Boys in Control

  “You're not going to watch the rest of the game?” Mrs. Malloy asked in surprise.

  “I can't!” Caroline wailed softly. “I've got butterflies in my stomach. But I don't want Eddie to know I've left, so I'm just going to slide through the bleachers. You'll have to tell me about it afterwards.”

  Her mother understood. “All right,” she said. “I don't want you fainting dramatically if Eddie misses a ball. I'm sure Wally can use you.” She helped Caroline slip down to the ground below. Beth and Coach Malloy didn't even notice that she had gone.

  It was very warm for a day in May, and instead of her usual jeans and T-shirt, Caroline had put on a sundress that morning. If she was going to be a security guard at the Hatfords', people were going to see her. And if people were going to be noticing her, she wanted to look her best. She hurried down the sidewalk toward the Hatfords’ house but hardly recognized it when she got there.

  It looked like a junkyard. An organized junkyard. Every square inch of ground, it seemed, had a table on it with a sign listing prices for those items. There were aprons and axes, teddy bears and ties. A hand-lettered sign at the bottom of the driveway said SALE BEGINS AT NOON.

  Already, however, there were a few browsers wandering among the tables, fingering the embroidered bedspreads, checking the price on a cake pan, measuring the width of a plant stand, or trying on a raincoat. Mrs. Larson hovered over the cash box and tried to keep an eye on everyone at once.

  “Hi,” said Wally, and followed that up with, “Where are the pictures?”

  “I couldn't bring them now, Wally, because I came from the game. I didn't think you'd want me taking them there,” said Caroline.

  “If you don't give them to me, Caroline…,” Wally said threateningly.

  “I will! I promise!” Caroline said.

  Mrs. Larson called them over and handed Wally a Polaroid camera. “I want you to take a picture of every table before we start the sale,” she said, half shouting because she could hardly hear herself. “We want to put them in our auxiliary newsletter so the women can see what wonderful donations we had this year. The people of Buckman have never been more generous.”

  Caroline and Wally wandered up and down the rows of folding tables, checking to see that all was well and pausing while Wally took pictures of table after table. As the photos came out of the camera and began to develop, it appeared that Caroline had somehow managed to be in each one, looking directly into the camera and smiling.

  The sugar bowl and creamer from Susan Kemp, the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, the copper lamp from Edna Ballinger, the ceramic figurines from the Wheelers…a place for everything, and everything in its place. All the while Mrs. Larson, whose voice carried all over the yard, chattered away with neighbors who had come by to check out the sale.

  A woman in a blue jacket came up to a display and smiled at Caroline. She smiled at Wally. Then she began walking around the tables, not stopping to look at much of anything until she saw the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, showing two stern-looking elderly people in rocking chairs. She picked it up and examined the back.

  Over she came to Wally and took a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. “I'll take this, please,” she said. “The price says fifteen dollars.”

  “The sale doesn't start till noon,” Wally said. “We're just letting people look.”

  “But I can't come back at noon,” the woman said. She put the twenty-dollar bill on the table where the framed photograph had been.

  “I can't sell it now. I can't give you change,” Wally said, reaching for the photograph. “It's against the rules.” He looked over at Mrs. Larson, hoping she would come and talk to the woman. But Mrs. Larson had her back to them and was chatting with someone else. When Wally turned toward the woman in the blue jacket again, she was walking down the driveway, the framed photo in her arms, the twenty-dollar bill left behind.

  Caroline saw, and shrugged. “What can we do, Wally? She wanted it, she got it. She paid for it, after all, and the auxiliary gets to keep the change.”

  “I suppose so,” said Wally. He picked up the twenty-dollar bill and walked beside Caroline to Mrs. Larson. They waited politely while Mrs. Larson said goodbye to the woman she'd been talking with and that woman turned to go.

  Caroline nudged Wally. “Get a look at those bright red toenails,” she giggled.

  Wally turned and stared at the woman who had been talking with Mrs. Larson. Then he turned some more and saw her catch up farther down the sidewalk with the woman who had taken the framed photo.

  Suddenly Wally grabbed Caroline's arm. “Caroline!” he gasped. “It's them!”

  “Who?” asked Caroline.

  “The women who tried to get in our house. The last time I saw them, the one with the photograph was wearing a pink jacket. And I'd recognize the red toe-nails on the other one anywhere.”

  “They must want that framed picture really bad,” said Caroline.

  “Yeah, but why? They must know something about it that Jenny Bloomer didn't know. Follow them!” Wally said.

  “What?” said Caroline.

  “You've got to follow them and see where they go! We might have to get that picture back.”

  “Are you serious?” Caroline asked. She had come over to be a security guard and now she was a detective?

  “Go!” Wally said. “I can't leave here till Mom gets back.”

  “I'm going!” said Caroline. “What am I supposed to do if I catch up with them? Bring the picture back?”

  Wally wasn't sure. His mother had said no one was to buy anything before the sale opened. “I guess so,” he said. “At least find out where they live.”

  Caroline took off. This, she decided, was a lot more exciting than watching a baseball game. Even a championship game. Far off on the school ball field, she could hear the crowd cheer, then cheer again. Did that mean a hit for the Badgers? Or was it the fans for the Grafton Grangers who were doing the cheering?

  No matter, she told herself. Keep your eyes on that blue jacket, but don't let them know you're following them. If she was ever given the part of a girl detective, she'd know what it felt like. They turned, Caroline turned. They went up an alley, Caroline went up an alley. At last they went around a corner and up the steps of Mrs. Ritter's Bed and Breakfast. As soon as they were inside, Caroline, too, bounded up the front steps.

  Flattening herself against the wall just outside the screen door, she heard a woman's voice call from far inside the house, “Did you have a nice walk, ladies?”

  “It was lovely, Mrs. Ritter,” one of the women answered, and when Caroline peered around the corner, she saw them going up the big oak staircase to the second floor.

  Her heart was thumping hard inside her chest. She softly opened the screen door and slipped inside. She heard an electric mixer back in the kitchen, and she smelled cinnamon as something baked in the oven.

  Caroline crossed the oriental rug in the hallway and made her way upstairs, keeping her feet close to the wall, where the steps were less likely to creak.

  Even before she reached the top, she could hear the women's excited voices from one of the guest rooms.

  “We're in luck, Dorothy. If we'd waited for the sale to begin, who knows who could have walked off with this!” said one.

  “By the time Jenny finds out—”

  “Why does she have to know? We're the ones who found the letter in Mother's things. What our cousin doesn't know won't hurt her. That's what she gets for giving away family pictures.”

  “Hurry up, Marva,” the other woman said. “What did the letter say? Just that something of great value was hidden behind the backing?”

  “Yes, and we're about to find out what it is,” said the first woman. “See how it bulges out back here? You can feel that something's in there, but you probably wouldn't know just by looking. The letter said it was an heirloom the family would want to keep forever.”

  “Do you need a nail file or scissors or something?”
>
  “No, I can slide the paper open with my finger and work it off the frame. Something's in here, all right.”

  Okay, Caroline told herself, peeping carefully around the door frame. Be ready. Whatever's in the back of the picture frame, I've got to grab it and take it to Wally.

  “I'm so nervous!” said the woman in the blue jacket, and then there was the sound of glue pulling away from the wooden frame, and a thick white packet fell out.

  Now! Caroline thought.

  Like a racehorse from the starting gate, she tore into the room. The women gave startled cries, turning to stare wildly at her. Caroline snatched up the white packet, and with a “Sorry, not for sale,” she went streaking out again and down the stairs.

  The women shrieked. There was the sound of footsteps coming down the hall after her, then down the stairs. Caroline didn't stop.

  “Catch her!” screamed one of the women, but Caroline was out the door and down the steps, the two women thundering along behind.

  Down the street she ran, around a corner, through an alley. On the women came. She had to hide. She could probably outrun them if she really tried, but she was getting out of breath. She turned a corner and saw a gas station up ahead. Making a sharp turn beyond the station, she ran along one side into the rest room and locked the door behind her.

  Breathing hard, Caroline listened for the women's footsteps, and it wasn't long before she heard them coming. They came around the corner, then slowed, and finally stopped not far from the rest room door.

  “Where did she go?” one woman cried.

  “Who was she?” asked the other, panting. “Never on this earth have I—”

  “The little thief !”

  “She must have known all along what we were after.”

  “How could she? We don't even know what was in there!”

  Caroline leaned against the wall in the rest room, her heart thumping painfully. Then slowly, silently, she looked at the white packet in her hands. It appeared to be thin cloth, old cotton, perhaps, and gently she began to unfold it. Layer after layer began to fall away until finally, there in her hands, Caroline found a pair of old-fashioned underpants that reached from the waist all the way down to the ankles, with elastic at the top and bottoms.

  Caroline stared. Jenny Bloomer had contributed a picture frame with a pair of women's underpants hidden in the back? Was this a joke or what?

  She didn't know. All she knew was that the two women had wanted what was in that picture frame very badly. So whoever these underpants belonged to, they must be very valuable, and it was Caroline's job to see that they were returned to their rightful owner. If she went outside and the women were still there, they would snatch them away from her, she was sure.

  Suddenly Caroline knew what to do. She thrust her left foot into the left leg of the underpants. Then she thrust her right foot into the right leg. She pulled the garment up under her sundress and tugged at the elastic around the ankles until the material had bunched up to her knees. Then, the strange underpants swishing against her legs, she opened the door a crack and peered out. The women were walking back toward Mrs. Ritter's Bed and Breakfast, talking and gesturing wildly.

  Slowly Caroline emerged. Slowly, stiffly, she walked back along College Avenue to the Hatfords’ house as more cheering came from the baseball field. Her hair was wet with sweat, her face flushed. One strap of her sundress had slipped down off her shoulder, and one shoe was untied.

  Wally saw her coming. He and Mrs. Larson took a few steps forward.

  “Gracious! What excitement!” Mrs. Larson exclaimed. “Those two women had no right coming in here and taking that picture! Jenny Bloomer wanted us to have it for our sale, and everyone should have an equal chance to buy it.”

  “Did you find out why they wanted it? Did you get what they were after?” asked Wally.

  Caroline nodded, and while Wally and Mrs. Larson stared, she simply hiked up her sundress to show the long cotton underpants bunched around her knees.

  Nineteen

  Amelia B.

  Wally saw his opportunity. He raised the Polaroid camera and took a picture. Then he started to laugh.

  Caroline's face reddened even more as she dropped her dress.

  “That?” Wally guffawed as Mrs. Larson kept staring. “ That's what was hidden in the picture frame? Some-body's old-fashioned underpants?”

  “Let me see those!” said Mrs. Larson, going over. She reached down and felt the material that was sticking out below Caroline's sundress. “That is old muslin if I ever saw it. Why, I haven't seen cotton like that since I don't know when. It looks like something out of my grandmother's trunk.”

  Seeing that they might be valuable, Caroline stepped out of the underpants carefully and held them out for closer inspection.

  “What have we here?” Mrs. Larson cried, pointing to a hand-stitched label on the inside. “Oh, my stars! Look what it says! Amelia Bloomer! Caroline, you have just stepped out of the bloomers of the famous suffragette herself, Amelia Bloomer! Why, these belong in a museum!”

  “Those are called bloomers?” Wally asked, putting two and two together.

  “Indeed they are!” said Mrs. Larson. “These were Amelia's trademark, you might say. She wore loose trousers like this everywhere she went, sticking out of the bottom of her dress, and they were called bloomers after her. Our very own Jenny Bloomer is related, you know.”

  “Why would Amelia Bloomer want to wear things like that?” asked Caroline.

  “Because she felt that women should be able to do much more than they were allowed to do back then. She wanted them to be able to vote, to hold any jobs they liked, and to wear clothes that let them be more active. She designed her clothes herself.”

  Another cheer went up from the baseball field, and at that very moment a car drove up and Jenny Bloomer got out.

  “I knew I ought to get back before people started arriving, but I hated to leave. The score was tied,” she said. “Anyway, I'm here, so what can I do to help?”

  “You can explain these,” said Mrs. Larson with a smile, and held out the folded bloomers.

  “What's this?” asked Jenny.

  “These were sealed in the back of the framed photograph you gave to the sale. And look on the inside.”

  When Jenny Bloomer saw the embroidered name of her distant relative, she gasped. “I knew we were related, but I had no idea I had her bloomers! I didn't even know who those people in the photograph were, we've had it so long. We're moving to a smaller house and I just wanted to sort through some things.”

  “Well, they certainly made for an exciting morning for us!” said Mrs. Larson loudly. “Tell her, Wally.”

  “Two women came to the sale early—the same women who wanted to look at our sale stuff before,” said Wally. “One of them wanted the picture you donated, but I wouldn't sell it to them, so she just put a twenty-dollar bill down and made off with the picture.”

  “And I followed them to Mrs. Ritter's Bed and Breakfast and snatched the bloomers away as soon as they fell out the back of the frame,” said Caroline.

  Jenny Bloomer stared at Caroline. “Was one of those women dark-haired and the other blond?”

  “Yes,” said Wally and Caroline together.

  “Was one of those women short and the other tall?”

  “Yes,” said Wally and Caroline together.

  “And one wore red, red polish on her toenails,” offered Caroline.

  “Those are my cousins, Dorothy and Marva!” cried Jenny. “Ever since Mother died, they have been pestering me to find out if she left them anything in her will. That just seemed so greedy to me, because they didn't visit her or write to her when she was sick. So I didn't offer them any of the things I was giving away, just some boxes of letters between their mother and mine. I'll bet one of those letters mentioned something valuable hidden in one of my pictures.”

  “They did say something about a letter,” said Caroline.

  “Oh, I know I should
have read that correspondence before I gave it away, but I had so many things to sort. I felt I had to give my cousins at least something, though. They probably thought there was money hidden in that picture frame. It wouldn't surprise me if they had used Amelia's bloomers for a dust cloth.”

  Another cheer came from the direction of the ball field, and a few seconds later, still another. And then one terrific roar, followed by clapping. A few horns began to blow.

  “Well, it must be over,” said Wally. “I wonder who won.”

  A few minutes later Peter came running up the sidewalk, followed by the rest of the Hatfords, and everyone was smiling.

  “We won!” Peter cried delightedly. “The Buckman Badgers did it!”

  The Malloys came up the sidewalk after them.

  “Eddie's last hit brought in the winning run!” Beth called.

  “And Jake struck out the last batter on Grafton's team!” said Eddie.

  “It was a close game,” said Coach Malloy, “but I must say, this was one of the best ball games by any sixth graders that I've ever seen.”

  “Same here,” said Mr. Hatford. “I think Buckman will remember this one for a long, long time.”

  “Well, let the sale begin!” said Mrs. Hatford, looking around.

  “It already has,” said Wally.

  His mother looked at him. “I thought I told you not to sell anything until we opened at noon.”

  “Well, we had a little excitement while you were at the game,” said Mrs. Larson. “Two women came by and walked off with our prize offering.”

  “What?” cried Mrs. Hatford.

  “Close your eyes,” Mrs. Larson said.

  Everyone closed their eyes. After a moment, Mrs. Larson said, “Now open.” Everyone did.

  Mrs. Larson was holding the pair of bloomers against her body. The legs came down almost to her ankles.

  “What?” cried Mrs. Hatford and Mrs. Malloy together, while the men only stared.