how Washington had stayed with his soldiers through the hardships of
the winter at Valley Forge? They were not men who had run away from
the hard things of life. Jerry tried to close his mind against
thoughts of Lincoln and Washington. They were dead and gone and had
nothing to do with him. It was no use. It had been a mistake, Jerry
realized now, to revisit the Memorial and the Monument. Something in
both places had pulled against his wanting to run away. Suddenly Jerry
realized that he couldn't do it. He no longer even wanted to run away.
He wanted to go home.
11
Welcome Home!
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."
[Illustration]
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.
THE Surprise OF THEIR LIVES
by Hazel Wilson
This book contains the amazing story of Mary Jo and James Dunham, who
lived on Morning Street in Portland, Maine, with their father and
mother and small sister Ellen.
You wouldn't expect much out of the ordinary to happen to the Dunhams.
They went about their happy life--having birthdays and Halloween
parties, going to school and staying after, getting into barrels and
the mouths of cannons, quarreling and scolding sometimes, but being
fond of each other always underneath--as if it would be that way
forever.
But you would be reckoning without Lizzie Atkins and scarlet fever if
you thought the sea would always stay calm with only a few ripples for
the Dunhams. In fact, it was mostly due to Lizzie, whom some parents
forbade their children to play with, that Mary Jo and James received
just about the biggest surprise that could happen to anyone.
This is not the place to tell what the surprise was. You will have to
read the book to find out.
_Drawings and jacket by_
Robert Henneberger
[Illustration: (Hazel Wilson photo by Lange)]
HAZEL WILSON
Mrs. Wilson has written several stories with the background of her
native State of Maine. Among them are THE SURPRISE OF THEIR LIVES,
about the amazing adventure of a boy and girl in the days when ocean
liners docked at Portland, and TALL SHIPS, an exciting tale of
impressment and sea battles during the War of 1812.
In 1956, Mrs. Wilson's work for children and books, as librarian,
teacher, and author, was recognized by her own college, Bates, in
Maine, which awarded her its honorary degree of Master of Arts.
For JERRY'S CHARGE ACCOUNT, she has moved her background to what is
now her home city, Washington, D.C. Readers will discover that this
background plays an important part in helping Jerry work out his
difficulties.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Moved some illustrations to avoid breaking up the text. Corrected
mismatched quotes.
On page 30, changed "his legs for apart" to "his legs far apart".
End of Project Gutenberg's Jerry's Charge Account, by Hazel Hutchins Wilson