The Great Brain Does It Again

by John D. Fitzgerald

  “Of course,” Mamma said. “It’s Nellie Nelms’s turn. But we will start the day after tomorrow on the quilt.”

  I was surprised to see how interested Tom had become in the conversation. He stopped reading and just sat there. I knew his great brain was working on something because of the furrows in his forehead.

  I couldn’t see why the ragbag would interest Tom. Mamma never threw anything away. When our clothes wore out she laundered them and put them in the ragbag in the bathroom closet. When she needed a rag she always took out something white, like a worn-out suit of underwear. All the colored pieces in the ragbag she kept to make patch quilts. I was so curious as to why the ragbag interested Tom that I stayed awake that night until he came up to bed.

  “Why were you so interested in the ragbag?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

  “My great brain has come up with a plan to make Sweyn stop wearing those fancy duds,” Tom said. “We’ll put the plan into action tomorrow afternoon when Mamma and Aunt Bertha leave for the Ladies Sewing Circle. Don’t ask me any more questions. There are a few details my great brain has to figure out.”

  * * *

  I was as curious as all get out, but I didn’t learn any more until the next afternoon. I was sitting on the back porch steps with Tom and Frankie. Mamma opened the kitchen door. She was all dressed up.

  “Bertha and I are leaving now,” she said.

  We walked to the side of the house and waited until we saw Mamma and Aunt Bertha going down the street.

  “Everything is working out perfect,” Tom said. “Mamma and Aunt Bertha are gone. Papa has Sweyn helping him at the Advocate. Let’s go.”

  Tom got the ragbag and dumped its contents on the floor.

  “What’s the idea?” I asked.

  “Yeah, what?” Frankie said.

  “Sweyn’s girl, Marie Vinson, has been at Saint Mary’s Academy in Salt Lake City since school started,” Tom said. “She hasn’t seen any of us since last summer. Now do as I tell you and stop asking questions. Strip down to your underwear and take off your shoes and stockings.”

  Tom began looking through the pile of stuff from the ragbag. Mamma had a system. When we got a new suit it became our Sunday best, which we wore to church. When it became too worn for church we wore the suit to school. When it became too worn for school we wore the suit for playclothes, and it remained playclothes as long as Mamma could mend and patch it. Then it was fit only for the ragbag.

  Tom picked out an old Buster Brown suit of Frankie’s that was worn and patched. Then he picked out a worn-out suit for himself and one for me. He hunted until he found us all worn and patched shirts, and he tore a few of the patches off before he handed them to us. All the clothes were too small for us because we’d grown. When we got dressed we looked like three ragamuffins from the poorest family in town.

  “Now here is the plan,” Tom said. “I want Marie Vinson to think Papa and Mamma are spending so much money buying Sweyn fancy duds that the three of us have to wear rags. Let’s go.”

  “But no kid goes barefooted this time of the year,” I protested.

  “I want her to think we don’t even have stockings and shoes to wear,” Tom said.

  We sneaked down alleys without being seen until we were in back of the Vinson home.

  “We know Mr. Vinson is at work,” Tom said, “and Mrs. Vinson is at the Ladies Sewing Circle meeting. That means Marie must be alone in the house. Follow me.”

  He led us to the back porch and knocked on the kitchen door. A moment later Marie Vinson opened the door.

  “We didn’t want to disgrace you by going to the front door,” Tom said. “But I’ve got to see my brother, Sweyn, and ask him if I can use his mustang, Dusty. Is he here?”

  Marie stood bug-eyed and tongue-tied for about a minute before she could speak.

  “You . . . you . . . you can’t be,” she finally said. “No, I know you are Sweyn’s brothers. Why are you dressed like that? Are you going to a masquerade party?”

  “No,” Tom said, sadly shaking his head. “These are the clothes we wear to school and all the time now. You see, it has cost Papa and Mamma so much money to send Sweyn back east to school and buy him all those fancy clothes, there just isn’t any money left to buy clothes for us.”

  “But that isn’t fair,” Marie said.

  “Papa and Mamma can’t help it,” Tom said. “Sweyn is their pet. They give him everything he wants even if it means we have to wear rags. I guess he isn’t here. I wonder where he could be?”

  “He told me that he had to help your father at the Advocate this afternoon,” Marie said.

  “Thank you,” Tom said. “I’ll see him there.”

  “And when you do,” Marie said, “just tell him that I never want to see him again, the selfish thing.”

  She shut the door. Tom winked at Frankie and me. We had a hard time not laughing until we reached the alley. Then we laughed all the way home. We put the old clothes back in the ragbag and got dressed in our regular clothes.

  “She went for it hook, line, and sinker,” Tom said grinning. “The first part of my great brain’s plan was a complete success.”

  Frankie looked up at Tom. “But won’t Sweyn be mad?” he asked.

  “If my plan works,” Tom said, “he will not only be angry but also heartbroken. We can’t take a chance of Marie Vinson seeing us dressed like this. We’ll have to play in our own backyard the rest of the day.”

  * * *

  That evening after supper Sweyn got all dressed up in another new suit, new shirt, and new necktie. He sat in the parlor staring at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  Papa noticed. “Calling on your girl again tonight?” he asked.

  “At seven o’clock,” Sweyn said.

  “Time moves slowly for lovers when they are apart,” Papa said.

  That made Sweyn blush.

  Mamma and Aunt Bertha finished the supper dishes and came into the parlor. Mamma looked at Sweyn.

  “Aren’t you going to spend one evening at home during your Christmas vacation?” she asked.

  “I’ll stay home Christmas Eve and Christmas night and of course the night before I go back east,” Sweyn said.

  Papa took a puff on his after-dinner cigar. “You’ll do better than that,” he said. “We do not mind sharing you with Marie Vinson but we don’t want her monopolizing all of your time. I think seeing her every other night is enough.”

  Sweyn looked as disappointed as a dog would if you took away its bone.

  “All right, Dad,” he said as he stood up. Then he gave us a wave of his derby hat and that ‘toodle-oo’ business and left.

  * * *

  About twenty minutes later Sweyn returned. Papa was reading a farm magazine. Aunt Bertha was knitting. Mamma was crocheting a doily. Tom was reading a book. Frankie and I were playing dominoes on the floor. We all stopped what we were doing and stared at Sweyn. He walked, no, he staggered, as if he were drunk, to a chair and slumped down in it. His face was pale. He looked positively sick.

  “Are you ill?” Mamma asked.

  Sweyn pressed his hand to his heart. “Only here,” he said. “You won’t have to worry about Marie monopolizing any more of my time.”

  Mamma was the first to speak. “What happened between you and Marie?” she asked.

  “I rang the front doorbell,” Sweyn said as if he were reading a funeral service over a grave. “She opened the door. She gave me a nasty look and said she never wanted to see me again because I was the most selfish person in the world.”

  “Selfish?” Mamma asked.

  Sweyn nodded sadly. “That is what she called me just before she slammed the door in my face,” he said.

  “Are you sure she wasn’t just teasing you?” Mamma asked. “Young girls do that you know.”

  “I’m sure,” Sweyn said. “I rang the doorbell again. This time her mother answered it. She told me that Marie never wanted to see me again. I just don’t understand it. We’ve been going toget
her since I was thirteen. We wrote to each other every week while she was at Saint Mary’s Academy and I was in Boylestown. We had a sort of understanding that some day . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence as he stood up. “I think I’ll go up to my room,” he said.

  We watched him leave and heard him go upstairs to his room. Mamma looked very concerned.

  “I’m going to phone Ida Vinson and find out what this is all about,” she said.

  I thought for sure Mamma was going to blow Tom’s plan sky-high but Papa saved the day.

  “People who interfere in young lovers’ quarrels are asking for trouble,” he said.

  “But I don’t understand the selfish part,” Mamma said.

  “I think I do,” Papa said. “Sweyn had promised to go horseback riding with Marie this afternoon. He was quite upset when I told him I needed him at the Advocate. He phoned Marie from the office. And being so young I guess she considered it selfish of him not to keep his promise and go riding with her.”

  * * *

  Later Tom surprised me by going upstairs with Frankie and me when it was our bedtime. He could stay up an hour later if he wanted.

  “Now for the second part of my plan,” Tom said. “You two wait here.”

  “No,” I said. “We want to listen.”

  “All right,” Tom said, “but take off your shoes.”

  Frankie and I took off our shoes. We followed Tom to the door of Sweyn’s bedroom. The transom was open. We could hear Sweyn sort of crying and groaning at the same time.

  “Got him,” Tom whispered.

  Then he motioned for Frankie and me to stand on the side of the doorway so we wouldn’t be seen when the door was opened. Tom knocked on the door.

  “Just a minute,” Sweyn called.

  It was more than a minute before he opened the door. Tom entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  “I heard you crying,” Tom said. “You really must be stuck on Marie Vinson.”

  Frankie and I could hear perfectly through the open transom.

  “I know I’m only fifteen,” Sweyn said, “but I’ve been in love with Marie for two years. And now it is all over. I think I’ll run away to sea.”

  “It’s too bad you aren’t old enough to join the French Foreign Legion,” Tom said. “But I guess you are old enough to become a cabin boy on a ship.”

  “I don’t care what happens to me,” Sweyn cried out. “Without Marie life has lost all meaning.”

  “You’ve really got it bad,” Tom said. “I guess you would do just about anything to fix things like they were before tonight.”

  “I’ll say I would,” Sweyn said.

  “Would you stop wearing all those fancy eastern duds and just wear your old blue serge suit until you go back to school?” Tom asked.

  “What has the clothing I wear got to do with Marie?” Sweyn asked.

  “Do you want my great brain to fix things between you and Marie or not?” Tom demanded.

  “Sure, if you can,” Sweyn said.

  “I can,” Tom said. “But first you will have to give me your word of honor you will never mention it to Papa or Mamma.”

  “I’m beginning to smell something,” Sweyn said.

  “Smell all you want,” Tom said. “I came here to help you make up with your girl. But you don’t want my help. So go back to your bawling and groaning.”

  “Wait,” Sweyn said. “I’ll do anything you say if you get me back my girl. I give you my word I won’t say anything to Papa or Mamma.”

  “And will you also give me your word that you will stop wearing all those fancy duds you bought back east?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know what my clothing has to do with it,” Sweyn said, “but I give you my word.”

  “All right,” Tom said. “Tomorrow morning after breakfast we’ll straighten this whole thing out. And remember to wear your old blue serge suit with the knee britches.”

  * * *

  The next morning Tom, Frankie, and I all got dressed in our Sunday best suits. Sweyn wore his old blue serge. Mamma was goggle-eyed when she saw us enter the kitchen for breakfast.

  “Why are you three boys all dressed up?” she asked. “And Sweyn D., why are you wearing your old suit?”

  “We’ll do the chores later,” Tom said. “But first we have to call on Marie Vinson and convince her that S. D. isn’t a selfish person.”

  Papa wasn’t fooled. “I have a feeling,” he said to Tom, “that this is another one of your great brain schemes.”

  Sweyn spoke before Tom could. “I don’t care what it is as long as Marie and I make up,” he said.

  * * *

  After breakfast the four of us went to the Vinson home. Mrs. Vinson opened the front door.

  “We must talk to Marie,” Tom said.

  “She is up in her room,” Mrs. Vinson said. “I’ll call her.”

  In a couple of minutes Marie came to the front door. She looked at Sweyn and then stared bug-eyed at Tom, Frankie, and me.

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said, “but we played a mean joke on you and Sweyn yesterday. We dug those old clothes out of our ragbag. We have plenty of clothes to wear. Our father is quite well off and can afford to send Sweyn back east to school and buy him the latest fashions in clothing.”

  “I don’t understand,” Marie said. “Why did you let me think you had to dress like ragamuffins because of Sweyn?”

  “To make him stop wearing those fancy duds in Adenville,” Tom said. “Being a girl maybe you won’t understand. But all the fellows are making fun of J. D. and me because they say we’ve got a sissy dude for a brother. We will both be getting into fights every day as long as Sweyn wears those fancy clothes. Anyway, if you love him it won’t make any difference what kind of clothes he wears.”

  Marie stepped out on the porch. She took hold of Sweyn’s hand and smiled at him.

  “I wouldn’t care if you called on me wearing overalls,” she said. “I cried all night.”

  “So did I,” Sweyn said.

  And that is how The Great Brain got rid of a dude. And for my money, if being in love can make you stay awake and cry all night, I hope I never fall in love.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Chute-the-Chute

  WITH SWEYN NO LONGER WEARING his fancy duds to humiliate Tom, Frankie, and me, it turned out to be a happy Christmas except for one thing. It had never occurred to me until that year that the mere preparation for Christmas was almost as enjoyable as the holiday itself.

  Sweyn, Tom, Frankie, and I all went with Papa in our buggy to the forest to get a Christmas tree. Papa finally picked a blue spruce that was just the right size. It was so beautiful I hated to see him and Sweyn cut it down. We placed the bottom of the tree trunk in a bucket in our parlor and wedged it with pieces of coal to hold the tree upright. Then we filled the bucket with water. Mamma covered the bucket with a white sheet and then the tree was ready to decorate. We didn’t have fancy ornaments except for an angel that went on top of the tree. We used needles and thread to make strings of red cranberries and white popcorn to put on the tree. We put pieces of cotton on the branches to make it look like snow. We hung painted pinecones and red-striped candy canes on the tree. During the week before Christmas our big kitchen was filled with wonderful smells as Mamma and Aunt Bertha made candy, cookies, cakes and pies, and other goodies.

  Frankie was six years old and still believed in Santa Claus. I guess he really did because he wanted Papa to clean our fireplace chimney so Santa wouldn’t get his red and white suit dirty. Papa assured him that Santa used magic not to get soot on his suit. On Christmas Eve we hung our stockings on the mantelpiece knowing they would be filled with an orange, candy, and nuts in the morning. And we crowded around Mamma at the piano and sang Christmas carols until it was time to go to bed.

  We never opened our presents until Christmas morning. I got the repeating air rifle that I wanted. Frankie got a new wagon. Tom received a wallet. Sweyn got a pair of cuff links with his initials o
n them. Mamma gave Papa a stickpin with a pearl on it. He gave her one of those watches that ladies pin to their blouses. We all gave Aunt Bertha a present. There were also presents from Aunt Cathie and Uncle Mark and from Boylestown, Pennsylvania, presents arrived from Uncle Harry and Aunt Mary Fitzgerald with whom Sweyn lived while going to high school.

  Everything was perfect except the presents that Tom, Frankie, and I chipped in to buy for Papa and Mamma. We ordered a hat from an advertisement in a magazine that I thought was elegant for Mamma. It had an imitation bird’s nest on top with an imitation canary in the nest. Mamma had always bought Papa neckties, which were plain colored or polka dots. We decided to give Papa a treat and bought him a beauty with big gold and blue stripes. Our parents were not only bug-eyed but tongue-tied when they saw the presents on Christmas morning.

  That evening Mamma made all of us boys take a dose of castor oil because we’d eaten so much candy and sweets besides a turkey dinner. I woke up about ten o’clock and had to go downstairs to the bathroom. I got halfway down the stairway and stopped. I could hear Papa and Mamma talking in the parlor.

  “I know the boys meant well,” Papa said, “but I wouldn’t wear that necktie to a dog fight. And as for that hat they bought you, only a dance hall girl from one of the saloons would wear a hat like that.”

  “I know, dear,” Mamma said. “But you will wear the necktie and I’ll wear the hat.”

  “But what will people say when they see us?” Papa asked.

  “I don’t care what people will say,” Mamma said. “All I care about is not hurting the boys’ feelings. They gave us the presents because they love us. We’ll show how much we love them by wearing the necktie and the hat.”

  “You are right, of course,” Papa said. “All we can hope for is that I spill some printer’s ink on the tie and you get caught in a rainstorm and ruin the hat.”

  I sneaked back upstairs. Then I coughed as I came down the stairway. Mamma heard me and met me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you ill, John D.?” she asked.

  “No, Mamma,” I said. “I just have to go to the bathroom.”