Great Brain Reforms

by John D. Fitzgerald

  Just before lunch it began to rain. Mamma phoned Mrs. Huddle to say that Eddie would have lunch with us on account of the rain. It was still pouring when we finished eating. Mamma told Frankie and Eddie to play either inside the house or on the back porch. They went to the back porch but didn’t say there long. They took off their shoes and stockings and went wading in the rain puddles in the backyard. I guess they got tired of doing this and decided to have a mud-ball fight instead.

  Mamma heard them yelling and went to the back porch. And what a sight she saw! Frankie and Eddie were making mud balls and throwing them at each other. They were both covered with mud from head to toe. Mamma made Frankie take a bath and go to bed. She cleaned up Eddie the best she could and told me to take him home. I guess Frankie thought taking a bath and having to go to bed in the afternoon was all the punishment he would get. But when Papa came home. Mamma told him what Frankie had done.

  “I dislike doing it,” she said, “but the boy must be punished.”

  She got Frankie out of bed, dressed him, and brought him into the parlor.

  “Frankie,” Papa said, “you know you weren’t supposed to play in Mamma’s flower garden and ruin her pretty flowers. You were told not to leave the back porch and you disobeyed. When a boy does things his parents have forbidden him to do, he must be punished. You will be given the silent treatment for one week.”

  I’d always figured the other kids in town were lucky. When they did something wrong they got a whipping and that was the end of it. But not the kids in our family. We got the silent treatment instead. This meant Papa and Mamma wouldn’t speak to us. To me it was a lot worse than a whipping, which only lasted a few minutes.

  Frankie had never received the silent treatment so I explained it to him. But he just didn’t seem to understand. During our supper of fried pork chops and fried potatoes he asked Papa to pass the salt. Papa handed the salt shaker to Mamma who gave it to Aunt Bertha who passed it to Sweyn who finally passed it to Frankie. During the meal Frankie tried several times to get Papa and Mamma to speak to him. They pretended they didn’t hear him.

  Papa had always let Frankie blow out the match after he lit his after-dinner cigar. After supper Frankie stood by Papa’s chair in the parlor waiting to blow out the match. But Papa blew it out himself.

  “Why didn’t you let me blow out the match?” Frankie asked.

  Papa picked up a magazine and started to read. Frankie tried to climb up on his lap.

  “J. D.,” Papa said to me, “tell Frankie that he is not

  to blow out the match, and he is not to sit on my lap, and he is not to speak to me for one week.”

  _ That was the system Papa and Mamma used to give orders when one of us was being punished. I walked over and took Frankie’s hand.

  “Don’t bother Papa,” I said, “Come on and play checkers with me.”

  I led him over by the fireplace and tried to get him to play checkers, but he just shook his head. He just sat there until Mamma and Aunt Bertha came into the parlor after finishing the supper dishes. Frankie got up. He waited until Mamma was seated in her maple rocker and had resumed working on a doily she was crocheting. He walked over to her.

  “What are you doing, Mamma?” he asked.

  She ignored him and spoke to Aunt Bertha instead. “Whose turn is it to entertain the Ladies’ Sewing Circle tomorrow, Bertha?” she asked.

  “Elinor Taylor’s,” Aunt Bertha answered.

  Then Frankie tried to climb up on Mamma’s lap. She pushed him away and spoke to me,

  “John D., tell Frankie that if he doesn’t stop bothering me he will be sent to bed,” she said.

  Frankie backed away from Mamma. “You and Papa don’t love me anymore,” he cried, tears coming into his eyes. Then he ran upstairs to our room.

  “Poor little fellow,” Mamma said sadly. “But he must learn to obey.”

  I knew how Frankie must feel so I went up to our room. He was sitting on our bed, staring out the window.

  “Get undressed and we’ll have a pillow fight,” I said.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Want me to get the checker board?” I asked. “We can play up here until it is bedtime.”

  “Nope,” he said.

  I sat down beside him and put my arm around his shoulders. “I know how you feel,” I said. “I remember the first time I got the silent treatment. It only lasted one day but it seemed like a year.”

  “That proves Mamma and Papa don’t love me anymore,” he cried. “You only got one day and I got a whole week.”

  I tried for about an hour to convince Frankie that Papa and Mamma loved him but he just wouldn’t believe me. He cried himself to sleep that night.

  The next day during breakfast and lunch he tried several times to get Papa and Mamma to speak to him. They both just ignored him. After lunch he went to the woodshed. I following him and found him crying. It was just too much. I went to the kitchen.

  “Frankie is in the woodshed crying as if his heart is breaking,” I told Mamma.

  “It is breaking my heart to punish him,” Mamma said. “But it must be done. If I let him get away with it this time, he will expect the same leniency next time. Little boys his age are quick to take advantage of any weak-ness they see in their parents. Aunt Bertha and I will be leaving for the Ladies’ Sewing Circle in a little while. Keep an eye on Frankie and see he gets some cookies and a glass of milk this afternoon.”

  Tom and I tried to get Frankie to go swimming with us, but he refused to budge out of the woodshed.

  “That means we can’t go swimming either,” Tom said. “Let’s play some basketball.”

  “Not if you are going to charge me a penny to play,” I said.

  I guess Tom didn’t want to play by himself so he let me play without charging me the usual fee. We played two-man basketball until about two o’clock when Frankie came out into the alley. He was pulling his wagon. His box of treasures that he kept in our bedroom was in the wagon. And so was his pup, Prince.

  Tom stared at him. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked.

  ‘“‘I’m running away,” Frankie said, “because Papa and Mamma don’t love me anymore,”

  Tom winked at me. “Don’t you think you had better have some milk and cookies first?” he asked.

  “I guess so,” Frankie said.

  We all went to the kitchen where we had some oat-meal cookies and milk.

  “I’ll be going now,” Frankie said as he got down from his chair.

  Again Tom winked at me. “Where do you think you will go, Frankie?” he askedť just as serious as he could be.

  “I’m not telling,” Frankie said.

  “If you don’t want us to know,” Tom said, “there is nothing we can do about it. But don’t you think it would be a good idea to take along a sandwich?”

  “I guess so,” Frankie said,

  Tom was really carrying a joke a long way. He actually made a ham sandwich and put it in a paper bag. We walked back to the alley. Frankie put the sandwich in his box. Prince had jumped out of the wagon. He put the pup back in it.

  “Guess I’ll be going now,” he said.

  “Good-by and good luck,” Tom said.

  Frankie picked up the handle of the wagon. “Good-by, John,” he said.

  “Good-by,” I said.

  “Good-by, Tom,” Frankie said.

  “Good-by,” Tom said.

  Frankie started up the alley. He went about ten feet and stopped and turned around.

  “Good-by, John,” he said.

  “Good-by,” I said-

  “Good-by, Tom,” Frankie said.

  “We already said good-by once,” Tom said. “So, for

  the last time, good-by.”

  We watched Frankie pulling the wagon down the alley with Prince sitting in it. He looked so pitiful it was actually comical. I couldn’t help laughing and neither could Tom.

  “I’ll bet,” I said, “that he turns around before he getsr />
  to the end of the alley.”

  “That is one bet I won’t take,” Tom said. We were both wrong. Frankie kept going until he

  reached the street. He waved at us and then disappeared. Tom sat down by the side of the woodshed and

  laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. “He is hiding

  around the corner,” he said, “waiting for us to come after

  him.”

  I sat down beside Tom and laughed too. But I stopped laughing after a few minutes when Frankie didn’t

  return.

  “Maybe we should go get him,” I said. “Remember that time you ran away from home when you were about his age?” Tom asked. “I sat right here and

  watched you go up the alley, just like Frankie. I got worried when you didn’t come back and went after you. And I found you playing with Jimmie Peterson in his backyard, Frankie will go to Eddie Huddle’s home when he finds out we aren’t coming after him.”

  “But Mamma said to keep an eye on him,” I said.

  “We know where he is,” Tom said, “so what are you worrying about?”

  We played basketball. Then we played catch until it was time for me to start doing the evening chores.

  “I’ll go get Frankie now,” Tom said.

  Mamma and Aunt Bertha returned just as I was fill-ing up the woodbox in the kitchen. I began to get worried when Tom didn’t return with Frankie by the time I’d finished all the chores. It was almost suppertime when Tom finally came down the alley. But Frankie wasn’t with him.

  “Where is Frankie?” I asked,

  “I don’t know,” Tom said, looking plenty worried. “He wasn’t with Eddie Huddle. I tried the homes of some-other kids he plays with. No luck. I thought I could fol-low the tracks of the wagon but he must have pulled it in the street and the wheels didn’t leave any marks on the gravel. Are you sure he didn’t come back?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “What do we do now?”

  Tom took a deep breath. “We tell Mamma,” he said.

  Mamma was in the kitchen with Aunt Bertha pre-paring supper. Tom confessed that we had let Frankie run away and couldn’t find him.

  Mamma always reacted briskly in a crisis. “I’ll deal with you two later,” she said. Then she telephoned Papa and Uncle Mark. Supper was forgotten.

  We were waiting in the parlor when Papa and Uncle Mark arrived. Tom toid them what had happened. Uncle Mark stood up holding his Stetson hat in his hand.

  “I don’t think there is anything to worry about,” he said. “A boy pulling a wagon with a dog in it is sure to be noticed. I’ll check the houses on the street he took.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Papa said.

  It was dark before Papa returned. Frankie wasn’t with him. Mamma began to cry and so did Aunt Bertha. I sure as heck felt like crying.

  “Please don’t cry,” Papa said, “Mark is organizing a search party. We did find one person who saw Frankie. Mrs. Cranston, who lives in that yellow house at the edge of town, saw him going down the road toward the river.”

  “The river!” Mamma cried. “Why didn’t she stop him?”

  “She assumed he was just taking his dog for a ride,” Papa said. “T. D., get me the kerosene lantern from the barn.”

  I went to the barn with Tom.

  “If anything happens to Frankie,” I said, “I’ll never forgive you,”

  “Forgive me?” Tom asked. “What about yourself?”

  I knew Tom was right. I didn’t have to go along with the joke. I could have stopped Frankie. I made a sacred vow never to play a joke on anybody again. As we started for the house Brownie began barking. In the moonlight I saw Prince come running down the alley. He had something in his mouth. When the pup got close enough, we could see it was the cap Frankie had been wearing-Tom put the lantern down and dropped to his knees.

  “Good boy, Prince,” he said, patting the pup on the head. Then he waved the cap in front of Prince. “Frankie,” he said. “Take us to Frankie.”

  But Prince just wagged his tail.

  “You try,” Tom said—

  1 took the cap and waved it in front of Brownie’s nose. My dog took the cap and dropped it in front of Prince and began barking. I think Brownie understood what we wanted, but the pup didn’t. Prince just stood there, wagging his tail.

  “There has to be a way,” Tom said. “Take the lantern to Papa. But don’t say anything about Prince. Too many people will just get the pup more excited.”

  I took the lantern to Papa. Then I went back to the alley.

  “Did your great brain figure out how to make Prince take us to Frankie yet?” I asked.

  “My great brain will make him understand,” Tom said.

  He took the cap and ran a few steps down the alley. “Frankie,” Tom called. “Here, Prince. Find Frankie!”

  The pup ran to Tom and he put the cap in the pup’s mouth. But Prince just dropped the cap on the ground and stood there wagging his tail. Tom picked up the cap and ran a few more steps down the alley, calling to Prince. The pup followed him but stopped when Tom did.

  “He thinks we are playing a game with him,” Tom said as he walked back to where I was standing, “We know he loves Frankie. Just ignore him. Don’t move or speak to him.”

  Then Tom threw the cap several feet down the alley. Prince ran to the cap and began to whine.

  “Don’t say anything,” Tom whispered. “Just walk toward him.”

  We started walking toward the pup. Prince picked up the cap and ran down the alley. He turned around to see if we were following him. Then he began to run, with me and Tom and Brownie after him. He ran down the street Frankie had taken. When we got to the outskirts of town the pup turned around to see if we were still following him, then ran down the road leading to the river, He kept going for about a mile down the road. My lungs felt as if they were on fire. Prince turned off on a side road that led to a wooded glen where people often went for picnics. We found Frankie sitting with his back against a tree. Prince was licking tears from Frankie’s face.

  “John, Tom!” Frankie shouted, getting up and running toward us.

  Tom reached him first and picked him up. “What a scare you gave us,” he said.

  “I was plenty scared when it got dark,” Frankie said.

  “We didn’t think you would really run away,” Tom said.

  “I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for you and John,” Frankie said.

  I couldn’t have been more astonished if Frankie had accused us of beating him. Tom was the first to recover from his astonishment.

  “I thought you were running away because you didn’t think Papa and Mamma loved you anymore,” he said.

  “That’s right,” Frankie said- “But I wasn’t real hon-est sure until you and John didn’t stop me. Then I knew that you both knew Papa and Mamma didn’t love me anymore.”

  “Boy, oh, boy,” I said to Tom. “When he tells Papa and Mamma that, you and I had better run away from home. They will never forgive us.”

  Tom put Frankie down. “Now listen,” he said. “Papa

  and Mamma do love you. J. D. and I were just playing a joke on you.”

  “It’s no joke,” Frankie said, “to make me believe Papa and Mamma don’t love me.”

  “We know that now,” Tom said. “And we are sorry we played a joke on you. Now get into the wagon and sit on the box and we’ll take you home.”

  Frankie was smiling as he got into the wagon. “It is good knowing I’m going home,” he said. “And I won’t tell that you and John played a joke on me.”

  We were on the river road, about a quarter of a mile from town, when we saw a group of men carrying lanterns coming toward us. I waited .until they were near enough and then cupped my hands to my lips.

  “Uncle Mark!” I shouted. “We found Frankie! He is

  all right!”

  All the men with lanterns began running toward us. Papa and Uncle Mark reached us first. Papa picked up Frankie and hugged him.
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  “Are you all right, son?” he asked.

  “I’m fine now that I know you love me,” Frankie said as he put his arms around Papa’s neck.

  “Don’t you ever forget how much I love you,” Papa said, “and how much your mother loves you.”

  Papa carried Frankie all the way home. Tom told Uncle Mark and the other men in the search party how we had found Frankie. They left us at our front gate. I had never seen such a happy look on Mamma’s face as when

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  the three of us entered the parlor with Frankie.

  “Give me my son,” she cried. She took Frankie from Papa and sat down in her maple rocker holding him on her lap.

  Frankie was struggling to keep his eyes open as Mamma rocked him in her arms. He fell asleep with a beautiful smile on his face.

  Tom told Papa, Aunt Bertha, Mamma, and Sweyn how we had found Frankie.

  “The worst part of it,” Tom confessed, “was that Frankie was sure you really didn’t love him when J. D. and I didn’t try to stop him from running away.”

  Papa sat in his chair shaking his head. “You both played a very cruel joke on a little boy,” he said. “It easily could have resulted in a tragedy. Frankie could have fallen into the river and been drowned. He could have wandered into that stretch of desert on the edge .of town and been bitten by a rattlesnake. I can’t imagine any punishment that is severe enough for what you two did.”

  “I can,” Mamma said. “Just knowing what might have happened to Frankie will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.”

  Mamma was sure right. My conscience gave me more punishment day’and night than anything Papa could have done to me. Every time I looked at Frankie I couldn’t help thinking he might have died as a result of a joke-I had terrible nightmares at night about finding Frankie dead. I told Tom about them.

  “You aren’t alone,” Tom said, patting my shoulder. “But it is punishment we both deserve for playing such a joke on somebody we love.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Magnetic Stick

  I GUESS JUST ABOUT EVERY KID in town sort of envied Parley Benson. His father let him have things no other kid could have. Parley wore a coonskin cap just like Daniel Boone. When Parley was ten years old, his father gave him a genuine bowie knife. So it was no surprise to us kids when Parley’s father gave him the first repeating air rifle ever seen in Adenville. Parley received the King air rifle for his birthday during the last week in July, right after Frankie had run away from home.