The Great Brain (3 page)

“She is ready and rarin’ to go,” Mr. Harvey said, and for the first time in my life I saw him smile.

It was surely a miracle invention, but there was one thing I had to know.

“Will it stink?” I asked.

“No, J.D.,” Papa answered. “The water level in the bowl will keep any air or odor from coming up from the cesspool.”

I was so happy that I felt like doing a jig as I followed Papa to the back porch. I watched Papa clasp his hands behind his back and teeter on his heels.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Papa announced to the crowd. “l am pleased to report that Mr. Harvey and I have successfully installed the first water closet in Adenville. You will be admitted in small groups of not more than six at a time. Mr. Harvey will explain the mechanism of the water closet and how it works. He will also give each group a demonstration. As you leave please pass through the kitchen where Mrs. Fitzgerald will serve refreshments.”

I was lucky that I’d seen the water closet because none of the kids got a chance to see it. Grown-ups pushed the kids aside, including Tom and Sweyn. By the time all the grown-ups had seen the water closet it was suppertime. A howl of protest went up from the kids, but their parents made them go home.

My brother Tom must have immediately put his great brain to work on how to capitalize on this because the next morning he told me to follow him to the barn.

“Run down to the Z.C.M.I. store and get me a cardboard box,” he said as we entered the barn. “I’ll need a piece of cardboard to make a sign.”

I was curious as all get out when I returned with a cardboard box that had contained cans of condensed milk. I watched fascinated as Tom used his jacknife to cut out one side of the box. Then he laid the piece of cardboard on a bale of hay and took a package of crayons from his pocket. My admiration for his great brain turned to complete awe as I read the sign he printed on the piece of cardboard.

SEE THE MAGIC WATER CLOSET THAT DOESN’T STINK

ADMISSION ONE PENNY CASH

NO PROMISES OR CREDIT

Tom then picked up a stick, after punching two holes in the piece of cardboard. He tied the sign to the stick with twine.

“Now, J.D.,” he said, “I want to hire you to be a barker , and make a pitch for my new business venture.”

“Barker?” I asked, not knowing what the word meant. “And what is pitch?”

“Remember last summer when Colonel Sheaffer’s Medicine Show came to town?” Tom asked.

I nodded.

“Remember how Colonel Sheaffer stood on the tailgate of his medicine-show wagon, with the Indian he had with him beating on a tom-tom and the Colonel making a speech? Well, I asked the Colonel about it, and he told me that to attract a crowd you have to have a barker and make a pitch. I want you to be the barker and make a pitch to attract a crowd of kids for my new business venture.”

“What is in it for me?” I asked.

“I’ll give you ten per cent of the gross receipts,” he answered.

“What are gross receipts?” I asked.

“All the money we take in,” Tom answered. “You get one penny for every ten pennies I collect.”

“It’s a deal,” I said gratefully.

Tom handed me the sign. Then he walked over and picked up the cowbell we put on our milk cow when we let her out to pasture. He handed the cowbell to me.

“We don’t have a tom-tom like Colonel Sheaffer’s Indian,” he said. “Use the cowbell instead.” His freckled face suddenly became solemn. “Sometimes my great brain almost scares me,” he said. “I’ll be a millionaire before I’m old enough to vote.” Then his face broke into a grin. “Off you go, J.D. Ring the bell and make your pitch on Main Street, in front of our house.”

I took up my station as barker in front of our house. I rang the cowbell and made my pitch.

“See the magic water closet that doesn’t stink!” I shouted as I rang the cowbell. “Only one penny to see the magic water closet!”

Colonel Sheaffer was right. All you needed was a barker to make a pitch to attract a crowd. Kids came running from every part of town. I soon had kids lined up all the way from our front gate and around the side of the house to our back porch, where Tom was busily collecting a penny from each kid to see the water closet. My brother and I were on the verge of making a financial killing when I saw Mamma coming down Main Street. I knew she had gone to spend the morning with Mrs. Taylor who was ill. Here she was coming home and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. I gave her a big smile as I rang the cowbell and made my pitch.

“See the magic water closet that doesn’t stink!” I shouted. “Only one penny to see the magic water closet.”

“John Dennis, come with me,” Mamma said sharply.

I knew she was angry about something when she called me by my full name. She never called us boys by our full names unless she was angry with us. I followed her around the side of the house to the back porch. Tom flashed us both a triumphant grin as he collected pennies from kids before admitting them to the bathroom.

“Tom Dennis, come into the kitchen,” Mamma said sternly.

One thing I loved about Mamma. When she was angry with us, she never scolded us in front of other kids. Tom and I followed her into the kitchen.

Aunt Bertha identified herself as the tattletale as we entered the kitchen. “I thought it best to telephone you, Tena,” she said.

“And it is a good thing you did,” Mamma said, placing her hands on her hips.

Calling Tom and me by our full names was bad enough, but I knew Mamma was just as angry as she could be when she placed her hands on her hips.

“Tom Dennis and John Dennis, I am thoroughly ashamed of you both,” Mamma said.

“You should only be ten per cent ashamed of me,” I defended myself. “I’m just the barker and only get ten per cent of the gross receipts.”

“To take part in anything that is wrong even one per cent,” Mamma reprimanded, “is just as bad as one hundred per cent.”

Tom folded his arms on his chest. “What is wrong with using my great brain to make money?” he demanded.

“You heard your father say yesterday that everybody would be admitted to see the water closet,” Mamma said. “I do not recall your father saying only adults would be admitted free and children would be charged a penny. Now, hand me those crayons in your hip pocket.”

Tom reluctantly handed Mamma the box of crayons. Then Mamma took the sign away from me. I was horrified when she used a red crayon to draw a line through the words ONE PENNY and printed the word FREE instead on the sign. Then she handed the sign back to me.

“Now John Dennis,” she said to me, “let me see you put the same amount of enthusiasm into your barking, as you call it, and ringing the cowbell as you were putting into it a few minutes ago.”

“Papa isn’t going to like this one bit,” Tom said. “Papa says it is brains that count and not muscles. When he finds out you made me give up a good money-making scheme my great brain thought up, he is going to be mighty angry with you, Mamma. You just wait and see.”

“When your father comes home,” Mamma said, not in the least cowed by Tom’s threats, “I’ll have him explain to you the difference between an honest business transaction and swindling your friends. And now that I think of it, you must have charged admission for letting your friends watch Mr. Harvey dig the cesspool.”

“Papa didn’t say anything about letting everybody watch Mr. Harvey dig the cesspool for nothing,” Tom said. “And all the customers were completely satisfied.”

“Your customers are going to be more than satisfied,” Mamma said. “Now just march yourself out to the back porch and refund not only all the pennies you collected this morning, but also all the money you collected for letting your friends watch Mr. Harvey dig the cesspool.”

‘”But Mamma…” Tom started to protest.

“You heard me, Tom Dennis,” Mamma said, interrupting him.

Tom didn’t have to wait until Papa came home to learn the difference between an honest business transaction and a swindle. He refunded all the pennies he’d collected for letting kids watch Mr. Harvey dig the cesspool and see the magic water closet, and there were still twenty kids in line waiting for refunds. I followed Tom into the kitchen.

“Mamma,” he said indignantly, “there are a bunch of cheaters out there. I refunded all the money I collected, and do you know what, Mamma?”

“What?” Mamma asked.

“There are still twenty kids demanding refunds,” Tom said with a wave of his hand toward the back porch.

“That will teach you a lesson,” Mamma said as if she enjoyed seeing her own flesh and blood defrauded. “You will just have to take twenty cents out of your bank.”

Tom’s cheeks swelled up in protest, but he knew there was no appeal from one of Mamma’s decisions. When the last kid had been paid off on the back porch, Tom put his hand on my shoulder.

“J.D. old partner,” he said, “we took a twenty-cent loss on this business venture because some of those kids went back to the end of the line and got paid twice. There is no hurry making good your half of the loss, but it is always best in business to settle these things immediately. We will go get the ten cents you owe me from your bank right now, partner.”

It didn’t sound quite right to me. I needed some expert advice. “I’m not handing over ten cents unless Mamma tells me to,” I said.

Tom put his arm around my shoulder. “We’ve upset Mamma enough for one day,” he said. “Let us settle this like businessmen and partners should. We don’t have to run to Mamma to settle a little thing like this.”

I guess I would have handed over my ten cents of the loss if Mamma hadn’t been in the kitchen when we entered it to go upstairs to our room and get the money. I explained the whole deal to Mamma and asked her to settle it.

“John D. was only a ten per cent partner,” Mamma said, to my joy. “He is therefore only responsible for ten per cent of the loss.”

Tom didn’t take the decision lying down. “But you said anything that was one per cent wrong was just the same as one hundred per cent. That makes J.D. a full partner.”

Mamma wasn’t swayed by Tom’s brilliant defense. “I was speaking of morals,” she said. “Morally John D. is as guilty as you. But looking at it from a business angle, you would have pocketed ninety per cent of the profits if Aunt Bertha hadn’t phoned me. That makes you responsible for ninety per cent of the loss.”

Tom knew the decision was final. “All right, J.D.,” he said “I’ll settle for two cents.”

“Just one moment, boys,” Mamma said. “John D. gave you back the two cents commission you paid him. He wasn’t your partner when Mr. Harvey was digging the cesspool. He was working for you on a straight commission. That makes you two even.”

It was the first time that my brother’s great brain had cost him money. I was positive Tom would carry the scar of this financial catastrophe to his grave.

CHAPTER TWO

Revenge Can Be Sour

MISS THATCHER, WHO HAD been ill with a very bad cold, was well enough to start teaching again on the following Monday. If she had been younger, she might have recovered sooner, but Miss Thatcher was getting along in years and we kids had heard talk that she might be replaced in the fall. Sweyn, Tom, and I were back in school just one week when school stopped again for all of us because of Mamma’s system with childhood diseases. Sweyn, being the oldest, usually caught a childhood disease first. Tom caught the diseases Sweyn missed. And that made me the victim of Mamma’s system every time because Mamma believed in getting us all infected with a disease at the same time and getting it over with.

I had a feeling Friday evening during supper that I was about to become the victim again.

Mamma looked across the table at Sweyn. “Do your eyes hurt, Sweyn D.?” she asked.

“A little,” Sweyn admitted.

The next morning Mamma took one look at Sweyn and ordered him to get undressed and go to her bedroom on the ground floor. Whenever we boys were sick, she always put us in her bedroom. That was the first part of her system. Then she telephoned Dr. LeRoy.

Mamma’s bedroom had a door that adjoined the bathroom. When the doctor arrived, Tom and I sneaked into the bathroom. Tom’s great brain had long ago figured out a way to eavesdrop. He put a water glass against the door leading to Mamma’s bedroom and to his ear. I watched his face as he listened. I knew the news was going to be bad as the expression on his face changed from curiosity to dejection.

“S.D. has got the measles,” he said sadly as he stepped back from the door. “You know what that means, J.D.”

“Maybe we can sneak out and play before Mamma puts us to bed,” I suggested.

Mamma must have guessed what I had in my mind because she opened the door leading to her bedroom. She caught Tom red-handed with the water glass in his hand.

“I suspected as much,” she said. “You boys know what to do.”

Tom shook his head slowly. “It seems silly for J.D. and me to get the measles just because Sweyn got them,” he said. “Maybe J.D. and I are immune to the measles.”

“If you are immune,” Mamma said, “we will soon find out.”

“But Mamma,” I protested, “I never get a chance to catch a disease first. Sweyn will be all well just when Tom and I are getting sick. And when Tom catches a disease first, he is all well just when Sweyn and I are getting sick. It ain’t fair, Mamma.”

“Isn’t fair,” Mamma said. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

There was nothing to do but obey. Tom and I went upstairs to the bedroom we shared. We undressed and put on our nightshirts and bathrobes. We dutifully marched down to Mamma’s bedroom. Mamma and Aunt Bertha had hung blankets over the windows to make the room dark. The room had to be dark when you had the measles because the light hurt your eyes. Tom and I groped our way to bed and crawled in with Sweyn. We had to stay in bed with Sweyn until we were both good and infected with measles.

Later when Dr. LeRoy came to the house and pronounced Tom and me good and infected by Sweyn, Mamma let us move back up to our bedroom. Sure enough, just like always, as Sweyn was getting better Tom and I started getting watery eyes, runny noses, and fevers. Sweyn moved upstairs to his bedroom while Tom and I moved down to Mamma’s bedroom.