“All right, George,” Susan said. But she thought, “Poor George! I think it would be easier for all of our feelings if we took the cage in and forgot about Dickie.”
“Susie,” Dumpling said, as they went slowly back to the house, “I was trying to be very, very good, Susie.”
“I know, Dumpling,” Susan said sadly, “but maybe you shouldn’t try so very, very hard.”
In the house Tommy Tucker and Dorothy were working at Tommy’s chemistry. There was no football game that weekend so they had extra time to work. Mid-term exams started on Monday.
“Tommy, do you think you’ll be able to play in the Homecoming game?” asked Susan anxiously.
“I hope,” said Tommy.
Dorothy said, “Now, am-scray, kids. The duffer’s got to work.”
“He isn’t a duffer, he’s a quarterback, Dorothy,” Susan corrected politely. But Dorothy rarely took time to be polite.
“He’s a duffer to me,” she said, “until he learns his chemistry. Now, scram!”
The Ridgeway children went quietly to bed. Tonight they had unusual anxieties on their minds. Will Dickie know enough to go South all by himself? Will Tommy Tucker be able to crash the mid-term line? Will formula K2Cr2O7 throw him for a fifty-yard loss? What are his chances for making a touchdown in chemistry? Will the wind seem very cold in the bare branches of the winter trees? When one is used to birdseed and water in little cups, how will one find food in the gray November woods? And will the Homecoming game be played without Tommy Tucker?
They tried to remember that Halloween and Homecoming fell on the same night and were only a week away. But even that thought did not cheer them, unless they could be sure that Tommy would be allowed to play.
When Mother came up later to see that they were all properly covered and asleep, she noticed that George had not succeeded in washing all the tear stains off his face. She stood still and looked down at George, and she was sorry because the loss of Dickie had made George unhappy. As she looked she became aware of a kind of heaving and wallowing motion along the bedclothes at the foot of the bed. Something large seemed to be moving around there. Then a familiar wham! wham! wham! told her what it was.
“Terence,” Mother said in a firm but quiet voice so that she would not awaken George. “Terence, you do not belong up here. You get right down and go to your bed in the carriage house.”
Terence did not get down right away, but he looked at Mother with large, pleading eyes. “George was very lonely and sad tonight, Mother,” Terence’s large, pleading eyes said. His tail went wham! wham! wham!
Mrs. Ridgeway paused. She gave a reluctant sigh. Then she shut her eyes tight and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her. I didn’t see a thing, she said to herself, this one night.
Mice and Flowers
On the morning of the mid-term examination in chemistry even Dorothy seemed to be nervous and excited. They had never seen Dorothy worried before, and it was troubling to observe that she could forget to put salt in the oatmeal and could leave the coffee percolating for fifteen minutes instead of the usual eight and a half.
“Are you scared you’ll fail, too, Dorothy?” asked Susan.
“Me?” said Dorothy, putting the dish towel neatly into the breadbox and the loaf of bread behind the stove. “No, I’m not scared, not at all. But that crazy big bozo, what’s he going to do? Is he going to forget everything I tried to pound into him, or what?”
“I think he will remember,” Susan said.
“I don’t know,” Dorothy said. “Sometimes I wonder, and in an examination I can’t help him, I can’t tell him. I can’t even lift an eyebrow or wiggle a toe to help him to remember.”
Dumpling came in from outdoors. Her eyes looked round and blue behind her shiny glasses. “Susie, do you know what?” she said.
“No, what?” said Susan absently.
“The birdseed is gone out of the cup in the birdcage, Susie!”
“Was Dickie there?”
“No-o,” said Dumpling. “But, Susie, the birdseed was gone.”
“Was the cage still on the ground?”
“Yes.”
“Then it was mice,” Susan said, “and don’t tell George, Dumpling, because it will just remind him and make him feel bad all over again.”
“All right, Susie,” Dumpling said.
Susan went upstairs to make her bed and get her books for school, but Dumpling stood still and thought. I was not good to canaries, Dumpling said to herself, but I can be very, very good to mice. She went to the cupboard and got the birdseed package. She took it out behind the carriage house and carefully filled the birdseed cup and put the cup back in the open cage. She filled the water cup, too. That would not stay quite full because the cage was lying on its side, but it could be partly filled without spilling, and Dumpling thought that the mice might like water as well as seed. After she had done this Dumpling looked up into the yellow tree. The breeze was swaying the yellow leaves, and one could almost imagine a yellow bird darting and fluttering there.
“Oh, Dickie, come back,” Dumpling said. “I’m sorry I let you go.” But only the leaves rustled, and there was not the twitter of a bird to be heard anywhere.
“Dumpling!” Susan called. “Time to get started for school, honey.”
That afternoon, after the chemistry examination was over, Tommy walked home with Dorothy. The three Ridgeway children were watching for them, and they ran out to meet them. Everybody felt the terrible uncertainty and suspense.
“When will you know if you passed?” asked Susan.
“Not until Friday morning,” Dorothy said. “It seems a long time.”
“How do you think you did, Tommy?” asked George.
“It didn’t seem hard,” Tommy said, “but then exams never do seem hard to me. It’s only afterward that I find out.”
“But he wrote a lot, didn’t you, Tommy?” Dorothy said. “I know he can do it. I’m sure it was all right.”
“Do you really think so?” Tommy asked.
“Yes, I do!” Dorothy said. She said it in that business-like way she had of speaking, and they all felt happier to have Dorothy say so. “Dorothy, I like you,” Susan said. She had never been sure before. Dumpling came up beside Dorothy and took hold of her hand.
Later that afternoon the Ridgeway children saw Professor Jones of the Chemistry Department coming home with a bulging briefcase. “He’s got it!” George said. “He’s got the examination papers. Susan, let’s go over and find out.”
“He doesn’t care much for us, or football either,” Susan said, “but I suppose we can try.”
Mrs. Jones let them in with a look of doubt on her face. “He’s got papers to correct,” she said. “I don’t think I’d go in there if I were you. Examination papers make him very cross.”
“But that’s why we came,” Susan said. “It’s about the papers.”
They stood before Professor Jones in his study, and Susan said, “Please, sir, Mister-Professor-Doctor Jones—” She thought that if she used all his titles it might help to make him less cross.
“Someone has been picking my late chrysanthemums,” said Mr. Jones accusingly. He was enthroned behind an amazing pile of examination books and he frowned sternly. “They are just beginning to bloom and they shouldn’t be cut until frost, and someone has picked off two of the most promising—”
“We don’t know who it was,” said George. “It wasn’t us.”
“We’re very sorry about your late chrysanthemums, Doctor Jones,” Susan said.
“Just let me catch the culprit,” Professor Jones said, “or culprits, as the case may be!”
“What we wanted to find out, please—” Susan said, but Professor Jones went on, “And furthermore, I see that you have recently acquired a dog. Now a dog is tolerable in its place, I daresay, and I can bear to see it grinning at me across the back fence. But if ever the said dog trespasses upon my property there is going to be trouble. And I don’t mean maybe!
”
“Yes, Mister-Professor-Doctor Jones,” said Susan as politely as she was able under the circumstances.
“What we wanted to know—” said George, but just then the telephone on Professor Jones’s desk rang.
“Hello,” Professor Jones roared. “Athletic Department? No, this is Jones of Chemistry. Oh, you mean you’re calling from the Athletic Department? Why don’t you say so then? Tucker? Tucker? I have no student named Tucker. Tokar-ynski? Yes, I have a student with that barbarous name, but I won’t be rushed. I can tell you right now he has probably failed. No, that is not definite. I said probably, and I won’t be rushed.” He banged the receiver down.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” said Susan still as politely as she could. “We didn’t mean to rush you, Doctor Jones. But it was just to find out if Tokarynski passed.”
“Who is this chap Tokarynski?” Professor Jones bellowed.
“Oh,” Susan cried, “the greatest football player Midwest ever had, Doctor Jones.” And George said, “He’s a quarterback.”
“Well, I can tell you he’s no chemist,” said Professor Jones.
“But now,” cried Susan, as she and George retreated toward the door, “now, he’s learned to study! He’s learned to study since the last exam.”
“Scram,” said Dr. Jones. He said it just as Dorothy did, only he didn’t add, “Am-scray!” The Ridgeways scrammed.
“What did you find out?” asked Dorothy and Dumpling who had stayed at home.
“We didn’t find out anything,” George said. And Susan added sadly, “Examinations make him cross.”
“We’ll have to wait until Friday,” Dorothy said, “when the grades will be posted.”
“How many days until Friday, Susie?” asked Dumpling.
“Count on your fingers,” Susan said. “It’s four.”
“Four days is long,” Dumpling said.
Just then the doorbell rang. Susan and George and Dumpling ran to the door, and there stood the Terrible Torrences with bunches of flowers in their hands.
“Hello,” said George. “What have you got there?”
“They are chrysanthemum-mums,” said Alvin. And Rudy said, “Mum-mum-mums.”
“What are you doing with them?”
“We are selling them,” Alvin said, and Rudy said, “Ask your mama will she buy some nice fresh flowers.”
“Just picked,” said Alvin. And Rudy said, “Fresh.”
“How much?” asked Susan.
“Whatever you want to pay,” Alvin said, and Rudy said, “A dollar or ten cents or whatever you have handy.”
“Mother,” Susan called, “would you like to buy a nice bunch of fresh flowers for ten cents?”
“Not today, dear,” Mother called back.
“Why are you selling flowers?” asked George.
“To get money,” Alvin said. And Rudy said, “We are selling flowers to get money to give to you so that you can feed Terence.”
“My goodness!” cried the Ridgeways in surprise.
“We are very nice little boys today,” said Alvin. And Rudy said, “Like you told in the story, Susie.”
“Well, for goodness sake!” said Susan in even greater surprise. “Just a minute, Alvin and Rudy,” Susan ran back in the house to consult Mother. “Mother!” she said, “the Terrible Torrences are trying to do something noble and good for once. I think we ought to help them.”
“What are they doing?” asked Mother in alarm.
“They are selling flowers to get money to give to us to buy food for Terence!”
“But how wonderful!” cried Mother. “This I must see!”
She went to the door and looked down into the gentle and pious faces of the Terrible Torrences.
“Why, how very nice!” Mother said. “Quick, run for my purse, Susan.”
“But, Mother,” said George reasonably, “if we buy flowers from Alvin and Rudy so that they can give money to us, it really doesn’t help us to feed Terence.”
“That is so,” Mother said. “Susan, you’d better not get my purse after all, dear.”
“But it’s a good idea,” George said to the Torrences, “only you’d better go on down the street and sell the flowers to the other neighbors, and then you can bring the money back to us.”
“Okay,” said Alvin. And Rudy said, “We are very nice little boys today!”
“Are you very, very good?” asked Dumpling enviously.
“I think so,” Alvin said. And Rudy said, “Sure, you bet.”
“Professor Jones next door is very fond of chrysanthemums,” Mother said. “Perhaps Mrs. Jones would like to buy some.”
The Torrences looked doubtful. “Perhaps not,” Alvin said. And Rudy said, “But we can try.”
It was only after the Terrible Torrences had gone on down the street that Mother suddenly said, “Weren’t some of Professor Jones’s chrysanthemums exactly that shade of yellow?” And at the same moment George and Susan cried, “And somebody had been picking them!”
Dumpling sighed. “The Terrible Torrences were trying to be very, very good,” she said.
“We had better go and see what happens,” Susan said. And George cried, “Boy! Oh boy!”
Mrs. Jones had gone upstairs to sew, and when the doorbell rang Professor Jones had to leave his examination papers and answer it himself. This made him feel even crosser than he had been a few moments ago.
Susan and George and Dumpling caught up with the Terrible Torrences just as Professor Jones opened the door.
“Well,” he roared, “what do you want?”
“We are selling flowers,” said Alvin. And Rudy said, “We will sell you a bunch for anything you want to give, a dollar or ten cents or fifty-five cents or anything you have handy.”
“Hmm!” said Professor Jones, soothed for a moment by the beauty of the flowers that the little Torrence boys were holding out to him. “Those are very fine specimens. Where did you get hold of flowers like those?”
“Down that-a-way,” said Alvin, pointing in the general direction of the Jones’s backyard. And Rudy said, “There are lots more where we got those. We can get you more.”
A red wave of anger and suspicion surged across Professor Jones’s countenance. “Down which-a-way?” he thundered in a voice that was full of emotion.
“Down that-a-way,” said Rudy and Alvin together, pointing toward Professor Jones’s backyard.
Professor Jones gave a cry that was between rage and anguish. “My chrysanthemums!” he cried. “My beautiful chrysanthemums!”
Too late the Terrible Torrences decided that they should not have tried to sell Professor Jones his own chrysanthemums. They turned and started to run, but there were the interested Ridgeways standing behind them and blocking their retreat. Professor Jones caught Alvin by the back of his shirt with one hand and Rudy by the back of his shirt with the other hand.
“Scram!” he roared to the Ridgeways, who scattered hastily out of the professor’s path, and then closed in again behind as he marched Alvin and Rudy down the street to their home.
“Ring the doorbell for me, Dumpling, if you please,” Professor Jones said.
“Okay,” said Dumpling.
While they were waiting for Mrs. Torrence to answer the bell, Susan said, “Please, Professor Jones, I think they were trying to do good. They were going to give the money they earned to us to feed our dog.”
“Dogs!” snorted Professor Jones. “Haven’t I told you that I detest dogs?”
Mrs. Torrence looked frightened when she saw so many people at her front door. “Oh dear!” she cried, “whatever have they done now?”
“Madam,” said Professor Jones, “they have picked my late chrysanthemums!”
“Oh, that was bad of them!”
“The question is,” said Professor Jones, “how are they going to repay me for my loss?”
“Oh, dear!” Mrs. Torrence said, “I’ll pay you whatever you ask, Mr. Jones.”
“Not you, Madam,” said Pr
ofessor Jones. “You did not pick my choice chrysanthemums. But these boys did. They’re not babies! They are big enough to know better. What are they going to do about it?”
Alvin and Rudy looked at Professor Jones, and Susan could not decide whether they were about to burst into tears or to shout “Yah! Yah! Yah!” and run away on a chase. What they did surprised her even more. For Alvin said, “We can wash dishes for you, Mr. Jones.” And Rudy said, “We can wipe them, too.”
“It entails a frightful risk to Mrs. Jones’s china,” said Professor Jones, “but nevertheless I accept your offer. You may begin tonight, and you may wash our dishes every night for an entire week. At the end of that time, if you have conducted yourselves like young gentlemen I shall consider that you have paid me for the loss of my flowers, and I shall absolve you from any further blame.”
“But they have never done dishes at home,” cried Mrs. Torrence. “They’ve never done a thing to help. They won’t know how at all.”
“Then Mrs. Jones shall teach them,” said Professor Jones. “I’ll expect them tonight at six forty-five.” And having said this, Professor Jones turned about and stalked away to his own house.
The Terrible Torrences always did the unexpected thing, and now they seemed quite pleased with themselves.
“Susan, we’ve got a job,” Alvin said. And Rudy said, “We’ve got a job to wash the Jones’s dishes, just like you’ve got a job to babysit with us.”
“Yes,” Susan said, “you’ve got a job and you had better do it well and carefully. But I’ll tell you something; and that is that my babysitting days are all over.”
“Why, Susan?” they asked.
“Because you are big enough to look after yourselves.”
“No more stories?” they asked sadly.
“I’ll tell you stories when you come over to my house,” Susan said, “if you will stop being terrible and acting like spoiled babies.”
“Oh!” said the Terrible Torrences thoughtfully.
After supper Dumpling went out to put more birdseed in the birdseed cup. The mice or something had taken quite a lot of the seed that she had put into it that morning.