but he did. He did a lot of
thinking and remembering on his way up. That was the way you did when
you were leaving home, he guessed. He thought of school and home and
playing baseball--things like that. And some about George Washington.
Jerry greatly admired all he had read about him. He was glad they had
named the capital of the United States for Washington.
Jerry had been at the top of the Monument many times, yet it was
always a thrill to go from window to window and see each scene below.
From this one he could see the Capitol and the greenish dome of the
Library of Congress. From another window he looked down on a crowded
part of the city. Jerry thought that if he knew just where to look, he
might see the hospital where he had been born.
The window that overlooked the White House was one of Jerry's favorite
views. He remembered Easter Mondays when he had gone to roll eggs on
the White House lawn. He remembered a time when he was five, younger
than Andy--a time when he had gotten separated from 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.