by Robb White
"It's a nice sunny day," Mr. Worth announced, going into the library where the empty bookshelves went all the
way to the ceiling. "Let's leave her open to air out until sundown, Judy/'
She nodded and went over to the tall windows and began pushing them up.
Jonathan stood in the doorway, looking into the room. The huge leather-topped desk was covered with gray cloth and so was his grandfather's chair and all the other things.
But Jonathan could tell what was under each piece of cloth and, slowly, he began to see this room as he remembered it. In front of the fireplace was the long couch covered with dull red leather. The fireplace was big enough for him to walk into even now, when he was thirteen. His grandfather's old leather chair with the high back which could be put at any angle by moving a steel rod behind it stood tall at one side, and the other chairs were on the other side.
Jonathan remembered how, when he was a little shaver, his mother would let him ride on the library ladder. At the top of the bookshelves there was a little trolley track and the ladder ran on that and on two wheels on the floor so that people could get the books down.
Judy got all the windows open and they went on into the parlor. This was a room Jonathan had never stayed in much when he had lived here.
On the way out of the parlor Jonathan, walking beside the girl, asked, ''Is your name Judy?"
She looked at him, her eyes still angry, and snapped, "No."
He was surprised. Mr. Worth had called her Judy several times.
Jonathan was about to say something else when Mr. Worth said, ''J^^Y^ ^^^ V^^^ P^^^ ^hc ointment on that colt's screwworms yesterday?''
'Tes, and she's about cured. I couldn't find a one."
"Keep an eye on her. Those flies are everywhere." Mr. Worth turned to Jonathan. ''Screwworms have been terrible all summer. Most ate up all the livestock."
Jonathan didn't know what screwworms were, so he just nodded.
As they started up the stairs, Jonathan said, ''If your name isn't Judy, why does he call you Judy?"
She looked back at him over her shoulder, "Because he wants to, I guess."
She was about as irritating as any girl he knew, Jonathan decided. "Well, what is your name?"
"Judith," she said. "Miss Judith Worth Shelley."
"Oh, for crying out loud," Jonathan said, disgusted.
She ignored him.
Mr. Worth finished opening the windows and turned to Jonathan. "When you go home will you tell your dad that the house needs painting pretty bad? Course it'll stand here another hundred years without paint, but it'd be better to paint her."
Until then Jonathan had not thought anything about going home or what he was going to tell his father about coming to the Farm. Now, though, he had to think about it.
He suddenly wondered how his father would feel if he knew that Jonathan had been to the Farm. Would it make him angry, or sad, or would he care one way or the other? Jonathan didn't know, but for some reason he didn't want his father to find out.
''You might also tell your dad that weVe been having some fox races as good as any they ever ran in the old days, Jonathan. Oh, man, there're some hounds running today that are sweeter to listen to than symphony music.'' He smiled at Jonathan and said, ''Tell your dad to quit working for just one night and come listen to the music. It would do him good; take his mind off all his troubles. Make him come, Jonathan, and you come with him."
"I don't think he would," Jonathan said. "He doesn't like fox hunting any more."
"I can't understand that," Mr. Worth said. "Your dad used to be one of the best hunters in this section, and there wasn't a man alive who knew more about hounds than he did. Then, all of a sudden, he just stops."
Jonathan said quietly, "My mother was fox hunting with Dad the night she got hurt. Maybe that's the reason."
Mr. Worth nodded. "It must be, Jonathan. There couldn't be any other reason. But, you know, hounds and hunting really lost something when your dad dropped out. He had a way with dogs that was just like magic. He understood 'em, and they understood him. He could train a foxhound until it was a good deal smarter than a man and just as smart as a fox. And he could match up dogs so that the
best qualities they had came out in the pups. Particularly with Trombos. Your dad was dedoping the Trombo strain of hounds into the best in the country. Now there's only old Mister Blue left/'
''And Pot Likker/' Judy said.
'Tot Likker just doesn't count/' Mr. Worth said, his voice sad.
Jonathan remembered the hound sitting on his haunches in the drive, apart from everything, separate from all the life going on around him. Jonathan could suddenly feel how lonesome Pot Likker must be. As lonesome as he was. "What's the matter with Pot Likker?" he asked.
"No instincts," Mr. Worth said. "Dogs can't really think the way people can; all they've got are instincts. Say a hound finds a fox's trail. What makes him start chasing that fox? Does he stop and think and decide that, if he catches the fox, it will make a good meal? I don't think so. Not many hounds will eat a fox. And say the fox went by two or three hours ago. How does a hound know which way the fox was going? Instinct, Jonathan. That's all. There isn't enough scent or heat in a cold trail for a hound to feel or smell any difference one way or the other. But a good hound will always go in the right direction."
"Even Slewfoot?" Judy asked, and began to grin.
"Well, now . . ." Mr. Worth laughed. "But that Pot Likker dog is a mess. Great, big, good-looking hound; can run all night. Fine voice, too. But just a mess, even if he is Mister Blue's own son. Out of a whole litter of five pups,
Jonathan, four died of distemper in less than a week. Now wouldn't that hamstring you? The only one who didn't get sick was Pot Likker/'
''Maybe he's too young or something/' Jonathan said. He kept remembering Pot Likker and feeling sorry for him.
''He's plenty old/' Mr. Worth declared. "But the Lord just didn't give that dog any instincts. Not a one. He hasn't got enough sense to know that he's supposed to like people. You notice he never wags his tail, and that's the only way a dog can tell you that he likes you. He's always by himself, sitting there looking at nothing all day long, or off somewhere where you can't find him. He won't come when you call him, not even to eat. Even Judy, who's a real hand with animals, can't do anything with Pot Likker. Even when he was a tiny puppy he didn't like Judy to handle him at all."
Mr. Worth shook his head, then scratched it. "I must've seen close on to ten thousand assorted dogs in my life and, believe me, I've never seen one as curious or as useless as that Pot Likker/'
"Maybe he's just lonesome," Jonathan said.
"If he is it's all his own fault. I'd like to make friends with him and so would Judy, but no, sir, he won't let you come near him. That dog won't even play with the other dogs. Have you ever heard of anything like that?"
"No," Jonathan said. "But I don't believe that Pot Likker hasn't got any instincts. I mean none at all. He must have some way back in his head somewhere."
"Maybe so, but he certainly doesn't let anybody know it.
It's a real crying sTiamc, too, because Pot Likker's the last of the Trombos your great-grandfather bred. But if he had pups most hkely they wouldn't be any good."
Jonathan looked down the drive, but Pot Likker had gone away. Jonathan thought of the hound standing up, turning, and then walking slowly away, friendless and alone. He wondered where Pot Likker would go and what he would do. Probably, Jonathan thought, Pot Likker did almost the same things he did: just wander, not caring much where he went or what he did. To be so lonesome was a terrible thing, Jonathan thought.
''Judy," Mr. Worth said, ''what's the Little Bird got for us to eat?"
"I don't know. Uncle Dan. I've been in the stable most of the morning."
Jonathan wondered who the little bird was.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you, Jonathan?" Mr. Worth asked.
"No. But I've got to start home, Mr. Worth."
"No. Thanks. But wait—" Jonathan was too slow. Judy disappeared down a path through some woods, leaving him with Mr. Worth. "I can't stay for lunch, Mr. Worth. Really. They're expecting me home."
"It'll be late before you get there. Won't be anything left to eat. You come on eat with us and you can leave chewing if you like."
CHAPTER FIVE
t
TjL ^ ft C L lonathan discovered that the
<»?3f^9jr^. J -Little Bird" was Mr. Worth's wife. She wasn't at all like her husband, and Jonathan secretly couldn't figure out why Mr. Worth called her the Little Bird. She was at least as tall as he was, but she wasn't lean and rangy. She was a great big woman, who looked strong enough to take her husband and break him into a lot of little pieces if she wanted to.
They ate lunch in the kitchen, which was a big room at the back of the house. Judy and her uncle wouldn't have minded having all the dogs in there with them, Jonathan decided. But Mrs. Worth would let only the puppies in while they were eating. At that, there were half-a-dozen dogs running around on the floor.
Jonathan had never had a better meal in his life. The biscuits were hot and so light it was hard to butter them without crumpling them up. The fried chicken was a light gold color and made his mouth water just to look at it. When Mrs. Worth asked him what piece of the chicken he wanted, he acted as he did at home, and said, ''A drumstick
or a wing, please." Because, at home, the white meat was for grownups, and that was one reason Jonathan wanted to grow up. He didn't hke either drumsticks or wings very much.
Mrs. Worth wasn't happy. ''Now isn't that a shame? I was hoping you hkcd white meat, Jonathan. None of us will eat it, and it just goes to waste. Wouldn't you just as soon have white meat?"
Jonathan nodded. ''I was sort of being polite, I guess," he told her.
Mr. Worth looked up from his plate. ''Never pays to be too polite. Now I remember my folks. Dad would say, 'Mother, you want to go to the church picnic?' And she'd be polite and say, 'Well, I'll go if you want to, Dan.' So he'd say, 'Do you want to, Marthy?' And they'd keep up that politeness till neither one of 'em went anywhere. Give the boy all the white meat. Little Bird. He can eat it and save us feeding it to the hogs."
While they were eating a calf came and poked its head in the open doorway. Jonathan saw Judy and Mr. Worth look at it, but neither one of them did anything about it.
The puppies went over and barked at the calf and it backed away, but soon it poked its head in again and, when the puppies got too close, it would blow at them and run them back to the other side of the room.
Finally, though, the calf went too far. It kept stretching out its neck, its wet square lips feeling around on the scrubbed floor and coming farther and farther into the
room. At last it heaved itself up and put one foot in and started to put the other one in.
Judy watched it out of the corner of her eye as she ate the meat off a drumstick as fast as she could. Just as the calf got the other foot in, Judy cleaned the drumstick and threw the bone. It hit the calf smack between the eyes.
''Get your feet out/' Judy told it.
The calf, looking a little sad, took its feet out and put them down on the ground.
Jonathan, eating slowly, wondered what would happen to him at his house if he threw a drumstick—or anything else—at the table.
The puppies began to fight over the drumstick, growling and tugging at it and swirling across the floor. At last, when they got the bone under the table and were all over people's feet, Mr. Worth said, ''J^^Y? ^^^^ ^™^ make those bones bounce outdoors. Some of those puppies under there are mistaking my foot for that drumstick."
Judy reached down, got the bone away from them, and threw it out the door. Jonathan watched the bone go sailing out, falling toward the ground.
It never hit the ground. A big dog appeared from somewhere. He was just walking along, but at the right instant he lifted his head a little and snapped. The bone disappeared and the dog walked on out of sight.
The calf came back and started nuzzling around on the floor again. The puppies ran at it, and then stopped so quickly that their feet slid on the smooth wood. Whenever
one slid too far and rammed into the calf, it would yelp with terror and start running, taking five or six leaps before it could get its body to move.
But one little puppy went right up to the calf, watched it for a moment, and then jumped and grabbed it by the ear. The calf bellowed and flung up its head. The puppy hung on for a second longer, but the fling tore it loose and it came sailing over the table.
Mr. Worth put his knife and fork down and caught the puppy just before it landed in the gravy bowl. He put it down tenderly on the floor and looked at Judy. "We'll keep an eye on that one, Judy. He's going to make a good catch dog. You see how he figured the best angle on that ear and then went right in and grabbed it? And he hung to it, too. If he'd had something more than those little needles for teeth, he'dVe had that calf yet."
Judy said, ''He better learn soon to catch cows by the nose and hogs by the ears or he'll get his head taken off."
''One of these days," Mrs. Worth said, towering over her lanky husband, "I'm going to put my foot down. No doggone dogs in the house unless they're sick or have to be bottle fed. Yes, sir, one of these days I'm going to put my foot down."
"Aw, Little Bird," Mr. Worth said, still eating, "you love having these little shysters underfoot all the time. They keep you company."
"Well, I'll admit they keep me better companv than some," Mrs. Worth said. "They keep me a sight better
company than you do traipsing around in the woods all the time. And I declare, Dan Worth, you're going to ruin Judy turning her into a woman wanting to hunt and fish all the time. What's her mother going to say?''
''Nothing wrong with that kind of woman, Little Bird," Mr. Worth said calmly. ''A good kind of \'oman to be, I figure. Gives her something to do besides moon around a house all day." He smiled over at Judy.
Mrs. Worth smiled at her, too. Then she looked at Jonathan. ''Where you go to school in the city, do the girls wear britches, Jonathan?" she asked.
Before he could say anything, Judy interrupted. "Aw, Aunty! How can I ride a horse to school and wear a dress? Aw, Aunty!"
"Do they, Jonathan?" Mrs. Worth insisted.
He was glad he could help Judy out and still not tell a lie. "Yes, ma'am. Most of the girls wear blue jeans. But they don't look as good as Judy does though, because they wear shirts but they don't tuck the shirttails in."
For a second Judy beamed at him, then went on gnawing another drumstick.
Mrs. Worth sounded amazed. "Well, I declare. And they don't ride horses to school either."
"No, ma'am. Nobody rides a horse to the school I go to. The ones who live close enough ride bicycles or walk, and the rest come on streetcars or school busses."
Mrs. Worth sounded happy. "You see, Judy? City girls ride the school bus. City girls don't ride horses to school."
"They haven't got a horse," Judy stated. 'Tve got a horse. Aw, Aunty! I've aheady showed you and Mother a milhon times that I ean get to scliool faster and get home faster on a horse than if I rode that old school bus wandering all over the plaee/' She suddenly turned to Jonathan. ''How long does it take 'ou to get to sehool?''
''About ten or fifteen minutes. Depends on the traffic lights."
"See?" Judy said, jumping up and down in her chair. "I can make it in fifteen minutes any time I want to, especially when I ride Spark Plug and let him run."
Jonathan wished they'd stop talking about school. It had reminded him of the report card lying on his father's desk.
But they didn't stop. Judy looked at him over an ear of corn she was mowing down. When she got to the end, she asked, "Are you smart in school?" and started down the ear again, going the other way.
Jonathan shook his head. "I'm dumb."
&nbs
p; Mr. Worth looked up. "Bill Barrett's boy dumb?"
Jonathan nodded again.
"I don't believe it," Mr. Worth said.
"I've been in summer school all summer and I still get F's," he said quietly.
Judy, her mouth full of corn, gulped. "F's!"
"That's right."
She was almost whispering. "You mean you flunked?"
Jonathan nodded.
Judy's eyes were big. "What's your father going to do to you?" she asked, still whispering.
''I don't know. Til find out when I get home."
Judy looked at him but didn't say anything more.
Mr. Worth wiped his mouth. ''Jori^^han, you better stay out here the rest of the afternoon. I'll take you home this evening in the truck. That'll give your dad a chance to cool off some about those F's. You and Judy go catch some fish for us. You like fishing?"
''I used to/' Jonathan said, remembering. And he remembered also that he hadn't been fishing for two or three years.
''All right, }'0u stay and go fishing. Judy, go dig some worms."
''I think I've got some fishing tackle up at the house," Jonathan said. 'AVhen we moved I left it all in my closet."
''You won't need it. We've got plenty of poles and lines and Judy's got some of the liveliest wiggle worms you ever saw. Fish come for miles just to admire 'em."
Jonathan kept thinking about the rod and reel his father had brought him from England. He wanted to see it again, and to fish with it again. "While she's getting worms, I can run up to the house and get my rod," Jonathan declared.
As he went past Judy digging worms beside the cow stable with a pitchfork, he told her that he was going after his rod and reel.
"Rod and reel!" she said scornfully. "I thought we were going to catch some fish."