XI. The Automobile
FOR THREE days everybody hunted all over the house for Margalo without finding so much as a feather.
"I guess she had spring fever," said George. "A normal bird doesn't stay indoors this kind of weather."
"Perhaps she has a husband somewhere and has gone to meet him," suggested Mr. Little.
"She has not!" sobbed Stuart, bitterly. "That's just a lot of nonsense."
"How do you know?" asked George.
"Because I asked her one time," cried Stuart. "She told me she was a single bird."
Everybody questioned Snowbell closely, but the cat insisted he knew nothing about Margalo's disappearance. "I don't see why you have to make a pariah out of me just because that disagreeable little chippy flew the coop," said Snowbell, irritably.
Stuart was heartbroken. He had no appetite, refused food, and lost weight. Finally he decided that he would run away from home without telling anybody, and go out into the world and look for Margalo. "While I am about it, I might as well seek my fortune, too," he thought.
Before daybreak next morning he got out his biggest handkerchief and in it he placed his toothbrush, his money, his soap, his comb and brush, a clean suit of underwear, and his pocket compass.
"I ought to take along something to remember my mother by," he thought. So he crept into his mother's bedroom where she was still asleep, climbed the lamp cord to her bureau, and pulled a strand of Mrs. Little's hair from her comb. He rolled the hair up neatly and laid it in the handkerchief with the other things. Then he rolled everything up into a bundle and tied it onto one end of a wooden match. With his gray felt hat cocked jauntily on one side of his head and his pack slung across his shoulder, Stuart stole softly out of the house.
"Good-by, beautiful home," he whispered. "I wonder if I will ever see you again."
Stuart stood uncertainly for a moment in the street in front of the house. The world was a big place in which to go looking for a lost bird. North, south, east, or west--which way should he go? Stuart decided that he needed advice on such an important matter, so he started uptown to find his friend Dr. Carey, the surgeon-dentist, owner of the schooner Wasp.
The doctor was glad to see Stuart. He took him right into his inner office where he was busy pulling a man's tooth. The man's name was Edward Clydesdale, and he had several wads of gauze in his cheek to hold his mouth open good and wide. The tooth was a hard one to get out, and the Doctor let Stuart sit on his instrument tray so they could talk during the operation.
"This is my friend, Stuart Little," he said to the man with the gauze in his cheek.
"How 'oo oo, Soo'rt," replied the man, as best he could.
"Very well, thank you," replied Stuart.
"Well, what's on your mind, Stuart?" asked Dr. Carey, seizing hold of the man's tooth with a pair of pincers and giving a strong pull.
"I ran away from home this morning," explained Stuart. "I am going out into the world to seek my fortune and to look for a lost bird. Which direction do you think I should start out in?"
Dr. Carey twisted the tooth a bit and racked it back and forth. "What color is the bird?" he asked.
"Brown," said Stuart.
"Better go north," said Dr. Carey. "Don't you think so, Mr. Clydesdale?"
"'ook in 'entral 'ark," said Mr. Clydesdale.
"What?" cried Stuart.
"I 'ay, 'ook in 'entral 'ark," said Mr. Clydesdale.
"He says look in Central Park," explained Dr. Carey, tucking another big wad of gauze into Mr. Clydesdale's cheek. "And it's a good suggestion. Oftentimes people with decayed teeth have sound ideas. Central Park is a favorite place for birds in the spring." Mr. Clydesdale was nodding his head vigorously, and seemed about to speak again.
"If 'oo 'on't 'ocate a 'ird in 'entral 'ark, 'ake a 'ew 'ork 'ew 'aven & 'artford 'ailway 'n 'ook in 'onnecticut."
"What?" cried Stuart, delighted at this new kind of talk. "What say, Mr. Clydesdale?"
"If 'oo 'on't 'ocate a 'ird in 'entral 'ark, 'ake a 'ew 'ork 'ew 'aven & 'artford 'ailway 'n 'ook in 'onnecticut."
"He says if you can't locate the bird in Central Park, take a New York New Haven & Hartford Railway train and look in Connecticut," said Dr. Carey. Then he removed the rolls of gauze from Mr. Clydesdale's mouth. "Rinse, please!" he said.
Mr. Clydesdale took a glass of mouthwash that was beside the chair and rinsed his mouth out.
"Tell me this, Stuart," said Dr. Carey. "How are you traveling? On foot?"
"Yes, sir," said Stuart.
"Well, I think you'd better have a car. As soon as I get this tooth out, we'll see what can be done about it. Open, please, Mr. Clydesdale."
Dr. Carey grabbed the tooth with the pincers again, and this time he pulled so long and so hard and with such determination that the tooth popped out, which was a great relief to everybody, particularly to Mr. Clydesdale. The Doctor then led Stuart into another room. From a shelf he took a tiny automobile, about six inches long--the most perfect miniature automobile Stuart had ever seen. It was bright yellow with black fenders, a streamlined car of graceful design. "I made this myself," Dr. Carey said. "I enjoy building model cars and boats and other things when I am not extracting teeth. This car has a real gasoline motor in it. It has quite a good deal of power--do you think you can handle it, Stuart?"
"Certainly," replied Stuart, looking into the driver's seat and blowing the horn. "But isn't it going to attract too much attention? Won't everybody stop and stare at such a small automobile?"
"They would if they could see you," replied Dr. Carey, "but nobody will be able to see you, or the car."
"Why not?" asked Stuart.
"Because this automobile is a thoroughly modern car. It's not only noiseless, it's invisible. Nobody can see it."
"I can see it," remarked Stuart.
"Push that little button!" said the Doctor, pointing to a button on the instrument panel. Stuart pushed the button. Instantly the car vanished from sight.
"Now push it again," said the Doctor.
"How can I push it when I can't see it?" asked Stuart.
"Feel around for it."
So Stuart felt around until his hand came in contact with a button. It seemed like the same button, and Stuart pushed it. He heard a slight grinding noise and felt something slip out from under his hand.
"Hey, watch out!" yelled Dr. Carey. "You pushed the starter button. She's off! There she goes! She's away! She's loose in the room--now we'll never catch her." He grabbed Stuart up and placed him on a table where he wouldn't be hit by a runaway car.
"Oh, mercy! Oh, mercy!" Stuart cried when he realized what he had done. It was a very awkward situation. Neither Dr. Carey nor Stuart could see the little automobile, yet it was rushing all over the room under its own power, bumping into things. First there came a crashing noise over by the fireplace. The hearth broom fell down. Dr. Carey leapt for the spot and pounced on the place where the sound had come from. But though he was quick, he had hardly got his hands on the place when there was another crash over by the wastebasket. The Doctor pounced again. Pounce! Crash! Pounce! Crash! The Doctor was racing all over the room, pouncing and missing. It is almost impossible to catch a speedy invisible model automobile even when one is a skillful dentist.
"Oh, oh," yelled Stuart, jumping up and down. "I'm sorry, Dr. Carey, I'm dreadfully sorry!"
"Get a butterfly net!" shouted the Doctor.
"I can't," said Stuart. "I'm not big enough to carry a butterfly net."
"That's true," said Dr. Carey. "I forgot. My apologies, Stuart."
"The car is bound to stop sometime," said Stuart, "because it will run out of gas."
"That's true, too," said the Doctor. And so he and Stuart sat down and waited patiently until they no longer heard any crashing sounds in the room. Then the Doctor got down on his hands and knees and crawled cautiously all over, feeling here and there, until at last he found the car. It was in the fireplace, buried up to its hubs in wood ashes. The Doctor
pressed the proper button and there it stood in plain sight again, its front fenders crumpled, its radiator leaking, its headlights broken, its windshield shattered, its right rear tire punctured, and quite a bit of yellow paint scratched off the hood.
"What a mess!" groaned the Doctor. "Stuart, I hope this will be a lesson to you: never push a button on an automobile unless you are sure of what you are doing."
"Yes, sir," answered Stuart, and his eyes filled with tears, each tear being smaller than a drop of dew. It had been an unhappy morning, and Stuart was already homesick. He was sure that he was never going to see Margalo again.
XII. The Schoolroom
WHILE Dr. Carey was making repairs on the car, Stuart went shopping. He decided that, since he was about to take a long motor trip, he should have the proper clothes. He went to a doll's shop, where they had things which were the right size for him, and outfitted himself completely, with new luggage, suits, shirts, and accessories. He charged everything and was well pleased with his purchases. That night he slept at the Doctor's apartment.
The next morning, Stuart started early, to avoid traffic. He thought it would be a good idea to get out on the road before there were too many cars and trucks. He drove through Central Park to One Hundred and Tenth Street, then over to the West Side Highway, then north to the Saw Mill River Parkway. The car ran beautifully and although people were inclined to stare at him, Stuart didn't mind. He was very careful not to press the button which had caused so much trouble the day before. He made up his mind that he would never use that button again.
Just as the sun was coming up, Stuart saw a man seated in thought by the side of the road. Stuart steered his car alongside, stopped, and put his head out.
"You're worried about something, aren't you?" asked Stuart.
"Yes, I am," said the man, who was tall and mild.
"Can I help you in any way?" asked Stuart in a friendly voice.
The man shook his head. "It's an impossible situation, I guess," he replied. "You see, I'm the Superintendent of Schools in this town."
"That's not an impossible situation," said Stuart. "It's bad, but it's not impossible."
"Well," continued the man, "I've always got problems that I can't solve. Today, for instance, one of my teachers is sick--Miss Gunderson her name is. She teaches Number Seven school. I've got to find a substitute for her, a teacher who will take her place."
"What's the matter with her?" asked Stuart.
"I don't know, exactly. The doctor says she may have rhinestones," replied the Superintendent.
"Can't you find another teacher?" asked Stuart.
"No, that's the trouble. There's nobody in this town who knows anything; no spare teachers, no anything. School is supposed to begin in an hour."
"I will be glad to take Miss Gunderson's place for a day, if you would like," suggested Stuart agreeably.
The Superintendent of Schools looked up.
"Really?"
"Certainly," said Stuart. "Glad to." He opened the door of the little car and stepped out. Walking around to the rear, he opened the baggage compartment and took out his suitcase. "If I'm to conduct a class in a schoolroom, I'd better take off these motoring togs and get into something more suitable," he said. Stuart climbed the bank, went into the bushes, and was back in a few minutes wearing a pepper-and-salt jacket, old striped trousers, a Windsor tie, and spectacles. He folded his other clothes and packed them away in the suitcase.
"Do you think you can maintain discipline?" asked the Superintendent.
"Of course I can," replied Stuart. "I'll make the work interesting and the discipline will take care of itself. Don't worry about me."
The man thanked him and they shook hands.
At quarter before nine the scholars had gathered in School Number Seven. When they missed Miss Gunderson and word got round that there would be a substitute, they were delighted.
"A substitute!" somebody whispered to somebody else. "A substitute, a substitute!"
The news traveled fast, and soon everyone in the schoolroom knew that they were all to have a rest from Miss Gunderson for at least a day and were going to have the wonderful experience of being taught by a strange teacher whom nobody had ever seen before.
Stuart arrived at nine. He parked his car briskly at the door of the school, stalked boldly into the room, found a yardstick leaning against Miss Gunderson's desk, and climbed hand-over-hand to the top. There he found an inkwell, a pointer, some pens and pencils, a bottle of ink, some chalk, a bell, two hairpins, and three or four books in a pile. Stuart scrambled nimbly up to the top of the stack of books and jumped for the button on the bell. His weight was enough to make it ring, and Stuart promptly slid down, walked to the front of the desk, and said: "Let me have your attention, please!"
The boys and girls crowded around the desk to look at the substitute. Everyone talked at once, and they seemed to be very much pleased. The girls giggled and the boys laughed and everyone's eyes lit up with excitement to see such a small and good-looking teacher, so appropriately dressed.
"Let me have your attention, please!" repeated Stuart. "As you know, Miss Gunderson is sick and I am taking her place."
"What's the matter with her?" asked Roy Hart, eagerly.
"Vitamin trouble," replied Stuart. "She took Vitamin D when she needed A. She took B when she was short of C, and her system became overloaded with riboflavin, thiamine hydrochloride, and even with pyridoxine, the need for which in human nutrition has not been established. Let it be a lesson for all of us!" He glared fiercely at the children and they made no more inquiries about Miss Gunderson.
"Everyone will now take his or her seat!" commanded Stuart. The pupils filed obediently down the aisles and dropped into their seats, and in a moment there was silence in the classroom. Stuart cleared his throat. Seizing a coat lapel in either hand, to make himself look like a professor, Stuart began: "Anybody absent?"
The scholars shook their heads.
"Anybody late?"
They shook their heads.
"Very well," said Stuart, "what's the first subject you usually take up in the morning?"
"Arithmetic," shouted the children.
"Bother arithmetic!" snapped Stuart. "Let's skip it."
There were wild shouts of enthusiasm at this suggestion. Everyone in the class seemed perfectly willing to skip arithmetic for one morning.
"What next do you study?" asked Stuart.
"Spelling," cried the children.
"Well," said Stuart, "a misspelled word is an abomination in the sight of everyone. I consider it a very fine thing to spell words correctly and I strongly urge every one of you to buy a Webster's Collegiate Dictionary and consult it whenever you are in the slightest doubt. So much for spelling. What's next?"
The scholars were just as pleased to be let out of spelling as they were about arithmetic, and they shouted for joy, and everybody looked at everybody else and laughed and waved handkerchiefs and rulers, and some of the boys threw spit balls at some of the girls. Stuart had to climb onto the pile of books again and dive for the bell to restore order. "What's next?" he repeated.
"Writing," cried the scholars.
"Goodness," said Stuart in disgust, "don't you children know how to write yet?"
"Certainly we do!" yelled one and all.
"So much for that, then," said Stuart.
"Social studies come next," cried Elizabeth Gardner, eagerly.
"Social studies? Never heard of them," said Stuart. "Instead of taking up any special subject this morning, why wouldn't it be a good idea if we just talked about something."
The scholars glanced around at each other in expectancy.
"Could we talk about the way it feels to hold a snake in your hand and then it winds itself around your wrist?" asked Arthur Greenlaw.
"We could, but I'd rather not," replied Stuart.
"Could we talk about sin and vice?" pleaded Lydia Lacey.
"Nope," said Stuart. "Try again."
> "Could we talk about the fat woman at the circus and she had hair all over her chin?" begged Isidor Feinberg, reminiscently.
"No," said Stuart. "I'll tell you, let's talk about the King of the World." He looked all around the room hopefully to see how the children liked that idea.
"There isn't any King of the World," said Harry Jamieson in disgust.
"What's the diff?" said Stuart. "There ought to be one."
"Kings are old-fashioned," said Harry.
"Well, all right then, let's talk about the Chairman of the World. The world gets into a lot of trouble because it has no chairman. I would like to be Chairman of the World myself."
"You're too small," said Mary Bendix.
"Oh, fish feathers!" said Stuart. "Size has nothing to do with it. It's temperament and ability that count. The Chairman has to have ability and he must know what's important. How many of you know what's important?"
Up went all the hands.
"Very good," said Stuart, cocking one leg across the other and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Henry Rackmeyer, you tell us what is important."
"A shaft of sunlight at the end of a dark afternoon, a note in music, and the way the back of a baby's neck smells if its mother keeps it tidy," answered Henry.
"Correct," said Stuart. "Those are the important things. You forgot one thing, though. Mary Bendix, what did Henry Rackmeyer forget?"
"He forgot ice cream with chocolate sauce on it," said Mary quickly.
"Exactly," said Stuart. "Ice cream is important. Well now, if I'm going to be Chairman of the World this morning, we've got to have some rules, otherwise it will be too confusing, with everyone running every which way and helping himself to things and nobody behaving. We've got to have some laws if we're going to play this game. Can anybody suggest any good laws for the world?"
Albert Fernstrom raised his hand. "Don't eat mushrooms, they might be toadstools," suggested Albert.
"That's not a law," said Stuart, "that's merely a bit of friendly advice. Very good advice, Albert, but advice and law are not the same. Law is much more solemn than advice. Law is extremely solemn. Anybody else think of a law for the world?"