Freddy the Pied Piper (14 page)

“Uh-uh,” said Leo. “Oh no, thank you most to pieces. My Uncle Ajax always used to tell me: never have money dealings with your friends. There's nothing that breaks up friendship as quick as money. Why I could tell you cases—”

“Sure, sure,” Freddy interrupted. “But that doesn't help me any. I've got to find some way to get him to take that money. I wish he wasn't so proud.”

“All the Boomschmidts were proud,” said Leo. “I remember my Uncle Ajax telling me about our Mr. Boomschmidt's father, Ulysses X. Boomschmidt, when he had the circus. He was so proud that when the show was over and people were coming out, if he heard anybody say they hadn't enjoyed it, he'd rush right up and give them their money back. Sometimes he'd even give 'em a dollar extra—‘to pay you for the time you've wasted,' he'd say with a low bow. Sometimes, when the applause hadn't been very loud during the show, he'd get thinking that maybe nobody had enjoyed it, and he'd give everybody their money back. Finally it got so he paid out lots of times more than he'd taken in, because some people would come out of the big tent two or three times. If the old man hadn't retired, the show would have gone bust.”

“That's very interesting,” said Freddy, “but it still doesn't help. I guess I'd better go down and talk to Mr. Weezer.”

It wasn't a very good day to go to Centerboro. Although it was well along in March, the long awaited thaw had only just begun. But it had begun in earnest. A warm rain was melting the snow and turning the fields to ponds and the road to a river. Freddy hadn't been able to persuade Hank to take him down in the old phaeton. “ 'Twon't do my rheumatism any good to get my feet wet,” the horse said. So Freddy borrowed Mrs. Bean's second best umbrella and splashed off down the road.

It wasn't a very good day to get advice, either. Mr. Weezer gave one of his rare dry laughs when he heard Freddy's problem. “It's a very unusual case,” he said. “Mostly people come to consult me about how to get money
out
of other folks' pockets without their noticing it—not how to put it in. I don't see what I can do, Freddy; it's completely out of my line.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “If you want to start up the circus, I guess you'll have to accept the partnership.”

“I can't let Mr. Boomschmidt down,” said Freddy. “I'd better draw my money out and start for Virginia right away, then.”

“If you get into any difficulties, remember the Centerboro bank is behind you,” said Mr. Weezer. “We're all pretty grateful to you for the mouse job.” He got the money in crackly new twenty dollar bills, and Freddy tucked it into the inside pocket of the old coat.

“Won't it be pretty dangerous, traveling with all that money?” the banker asked.

“Nobody'd rob a pig,” Freddy said. “Besides Jerry and Leo are going along; nobody would tackle them.”

He thanked Mr. Weezer and went over to the jail. The prisoners felt pretty bad when they heard that Jerry was going to leave them. They had made a saddle for him, and on good days they took turns riding him around the jail yard. The sheriff didn't want them to take him out on the road until they had found some way of steering him, for his mouth was so tough that an ordinary horse bit was no good—a strong man, pulling on the rein, couldn't pull his head around; and his eyesight was so poor that he was always running into things. One of the prisoners had got badly bruised when Jerry had run full tilt into a large elm tree.

Jerry was glad to be going back to Virginia, and so was Leo. “ 'Tisn't that I don't like it here, Freddy,” the lion said. “You've treated me fine—taken me right in like one of the family. But Mr. Boomschmidt is going to need me. And then … well, I've been here six weeks, and you know, my Uncle Ajax used to say that a week was long enough to visit anybody. In a week you can say all you've got to say; after that you begin repeating yourself and telling your stories over again. Uncle Ajax said that if you didn't get thrown out, you at least wore out your welcome.”

“Nonsense,” said Freddy; “you could stay here all your life and not wear out your welcome. But we've got a lot of work waiting for us in Virginia. I'd like to wait till the roads dry out, but I guess we ought to start tomorrow morning.”

That afternoon Freddy walked up to the duck pond. It had stopped raining, and the snow was nearly all gone from the pasture, and all around him as he went squelching up the slope, the whole hillside chuckled and chirped with running water. Uncle Wesley was sitting by his front door, shivering a little and looking very glum, and when he saw Freddy he got up and came to meet him.

“I know you're going to say it,” he said gloomily. “But I wish you wouldn't.”

“Say what?”

“‘Fine weather for ducks.' So many people feel they must say that when it's wet, and I can't tell you how tired I am of it.”

“I wasn't going to say anything of the kind,” said Freddy. “I just dropped in to see how your patient was getting on.”

“Hoo! That Edward!” said Uncle Wesley disgustedly. “Will you believe me, my friend, when I tell you that that wretch has so insinuated himself into the good graces of my dear nieces that their old uncle is no longer of any account in his own home? Sits there like a—like a king, in
my
house, and allows them to lavish on him all the little attentions that should be the due of their devoted uncle, who has repeatedly sacrificed himself for their welfare. All my little comforts—the down cushion in front of the fire—‘Edward must sit there, dear uncle; he doesn't feel well.' ‘Edward must sleep now, uncle; we must be quiet.' Even the guest room has been given to him. I sleep in the kitchen! The kitchen! Me!

“Ah, ingratitude, ingratitude!” Uncle Wesley declaimed. “It has made me a stranger in my own home!”

“Why don't you throw him out?” Freddy asked. “You're bigger than he is.”

Uncle Wesley nodded his head slowly. “I have thought of that,” he said. “Yes, even I, who have always preached that violence in any form is vulgar and inexcusable, have been tempted to use force. But I cannot but feel that a dignified forbearance is the only course open to a gentleman. The example I have given my nieces, the standard I have set for them, has been a high one. I cannot bring myself to be guilty of conduct which I have taught them to condemn. Even at the cost of my comfort—yes, of my self-respect, I must not lower myself in their eyes.”

“You seem to have got yourself pretty well lowered anyway,” Freddy said. “Personally, if things are as you say, I'd have a lot more respect for you if you pulled some of this fellow's tail-feathers out.”

Uncle Wesley smiled condescendingly. “Yes, you would think of that. But I have never yet cared to win a cheap notoriety by acts of vulgar violence.”

Freddy said: “Yeah?” and grinned. And just then Edward, followed by Alice and Emma, came out. And certainly, Freddy thought, the roles had changed. For now it was Alice and Emma who simpered bashfully, while Edward acted almost as self-important as Uncle Wesley.

“Good morning, Freddy; good morning,” said Edward. “I was just going to escort Cousins Alice and Emma down to the barnyard. First day we've been able to get out. Shall we go down with you?”

“‘Cousin,' eh?” Freddy thought. “Well, well!” He said: “Sure, we'll go on down.”

Uncle Wesley moved away and stood on the bank, looking down at the water with dignity and an occasional shiver, while Edward, with Alice on one side and Emma on the other, preceded him down the hill.

“I suppose you've quite recovered from your frostbite, Edward?” Freddy said.

Edward stopped. “You girls go along,” he said. “We'll follow you.” He fell in beside Freddy. “Sure,” he said. “I'm all right now.”

“Got your eyes open, anyhow,” said Freddy with a grin.

The duck said: “Nice little house the girls have here, isn't it? Lots nicer than the coop I have at Witherspoons'.”

“Very nice,” said Freddy drily. “Made up your mind which one you want to marry yet?”

“Oh, that!” Edward said. He looked doubtfully at the pig, then gave a chuckle. “Frankly, old chap, I've rather given up the idea of marriage. You see, if I do say it that shouldn't, they've got very fond of me. And if I chose one, d'ye see, the other would be pretty disappointed. I hate to give pain. So-o-o,—well, I thought I'd just stay on for a while as a guest. They've given me a very nice guest room and bring me my breakfast every morning. We're all cousins together—a happy family, you might say.”

“So I might,” said Freddy. “But you're Mr. Witherspoon's duck. Won't he want you back?”

“You know old Witherspoon—how tight he is,” said Edward. “If I'm getting three meals a day that he doesn't have to pay for, he'll be satisfied. No, Freddy,” he said seriously, “they've really adopted me as a cousin, and it's pretty nice having a family. I was brought up by a hen, you know—always had to play with chickens—had no brothers or sisters, no family life at all.”

“I suppose that was what made you so bashful,” said Freddy. “You seem to have got over it pretty well.”

“That's a funny thing, Freddy. I don't say I've got over it entirely. But when folks are as nice and considerate as Alice and Emma are,—well, your bashfulness kind of goes away.”

Freddy wondered if Edward had really been as bashful as he made out, but he didn't say so. When they got down to the barnyard, Alice and Emma took charge of their new cousin, and took him to call on all their friends. They would introduce him, and then they would stand back and admire him, nodding proudly at each other every time he opened his bill to say “Pleased to meet you,” as if he had uttered words of the most profound wisdom. They treated him, indeed, very much as they had used to treat Uncle Wesley, in the old days before they had found out what a pompous old fraud he really was. But what really bothered the animals was the way they fluttered and tittered. They acted downright silly.

Jinx got Alice aside after a while and asked her bluntly when the wedding was to be, and who was to be the happy bride.

Alice bridled. “Oh, that nonsense!” she said.

“I thought he'd fallen in love with you both,” he said.

“Oh, dear, no; that was all just a joke, that valentine. We understood that, Jinx. And you know, neither of us would want to get married. And having a husband around—goodness, look at Henrietta and all the trouble she has with that Charles!”

Later Jinx and Freddy and Mrs. Wiggins talked it over. It was very nice for Edward to have a comfortable home and be waited on hand and foot, but it was kind of hard on poor Uncle Wesley.

“I hate to see Emma and Alice acting so silly,” Freddy said. “When really that Edward is just imposing on them.”

“He's too fresh,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I can't abide a fresh duck.”

“You said the other day you couldn't abide a bashful duck,” Jinx said. “Make up your mind, cow.”

“I can't stand either of 'em,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “This Edward seems to be two ducks, and I don't like either of them.”

“How about roast duck?” said Jinx.

“My goodness, that gives me an idea!” Freddy said. “Look, do we really want to get rid of Edward?”

They agreed that they did. So that afternoon Freddy walked up into the woods and then swung around down to the duck pond as if he was coming from Witherspoons'. Alice and Emma and Edward were testing the water of the pond with their feet, undecided whether to go for the first swim of the season or not. Alice and Emma giggled and gave little quacking squeals, and Alice splashed water on Edward. “You're so brave, Edward,” she said. “I know you're just pretending. You're just laughing at us poor timid girls!” Uncle Wesley sat gloomily on the bank with his back to them.

“Hi, Edward!” Freddy called. “Come here a minute. Look,” he said in a low urgent voice. “I was just over at Witherspoons' and they were looking for you.”

“Let 'em look,” said Edward with a grin.

“O.K,” said Freddy. “But from what they said, I think they know where you are. And there's something else they said too.” He hesitated. “I hardly know how to tell you. But I must. It's Mrs. Witherspoon's birthday tomorrow, and—well, they're planning on roast duck for the birthday dinner.”

Edward gave kind of a chattering quack, and staggered a little as he looked with consternation at the pig.

“They spoke of—of sage and onions,” said Freddy sadly.

Edward stood perfectly still for a minute. Then he looked up suddenly at Freddy. “Say goodbye to everybody for me,” he said, and then spread his wings and with a whoosh! was gone over the treetops.

“Gracious!” Emma exclaimed. “Where's Cousin Edward going? It's almost dinner time.”

“Yes,” Freddy said. “That's what I told him.”