The Curious Adventures of Jimmy McGee (7 page)

"
F-u-n!
" came the bebop answer.

"Fun, eh?" repeated Jimmy McGee dubiously.

"
Yes! F-u-n! F-u-n! F-u-n-n-y f-u-n!
" came the answer as swiftly as a flash of lightning and in perfect bebop code.

"Well," said Jimmy McGee. "I'm glad you like it, but..."

He did not say what the "but" was. He didn't want to spoil Little Lydia's fun or hurt her feelings. She must have feelings now because she could talk in bebop words and make lightning-like zigzags.

Now, what a pickle Jimmy McGee was in! How could he change an electrified bebopping doll back into a real, right, regular do-nothing doll? How could he return Little Lydia to Amy in the curious condition she was in? A former do-nothing doll had now caught the zoomie-zoomies! She had become a rare doll who could give off zigzag shafts of lightning, speak bebop, and even go bang-bang on the lid of his splendid stovepipe hat, sounding like the musician who plays the timpani in the orchestra. She was a whole orchestra unto herself already.

You don't see that type of doll in any department store, a doll who can wham-bang on the timpani and probably so loudly that she'd shudder the opera house down with the applause!

For the first time ever, Jimmy McGee forgot to make his rounds!

My, how the zoomie-zoomies had changed Little Lydia, and Jimmy McGee foresaw how this curious transformation was going to affect him and his life as a busy little plumber! He must do his best to keep this phenomenon under control!

Zoom! Zoom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Like thunder. Clang! Like a timpani! All going on, on top of him, in his stovepipe hat!

Naturally Jimmy McGee was worried. This banging showed that the magic might be catching. Not to him—he was in charge of his magic. All his rounds through the electric wires had kept his magic in perfect shape, so he would not do curious things unless he wanted to. But this was new to Little Lydia. Her strange behavior didn't bother him, not yet anyway. But, what about Amy? If she caught that magic?

Just suppose that he slipped Little Lydia back into her sand castle and laid her on her couch, as he had hoped to do. Amy would find her and joyously pick her up. Right away Amy might catch the magic and begin to do curious things. Bing! Bong! Boom!...on anything that was handy!

And suppose next she passed this magic on to her friend, Clarissa? Also to Mama and Papa? And what about the great dog Wags?

Imagine that beautiful dog catching the zoomie-zoomies. His growl already sounded like a deep, rising roll of thunder. Would he growl in bebop dog code? Sound like a bass drum? Would that dark brown-and-white wavy fur pop and sizzle and strike people with awe? If they tried to pet him, might they not catch the magic from him and begin to bark bebop or do other curious things themselves?

In fact, would all the people speak in bebop code, not only here around The Bizzy Bee, but also in the A & P even, the drugstore, sounding really curious? The Chamber of Commerce might advise people to stay away from that town! Poor Truro!

"Oh-oh-oh," groaned Jimmy McGee. "What have I wrought in my selfish search for thunder and lightning bolts? I have made Little Lydia an electrified bebopping doll. I must keep hold of her until I can cure her. Then she will speak in bebop no longer, no longer zigzag. Her hair will stop sizzling lightning. She will become a real, right do-nothing doll again, a Lydia, Little, doll, as entered in Amy's famous
Who's Who Book!
"

But the more Jimmy McGee worried, the louder Little Lydia bebopped and stomped around in his hat on top of his head!

"
Fun! Fun! Funny fun!
" she bebopped again.

"Funny. Yes, it is funny," said Jimmy McGee. In spite of his worries, Jimmy had to laugh. Who'd ever have thought this up? Have him in a pickle as curious as this?

Jimmy forgot that it was time for his next rounds! No pipes got banged that night, no shutters fastened securely, no drips in faucets stopped. Let the fish train come, let it go, lobsters and all. Jimmy McGee had sunk to the level of a do-nothing, not doll, plumber!

"Why," he asked himself, "did Little Lydia have to come into my life?" He was sitting cross-legged, brooding, in the doorway of his summer headquarters. To make a hero of him, that's why.

It was in the book, the
Who's
Who Book,
that he was a hero. Well, he
had
become a hero, right? He had rescued Little Lydia from Monstrous. Right? Wouldn't anybody think that was enough hero-making for one little plumber? Just as important as holding your finger in a hole in the dike and getting in one book after another? One book, Amy's, was enough for him!

But it was not in the book that he should, having rescued Little Lydia and become a hero, let her catch the zoomie-zoomies.

Maybe, he thought cautiously, just maybe, mind you, if Little Lydia were
out
of his hat, she'd stop that bebopping, those do-re-mis, that banging on a timpani! That's what she seemed to consider the carefully designed lid of his stovepipe hat to be.

"
I'm in prison
!" she bebopped now. "
In your stovepipe hat. In darkness some of the time. First, boom! Then zigzag light! Spooky. I can do these things now. Let me out. I'll show you, please!
"

Jimmy McGee replied, "In prison, yes, I can see that. Darkness, no! You, Little Lydia, you now have the zoomie-zoomies. That's magic. You can make little flashes of lightning. That's a great deal more than any ordinary people can do, including those dolls they sell that can do practically anything! Not what you can do, now. Still..."

"
I'll share the magic! Please!
"

Jimmy McGee was impressed with her pretty manners. Right or wrong, he made a decision. He would let her out of his hat, but not out of his headquarters. He must, sooner or later, get her back to Amy, grieving over having lost such an extraordinary doll. So he would let Little Lydia out of his hat, cure her, then get her back to Amy.

In six-sixty time, he wove a tough barrier of twigs and cranberry branches over the entranceway to headquarters. Then he lifted Little Lydia out of his hat. What a relief! He scratched his head, and then he placed her in the darkest farthermost recess of his headquarters. Enchanted, he watched her zigzag flashes come and go.

She was like a lightning bug, twinkling here and there back in the cave. Now he saw her, now he didn't. In one of those moments when he didn't see her, Lydia, Little, alighted on the lid of his little strong box. She had already discovered where he had hidden that box. Little Lydia's magic was recharged.

Jimmy McGee did not know this. He'd been watching her flashes come and go. What he hoped was they would stay gone and that by letting her out of his hat, her magic would wear thin.

Alas! Nothing of what he had hoped by releasing her from her hat prison happened. Instead, her zigzag flashes became more and more frequent.

Again he forgot his rounds. He just couldn't take his eyes off Little Lydia. She mesmerized him. Night passed that way. In the morning he neglected to bang the pipes anyplace. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer and cooler. He still had the sense not to leave Little Lydia alone in his headquarters, not even to check on The Bizzy Bee.

However, he did watch the goings and the comings of Amy and Clarissa, who might be looking for shells or anything to add to the beauty of their castle and its town, or to go paddling.

In the evening, late, a young person out strolling said, "Have you ever seen so many fireflies as there are this year? There must be a nesting place for them up there at the dune. Their lights come on, their lights go off."

"M-m-m," agreed her companion, and on they walked arm in arm down the beach enjoying these last evenings of summer.

So far, nothing bad had happened because of Jimmy McGee's neglect of his people.
Some
complained a little that the hot water hadn't been coming on on the dot as it usually did and that they had slept later than usual. They did not get down to the beach until practically lunchtime, still yawning and stretching from too much sleep.

Jimmy McGee let his work slip more and more. He never made his rounds. People in The Bizzy Bee wondered. Papa said, "I hope we won't have to get a plumber. Seems to me things are going to pot!" It was now getting toward the end of August. Many people had already left Cape Cod to get their children ready for school, buy sneakers and pencils and erasers.

They had left without Jimmy McGee's even having reminded them to turn off the water at the taps in the cellar and empty out all the tanks so that the pipes wouldn't freeze and burst come winter. Also to bolt down the shutters. Amy and her family were still here. Once he heard Amy say, "There's still a chance Little Lydia will wash ashore. Miracles do happen!"

And every day they carefully scanned the water's edge hoping that by some miracle they would find their lost Little Lydia. Guilt, though not very deep, sometimes swept over Jimmy McGee.

Once in a while he reminded himself, "Remember the hurricane, Jimmy McGee. Lobelia! Coming soon, you know." Amy and her family must be ready for a speedy departure if his predictions were right. Predictions? He hadn't kept track of anything. He pulled himself up short. "Oh, but they can count on me, Jimmy McGee!"

But he seemed to not really care. He wanted to spend all his time watching Little Lydia. It was as though he were under a spell. And was she ever worth watching! With every passing hour her zigzags flashed more brightly. Her blue eyes, always so very blue, now cast off magical beams, and when she fastened them on him, they sent off tiny sparks.

He realized that she had discovered where he had hidden his precious magic bolt box. But instead of hiding it in a still more secret place, he let her alight on it, just to see what would happen next. He wasn't going to open it. Oh no! He still had that much sense. He'd open it when the right time came. But he rather liked the very faint rumble of thunder in there and what he imagined the little streaks of lightning were like.

Whenever he lifted Little Lydia off this magic bolt box, he realized that she had received a powerful charge! One time he saw her walking, not on her own two legs that were not geared for walking anyway, but on what looked like shimmering stilts. They were like miniature streaks of lightning and were bright gold. Very pretty. Sometimes she jumped up and down and hopped about as though she were on crooked pogo sticks.

She should be in a circus, thought Jimmy McGee admiringly.

Sometimes she seemed to be suspended halfway between the dry grassy floor of his headquarters and the ceiling with its straggly, lacy roots. Her tousled yellow hair would get tangled in the grass roots until they, too, became charged and lighted up the place like a smart cafe.

Then when that curious exhibition was over, she made her descent to Jimmy McGee's bolt box and fastened her eloquent blue eyes on him. This made him uneasy.

No wonder his work suffered. Then it occurred to him that he might have a rival! Little Lydia was beginning to do the things that he did! She looked at his nuts and bolts, saw one in the wrong place, polished it a little on her calico dress so it shone, and put it in the right place. She looked at his pipes and fastened her eyes especially on the scrolls. She might tamper with these treasures, especially the one with the
Who's Who Book
where his name was and hers.

Perhaps she would take off and zoomie-zoomie through the wires the way he did, but on her own, not in his bombazine bag or his stovepipe hat! She might begin to think
she
was boss of the bolts, that no longer was she, Little Lydia, a do-nothing doll, but was now a doll girl plumber. Perhaps she would bang the pipes and make the houses shudder wherever happenstance might make her. Wake the people up in the middle of the night even! Hide under the bedclothes...

And o-o-ops! Worst thing of all! She might somehow figure out how to unlatch his magic bolt box and set those valuable specimens free!

He must watch her very closely. She might zoomie-zoomie away and never come back, doing shenanigans all on her own!
He
was the
hero. He
was the one who had rescued her from Monstrous! Was that gratitude on her part?