“The next one who makes fun of me, I’ll fight and make eat dirt—boy or girl,” she threatened.
All the kids backed away from Dotty with scared looks. Just then Mr. Standish rang the bell ending recess.
Dotty’s first day in school must have been enough to make Mr. Standish wish he’d never become a teacher. He tried several times to get Dotty learning her ABC’s, but she just sat with her arms folded and wouldn’t say a word.
“Wouldn’t you like to learn to read and write like the other pupils?” he asked.
“Nope,” Dotty answered, speaking for the first time that afternoon.
“Wouldn’t you like to learn something about the history of our great country?” Mr. Standish asked.
“Nope,” Dotty said.
“Wouldn’t you like to learn how to add and subtract and multiply figures?” Mr. Standish asked.
“Nope,” Dotty said. “My pa told me I gotta come here ‘cause it’s the law, but he didn’t say I gotta learn anything.”
Mr. Standish threw up his hands. “Is there anything you do like?” he asked.
“Horses,” Dotty said. “I like horses.”
That evening after supper Tom and I did our homework on the dining-room table and then went into the parlor to play a game or two of dominoes before going to bed.
Papa laid aside his book. “How did Dotty Blake’s first day in school go?” he asked.
Mamma dropped her embroidery work in her lap. “It was a disaster,” she said. “A complete disaster.”
Tom and I had told Mamma all about it when we had come home from school. Tom repeated the story for Papa.
“That girl is going to get an education some way,” Mamma said with a determined look on her face.
Tom looked at Mamma with surprise. “You can’t make anybody do something they don’t want to do,” he said. “Mr. Standish tried real hard, but it didn’t do any good.”
Mamma stared hard at Tom as if she’d never seen him before, and then to my astonishment, she smiled. “Maybe I can’t but you can,” she said. “I am sure your great brain can make that girl want to get an education, and want to look and act like a girl.”
Tom thought about it and slowly nodded his head. “Maybe I could use my great brain to solve the problem,” he said. Then that conniving look came into his eyes. “How much would it be worth to you and Papa? Maybe we can make a deal.”
Mamma laid her embroidery on a table and stood up. She placed her hands on her hips and addressed Tom by his full name, which meant she was plenty angry.
“We will make a deal all right, Tom Dennis,” she said sternly. “Your father and I aren’t exactly stupid. We know you deceived us into getting you a bicycle for Christmas by pretending you’d reformed. The bicycle goes up into the attic immediately and stays there until Dotty Blake wants to get an education and starts wearing dresses. Now put your great brain to work on that.”
Tom’s mouth fell open as if Mamma had just told him to pack his things and leave home and never come back. “But that isn’t fair,” he protested.
“It is just as fair as you pretending you’d reformed,” Mamma said. “And I’m sure your father will back me up.”
“I second the motion,” Papa said, nodding his head.
I sure felt sorry for my brother. For the first time in his life he looked as if he wished he hadn’t been born with a great brain.
“The first thing you must do,” Mamma said, “is to make Dotty want to learn how to read and write. This will also involve getting her father’s consent. You can begin by teaching her the ABC’s as you taught John D. before he started school.”
The look of despair disappeared from Tom’s face. “You mean if I teach her the ABC’s, I get my bike back?”
“Not quite,” Mamma said. “You will also teach her how to spell simple words and identify them until she can read simple sentences from Guffey’s Reader.”
“And I think,” Papa said, “that Dotty should be able to count and write the numerals from one to twenty-five before you get your bicycle back. You will, of course, have the help of Mr. Standish.”
Tom held out his arms in a pleading gesture. “You are both asking for a miracle,” he protested.
“Then let your great brain perform one,” Mamma said.
* * *
“We are going to follow Dotty,” Tom said to me the next day on the way home from school.
It seemed like a silly thing to do, but I was so curious I didn’t ask any questions. We followed Dotty down Main Street. Then we saw her turn suddenly and run behind the Community Church.
“What is she doing?” I asked.
“Shut up and follow me,” Tom said.
We sneaked down the side of the Community Church. Tom peeked around the corner.
“Just as I expected,” he whispered.
I wanted to know what he expected, so I peeked around the corner. I saw Dotty sitting on the ground with her back against the rear of the building. She had her knees doubled up and her head cradled in her arms. Her shoulders were shaking, and she was crying.
“She isn’t a wild creature like Papa said,” Tom whispered. “Wild creatures don’t cry. That makes it easier.”
“Easier for what?” I asked, completely puzzled.
“To get my bike out of the attic,” Tom said. “Now back to Main Street.”
Dotty came out of the alley and began to whistle as she walked across the street and down the other side.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “First she cries and now she’s acting happy as a bird.”
“That is because she doesn’t want her father to know,” Tom said.
* * *
Tom put his great brain to work but didn’t tell me anything until Saturday afternoon. I went with him to our barn, where he saddled up Dusty.
“Are we going for a ride?” I asked.
“You can’t come,” Tom said. “I am going to put the first part of my great brain’s plan into operation.”
Tom saw Dotty pulling weeds in the front yard of the adobe house. He rode Dusty at a gallop until he got in front of the house. He got off the mustang where Dotty couldn’t see him and unloosened the cinch on the saddle.
“Mind helping me?” he called to her. “Dusty always blows up his belly when I saddle him so the cinch won’t be too tight. I’m afraid to ride him at a gallop.”
It was a lie, but Dotty didn’t know. She came through the front gate. She talked softly to Dusty and rubbed his nose. “I’ll get his mind off it,” she said.
Tom pulled the cinch tight and fastened the buckle. “Thanks,” he said. “The cinch is good and tight now.”
“He’s a beautiful mustang,” Dotty said as she patted Dusty on the neck.
“Like to ride him?” Tom asked.
Dotty smiled for the first time since Tom had known her. “I’d love to,” she said.
Her blue eyes were bright as she dismounted from Dusty. “He sure is a well-gaited horse,” she said.
“You know a lot about horses, don’t you,” Tom said.
“I should,” she said. “I was raised with them. I just love horses. They are the only friends I ever had except a dog we had once.”
“You don’t like it here in Adenville, do you?” Tom asked.
“I hate it,” Dotty said with her blue eyes cold as steel. “Pa and me ain’t free anymore. He has to work all day in that shop, where I know he’s dyin’ inside. I gotta go to school. Me and Pa don’t belong here.”
“But you are here,” Tom said, “and should try to make the best of it. I’ll be your friend if you let me. And if you do, I’ll let you ride Dusty every Saturday afternoon. Not just a short ride like today but a good long ride.”
That night after supper Tom made his announcement. “I made friends with Dotty Blake today,” he said.
Papa stopped reading a book. Aunt Bertha stopped darning socks. Mamma stopped knitting.
“Thank the Lord,” Mamma said. “At least the poor thing has
one friend.”
“She is not a poor thing,” Tom said with rebuke in his voice. “She is just a kid who never had a chance to be friends with anybody but horses. That is how I made friends with her. I let her ride Dusty this afternoon.”
“How is it going in school for her?” Papa asked.
“She won’t learn anything,” Tom said. “She just sits there and refuses to try no matter how patient Mr. Standish is. But don’t worry, Papa, my great brain is working on it.”
“In that case,” Papa said, smiling at Mamma, “we have nothing to worry about.”
Tom took immediate advantage of this. “Of course, my great brain would work faster and better if there was some kind of reward in it for me,” he said.
“You will get two rewards,” Mamma said. “First, you will get your bicycle back, and second, you will get the best reward a person can get, in helping another person who needs help.”
From the look on Tom’s face I could tell he didn’t think that was much of a reward.
* * *
Tom and I were the only kids in school who talked to Dotty during morning and afternoon recess. I was as embarrassed as all get out, because if there was one thing a fellow didn’t do in Adenville, it was to have anything to do with girls. But it didn’t seem to bother Tom. Monday after school he walked part way home with Dotty, while I tagged along behind. We stopped in front of our house.
“Come over tonight after supper,” Tom said, “and I’ll show you a picture of the most beautiful horse you’ve ever seen. His name is Black Beauty.”
“I’ll ask Pa,” Dotty promised, and then she left us.
“What are you going to do?” I asked Tom.
“Put the second part of my great brain’s plan into action,” Tom said.
* * *
That night after Mamma and Aunt Bertha had finished the supper dishes, we were all sitting in the parlor.
“I invited Dotty to come here tonight,” Tom said. “I don’t know if she’ll come or not. But if she does, I don’t want anybody staring at her. I want everybody to pretend that a girl wearing boy’s clothing is a common thing.”
Mamma looked up from her knitting. “I’m glad you invited her,” she said. “And we certainly wouldn’t do anything to embarrass the girl.”
“What have you got in mind?” Papa asked.
“I’m going to make Dotty wish she could read,” Tom answered.
Just then the front door bell rang. Tom went to open the door. Dotty came into the parlor. Tom introduced her to Mamma and Aunt Bertha. She had already met Papa.
Tom walked with Dotty to our book case. “I promised to show you a picture of the most beautiful horse you’ve ever seen,” he said as he opened the book case.
He took out my copy of Black Beauty and sat down on the floor with Dotty. He showed her the cover picture of the beautiful black horse with his bright black coat, one white foot, and white star on his forehead.
“Gosh!” Dotty exclaimed. “He is a beauty.”
“There are more pictures in the book,” Tom said, “from the time he was just a colt being nursed by his mother.”
Tom opened the book and showed Dotty the colored pictures.
“I didn’t know they had books about horses,” Dotty said.
Tom waved his hand toward the book case. “There are books about everything in this world,” he said.
“What does it say in the book about Black Beauty?” Dotty asked eagerly.
“This is the story of Black Beauty from the time he was just a young colt. Anna Sewell, who wrote the book, grew up with horses and loved them very much. Just like you. But she lets Black Beauty tell his own story.”
“How can a horse do that?” Dotty asked, frowning.
“I told you anything can happen in a book. Can you imagine if a horse could talk?”
Dotty thought for a moment. “Maybe,” she said.
“That is what the author does in this book,” Tom explained. “She not only lets Black Beauty talk to his mother and other horses so you can understand what he says, but also made him so he can understand what people say. Of course, he couldn’t talk to people, but he could understand what they said. And he tells the story of his life just as you or I would tell the story of our lives.”
Tom opened the book to the first chapter. “The title of the first chapter is ‘My Early Home,’ “ he said. “Now you’ve got to imagine Black Beauty is telling you his life story. Ready?”
“Ready,” Dotty said as she shut her eyes.
Dotty sat in a trance as Tom read aloud to her. I found myself listening with great interest although I’d read the book many times. Papa let his pipe go out, Mamma stopped her knitting, Aunt Bertha sat with her hands in her lap, until Tom came to the end of chapter four.
“And that is how Black Beauty came to Birtwick Park and met Merrylegs and Ginger,” he said. “I think I’d better take you home now.”
Dotty was very reluctant to leave. “What happened to Black Beauty next?” she asked.
“If you could read,” Tom said, “I could lend you the book and you could read it. But you can’t read and it is getting late. Come tomorrow night and I’ll read some more to you.”
“T.D. and his great brain continue to amaze me,” Papa said after Tom and Dotty had left.
* * *
Tom continued to read Black Beauty to Dotty every night until Friday. When school let out, we walked part of the way home with her again, stopping in front of our house.
“Gosh, Tom,” Dotty said, “I can’t wait until tonight to find out what happened to Black Beauty next.” Then she clapped her hands with joy. “And tomorrow I get to ride Dusty again.”
Tom shook his head, and his face was very serious. “I’m afraid you’ll never find out what happened to Black Beauty or ever get to ride Dusty again,” he said.
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he had suddenly kicked Dotty on the behind.
Her lips began to tremble, and she almost burst out crying. “Why?” she whispered. “What did I do?”
“It isn’t what you did,” Tom said. “It is what you didn’t do. You aren’t even trying to learn anything in school. You won’t even try to learn how to read and write.”
“What has that got to do with it?” Dotty asked.
“Everything,” Tom answered. “I got a brand-new bike for Christmas. And do you know where it is? I’ll tell you. It is up in our attic. And do you know why it is up in our attic? I’ll tell you. Because of you.”
“Me?” Dotty asked. She looked at Tom as if my brother had suddenly gone plumb loco.
“My mother and father want you to learn how to read and write and won’t give me back my bike until you do,” Tom said.
“What business is it of theirs?” Dotty asked as she straightened up with that too-proud-to-be-helped look on her face.
“They made it their business because your father doesn’t care if you grow up ignorant like him,” Tom said, passing out insults as if he made a habit of it. “Wouldn’t you like to learn how to read, so you could read wonderful stories like Black Beauty?”
“Sure,” Dotty said, “but my Pa don’t want me to learn to read and write.” Then she looked as if she didn’t have a friend in this world. “And I can’t go against my Pa,” she sobbed. Then she turned and ran down the street, and I knew she was crying.
“Boy!” I said to my brother. “If Papa and Mamma knew what you just said to poor Dotty, they would give you the silent treatment for a whole year.”
“It is all a part of my great brain’s plan,” Tom said. “Now we can go see her father.”
Tom walked boldly into Mr. Stout’s shop with me following. Dotty’s father was mending a bridle. Tom looked at the back of Mr. Blake’s head. “I’m Tom Fitzgerald,” he said. “I want to talk to you, Mr. Blake.”
Dotty’s father turned around on the stool and rubbed a finger across his yellow mustache. “Dotty has told me about you,” he said.
“Know where she
is now?” Tom asked.
Mr. Blake shrugged his shoulders. “Home, I guess,” he said.
“You guessed right but only half of it,” Tom said. “She is home crying her eyes out, and it is all your fault. Oh, she won’t be crying when you get home. She’ll pretend that everything is just fine.”
“Whadya mean my fault?” Mr. Blake asked amazed.
“I told her I wouldn’t read to her anymore and she couldn’t ride Dusty anymore,” Tom said.
“But you can’t do that,” Mr. Blake said. “All she talks about is that book you’re readin’ to her and gettin’ to ride that horse.”
“If I can’t ride my bike on account of you,” Tom said, “I’m not going to let Dotty ride Dusty.” Then he told Mr. Blake about the deal he’d made with Papa and Mamma.
“Nuthin’ I hates worse’n meddlers,” Mr. Blake said. “What business is it of your ma and pa how I raise my daughter?”
“Dotty wants to learn,” Tom said. “She wants to get an education. But she isn’t going to try because she believes you don’t want her to learn anything.”
Mr. Blake slumped back on his stool. “I reckon as how that is what I made her think,” he said. “I kept tellin’ her I didn’t hold with book learnin’, but only because I didn’t want the other kids makin’ fun of her.”
“Dotty has a good mind,” Tom said. “She could learn quickly if she tried. I’ll bet Mr. Standish would let her skip a grade almost every year if she tried. But she isn’t going to try as long as she thinks you don’t want her to get an education.”
Mr. Blake looked steadily at Tom. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Tom said. “You tell Dotty you’ve changed your mind and want her to get an education. Tell her she must come to my house every weekday night for an hour and for two hours on Saturday mornings. That is your part of the deal. If you agree, I’ll read to Dotty for half an hour every weekday night from Black Beauty and other books and help her with her lessons the other half hour. And I’ll tutor her for two hours every Saturday. And I’ll let her ride Dusty every Saturday afternoon for as long as she wants.”
Mr. Blake stood up and grabbed his crutch. He hobbled to the counter and held out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, boy,” he said.
More Adventures of the Great Brain Page 4