THE SAFETY PATROL
Having entombed Queen Tut more effectually than ever the ancient
Egyptians did, Pee-wee returned to school the following Monday. A
lengthy conference between Elsie and her mother had resulted in the
decision that the girl should go to the masquerade as Joan of Arc.
“Perhaps her martial character will protect her from annihilation,” said
Mrs. Harris wistfully.
“I feel,” said Elsie, looking through tear-stained eyes, “as if I’d like
to go as Bluebeard and kill every one I see—including all the small
brothers. I would like to go as Attila the Hun and massacre all the boy
scouts in Bridgeboro. Then I would seek out Marconi and assassinate him
because he invented the radio—if he did.”
“Poor Queen Tut,” said Mrs. Harris amiably, launched upon the new
costume. “Poor Walter.”
Poor Walter needed very little sympathy. He had gone to pastures new
where fresh glories awaited him. Having triumphed over the grippe and
Queen Tut, he presented himself at grammar school Monday morning. His
aerial masterpiece remained where he had left it when peremptorily
summoned to the house, festooning the lawn, minus its ornamental
appendage.
Upon Pee-wee’s arrival at school, his teacher sent him to Doctor Sharpe,
the principal, who wished to confer with him upon important matters.
“Harris,” said he, turning in his swivel chair, “I’m glad to know that
you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, sir,” said Pee-wee.
“You had quite a time of it, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” said Pee-wee, with more truth than the principal suspected.
“Walter, I suppose you know of the plan we’ve adopted here of having
selected pupils act as traffic officers during the rush hours, as I
might call them, when the boys and girls are coming and going in the
neighborhood of the school building.”
“Yes, sir,” said Pee-wee, hoisting up one of his stockings.
“The idea is to safeguard the pupils, especially the smaller ones, from
careless drivers. The boys appointed to take this responsibility are of
course pupils in good standing—intelligent, keen-witted, resourceful.
They wear badges and have the cooperation and backing of the police.”
“They have whistles, don’t they?” Pee-wee asked.
Already he saw himself, or rather heard himself, blowing his lungs out
in autocratic warning for the traffic to pause. His roving eye caught
sight of something on Doctor Sharpe’s desk which gladdened his heart.
This was a huge, celluloid disk or button as large as a molasses cookie
and equipped with a canvas band to encircle the arm and hold it in
place. If it had indeed been a molasses cookie, Pee-wee could hardly
have contemplated it with deeper yearning.
“I was an official in the clean-up campaign,” Pee-wee said. “I made ’em
clean up Barrel Alley. I cooperated with the police, I did. Once I even
got a man arrested for throwing a pie in the street. Gee whiz, that
isn’t what pies are for.”
“I should say not,” smiled Doctor Sharpe.
“So I know all about being a public official, kind of,” said Pee-wee.
“Well, that’s just what I thought. And besides you’re a scout, I
believe?”
“You said it.”
“And I always lean toward scouts when it comes to a question of
responsibility, public duty——”
“That’s where you’re right,” said Pee-wee. “Because scouts, you can
always depend on them. If a scout says he’ll keep a—anyway, gee whiz,
they’re always on the job, I’ll say that.”
“Well, I’m going to appoint you a traffic officer,” said Doctor Sharpe,
“and you’re to wear this badge and act in accordance with these
instructions.” He handed Pee-wee a carbon copy of a typewritten sheet.
“Read it now and tell me if you think you can assume these duties. I’ve
heard of your work in the clean-up campaign and that’s why I thought of
you. We need one more officer.”
“Did you hear about me—and the dead rat,” Pee-wee inquired. “I’ll read
it,” he said, alluding to the paper, “but anyway, I accept.”
The typewritten sheet read as follows:
INSTRUCTIONS FOR SAFETY PATROL
Officers of the safety patrol are to be at their designated
stations from 8.30 to 9.15 A.M.; and from 12 to 12.15 P.M.;
from 12.40 to 1.15 P.M.; and from 3 to 3.30 P.M. Officers of
the Safety Patrol are expected to carry their lunches as
they will not have sufficient time to go home.
The duties of the officers are to insure the safety of
pupils approaching and leaving the school, to warn, and when
necessary detain traffic in the interest of safety.
Boys acting as officers of this patrol are to use their
whistles and the uplifted hand in controlling traffic while
on duty and their authority must be obeyed by drivers of
vehicles in the school neighborhood. They shall report to
the principal any flagrant disregard of their authority by
drivers, taking the license number of the vehicle. They will
have the full cooperation of the police officer stationed in
the neighborhood.
Officers of the safety patrol will give their especial
attention to the smaller children, escorting them when
necessary. Theirs is the responsibility of keeping the
street and neighboring crossings clear during the approach
and departure of pupils, especially those of the lower
grades.
Their teachers will permit them to leave the classroom early
and no punishment for tardiness shall be incurred by their
remaining at their posts, as provided, after the bell rings.
Roswell Sharpe,
Principal.
Pee-wee received the badge as if it were a Distinguished Service Cross
tendered by Marshal Foch, or the Scout Gold Cross for supreme heroism.
It looked not unlike a giant wrist-watch on his small arm. At the same
time an authoritative celluloid whistle was handed him. He could not
bear to conceal this in his pocket so he hung it around his neck by an
emergency shoe-string which he carried.
He saw visions of himself frowning upon the proud drivers of Pierce
Arrows and Cadillacs. He saw the baffled chauffeurs of jitney buses jam
on their brakes when his authoritative hand said (as Marshal Joffre had
said), “_They shall not pass._” He saw himself the escort and protector
of golden-haired Marion Bates, who had laughed at him and called him
“Smarty.”
As he passed out through the principal’s anteroom, he noticed sitting
there Emerson Skybrow, the boy on whose head he had let fall an apple
core. It was a fine head, filled with the most select culture and
knowledge. That was why Pee-wee had dropped the core on it. Emerson was
not a favorite in the school, much less with the scouts. He said
“cinema” when he meant the movies, he said “luncheon” and “dinner”
instead of eats, he took “constitutionals” instead of hikes, he took
piano lessons, and he spoke of shows as “entertainments” or
“exhibitions.” There is much to be said for such a boy, but he is almost
certain to have apple cores dropped on him.
Emerson was not popular, but he was useful. He was not nervy, but he was
self-possessed. He talked like a grown person. It is significant that he
had not been appointed to the safety patrol. But he was always getting
himself appointed monitor. He distributed and gathered up books and
pencils in the classroom, he “opened the window a little at the top”
with a long implement, he could always be counted on for poetical
recitations.
On the present occasion Emerson had been sent as a delegation of one,
representing the entire student body, to prefer a particular request of
the principal. It had been shrewdly considered that any request made by
Emerson must be regarded as eminently proper and respectable. Emerson
was never late to school and seldom absent. Therefore, a request
involving an interruption of school routine in the interest of mere
entertainment would command attention in high places if made by Emerson.
That is why he had been delegated to approach Doctor Sharpe and request
that lessons he suspended for half an hour on the following morning in
order that the pupils might beguile themselves with something altogether
unorthodox in the humdrum daily life at school.
That was why Emerson was waiting in the anteroom.