“Morning, Homer,” the barber said as he came in. “I see we are open and ready for business.” It was the same thing that the barber said every Saturday morning.
“Good morning, Mr. Biggs,” said Homer, watching the barber take off his coat and hat and hang them on the same hook he always hung them on.
“Now he will put on his eyeshade,” thought Homer, “and his white jacket with the two buttons missing. Next he will take his razor from the little white cabinet marked sterilizer and begin to strop it.”
While the barber was stropping his razor the door opened and Homer knew exactly who it would be. He said, “Hello, Sheriff!” without even having to look.
“Good morning, everybody,” the sheriff greeted and sat down in the barber chair to be shaved.
Just as the barber finished shaving the sheriff and Homer finished shining the sheriff’s shoes, Uncle Ulysses arrived right on schedule and just as usual.
“Anything new?” asked Uncle Ulysses.
Homer shook his head, and the barber said, “Nope.”
“Things are mighty slow,” said the sheriff with a yawn.
“No new magazines?” asked Uncle Ulysses hopefully, looking through the same old stack. Then he glanced up and said, “Uhowh!” and the sheriff, the barber, Homer, and Uncle Ulysses moved over to the window to look.
Dulcy Dooner and Lawyer Stobbs were hurrying across the square just as fast as they could go.
“Something’s up!” said the barber.
“Where are they going?” mused Uncle Ulysses.
“Looks like they’re beaded for the hank—I mean headed for the bank!” said the sheriff.
“The bank doesn’t open until nine-thirty,” said Homer.
Clear across the square they heard Dulcy bang on the door of the bank and shout, “Open up! Open the door, I say!” And they saw the door of the bank open two minutes before nine-thirty and Dulcy and Lawyer Stobbs go inside.
“First time the bank ever let anybody in before nine-thirty for as long as I remember,” said Uncle Ulysses.
“Dulcy is sure excited about something,” said the sheriff. “Usually he isn’t even up this time of day.”
“Say, Homer,” said the barber, looking in the cash drawer, “I seem to be running out of change. You take these two dollars and run over to the bank and get me some nickels.”
“All right, Mr. Biggs,” Homer agreed, and the sheriff and the barber and Uncle Ulysses stood by the open door while he ran across the square and into the bank.
“Sh-h, listen!” said Uncle Ulysses. “I can hear Dulcy shoutin’.”
“He just yelled ‘ninety grand,’” whispered the barber.
“No, he didn’t,” Uncle Ulysses disagreed. “He said ‘I demand.’”
“Here comes Homer,” said the sheriff. “We’ll soon know what the fuss is all about. What’s goin’ on, son?” he asked.
“Has Dulcy got ninety grand?” asked the barber, reaching for his two dollars’ worth of nickels.
“What’s he demanding?” asked Uncle Ulysses.
“Dulcy is demanding and maybe he’s got ninety grand. That’s what he’s demanding to find out,” said Homer. “Dulcy’s uncle Durpee Dooner died of fever over in Africa and he left everything to Dulcy.”
“That’s nothing to be so mad about,” said Uncle Ulysses.
“Naw,” the barber agreed, “Dulcy will be a rich man.”
“Havin’ money should make him easier to get along with,” said the sheriff.
“Well, Dulcy hasn’t got any money, not yet anyway,” said Homer. “All he’s got so far is that old greenhouse and ten acres of land where Durpee Dooner used to run his seed business before he got to be so famous.”
“Why, Durpee Dooner must have made lots of money,” said the barber.
“Sure!” agreed the sheriff. “Bein’ such a samous fientist—I mean famous scientist—and goin’ on expeditions all over the world!”
“Well, Dulcy and Lawyer Stobbs can’t find any money. They have looked everywhere and gone through all of the papers. There were no bank books, or stocks, or bonds, or anything. All they found was a key to a safe deposit box, and that must be where all the money is. Dulcy is so mad because they are making him sign a lot of papers before they let him go in the vault and unlock the box.”
“It sounds like things have calmed down over there,” said Uncle Ulysses, cocking an ear. “I think I’ll just walk across and cash a small check.”
“I been needin’ a new blotter, so I’ll just come along,” said the sheriff.
The barber went along to get some more change, and Homer ran along behind to take the sheriff his coat. No telling, the sheriff might need his badge.
As they went into the bank the banker was just opening the heavy door of the vault.
“Just step inside, Mr. Dooner,” he said. “Here is the deposit box, number one hundred and thirteen.”
“It’s about time,” growled Dulcy, jabbing his key into the lock.
The sheriff, the barber, Uncle Ulysses, and Homer all crowded up to the counter and peered through the bars to watch.
Dulcy turned the key and pulled out the box. His hands shook so much with excitement that he had trouble opening the lid. He managed to get it open and then he let out a wild howl!
“What kinda joke is this?” he yelled, and he jumped around something awful, banging the vault, bumping the banker, and bumping the lawyer.
“Take care, Mr. Dooner! You’ll break it!” shouted the banker, grabbing Dulcy by the arm before he could throw the something that was in the box.
“Calm down, Dulcy,” the lawyer demanded. “Let’s be sensible and take it out in the light and examine it.”
“Of all the lousy tricks!” growled Dulcy, holding a small glass jar up to the light.
“What’s in it?” Uncle Ulysses demanded through the paying teller window.
“Aw, nuts!” said Dulcy, giving the jar a shake.
“Did you say nuts?” asked the sheriff.
“No!” yelled Dulcy. “It’s a lousy jar of seeds!”
“A most unusual place for keeping seeds,” said the banker.
“Maybe they are unusual seeds,” Homer suggested.
“Yes, Dulcy, they are no doubt very valuable seeds,” said the lawyer. “That little glass jar might be worth a fortune. Why else would Durpee Dooner keep it locked up in the bank? Look here, there’s a label that says Experiment 13.”
The thought of owning a jar of valuable seeds made Dulcy less mad, but he was far from happy. He shook his head sadly and said, “People inherit money every day, and I have to be the one that inherits a jar of seeds—an experiment at that!”
“What are you going to do with your seeds, Dulcy?” asked Homer.
“Well,” said Dulcy, rubbing his chin and frowning at the jar, “I’ll plant some of them, I guess.” He crammed the jar of seeds into his pocket and started for the door.
“Just a minute, Dulcy,” the lawyer cautioned. “Better keep them locked up here in the bank and take out some of them when you are ready to plant.”
“Yes, by all means, Mr. Dooner,” advised the banker. “The seeds are apparently very valuable, and you must protect them.”
Dulcy thought for a minute and then did as the lawyer and the banker suggested. He locked the jar of seeds up in the deposit box and went off to his greenhouse to prepare a place to plant.
“Too bad Dulcy didn’t find a nice stack of government savings bonds in the deposit box,” said Uncle Ulysses when they had arrived back at the barbershop.
“Yup!” said the sheriff. “With savings bonds you know just what’s what.”
“Dulcy’s Uncle Durpee was a great scientist,” reminded the barber, “and that jar of seeds might be worth millions.”
“Durpee was a great hand at breeding new plants and improving old ones,” said Uncle Ulysses. “He was an up-and-coming fellow for his generation—far ahead of his time.”
“Remember the giant squash
he developed?” asked the barber.
“Yup,” said the sheriff, “and remember the Durpee Tremadous Tomentoes—I mean Tremendous Tomatoes?”
“The Strawberry Tree was the best thing, I always thought,” said Homer.
“But the Durpee Dooner Honey Onion was the most remarkable plant he ever bred,” Uncle Ulysses asserted. “Looked just like any old onion but tasted just like honey. A Honey Onion pie with meringue on top is one of the world’s best foods. Durpee Dooner was a genius, no doubt about it!”
“Well, what do you think Dulcy’s seeds will grow into?” asked the barber.
“They were little bitsy things like grass seed,” said Homer.
“Something rare that old Durpee brought back from one of his expeditions to Asia or Africa, no doubt,” said Uncle Ulysses.
“No,” said Homer, “the jar was labeled Experiment 13, so the seeds must be for some sort of plants that he developed himself.”
“Farmer’s Almanac says a mild spring,” said the sheriff.
“Time to start planting next month,” said the barber.
“It’ll still be a long time though before we find out what Dulcy’s seeds grow into,” said the sheriff.
“Dulcy’s got a greenhouse,” reminded Uncle Ulysses.
“Golly,” said Homer, “Dulcy can plant today!”
And Dulcy did plant that same day. By eleven o’clock he was back downtown with a truck, buying fertilizer and vitamin plant food. And he was back at the bank again before noon to get some seeds. He carefully counted out twelve seeds, and one more for good measure, into an envelope. Once more he locked up the glass jar in his safe deposit box and rushed off in the direction of his greenhouse.
By four o’clock, when Homer stopped by the greenhouse, there was Dulcy inside admiring the thirteen damp mounds of earth where he had planted his seeds.
“Hello, Mr. Dooner,” said Homer.
“Hello, Homer,” said Dulcy. “I’m pretty tired, and my back is sore from haulin’ fertilizer and from spadin’.”
“You need some help,” Homer suggested. “School is out next month, and Freddy and I could help out doing hoeing and spraying—that is, if the seeds grow into anything.”
“You’re hired, Homer, and Freddy too!” said Dulcy. “They’ll grow all right,” he added confidently. “I put two bushels of vitamin plant food around each seed.”
“Whe-e-ew!” whistled Homer. “What kind of plants do you think they will be, Dulcy?”
“I dunno,” said Dulcy. “But whatever they are, they’ll be the biggest and the best.”
Sunday afternoon Homer called Freddy on the phone and said, “Hi, Freddy. Have you heard about Dulcy’s seeds?”
“Gosh, yes, Homer! Everybody in Centerburg’s heard about Dulcy’s seeds,” said Freddy. “Everybody’s talking about them. The minister even preached about them this morning. ‘If that’s what you sow, that’s what you reap.’”
“Dulcy’s already planted thirteen of them,” said Homer.
“Yeah, I know,” Freddy said. “And the jar said Experiment 13. My grandmother says no good can come of that.”
“That’s just superstition,” said Homer. “You’re not superstitious, are you, Freddy? Because Dulcy’s going to give us a job watering, weeding and taking care of the plants when school’s out.”
“Oh, gosh, Homer, that’ll be swell. Mebbe they will be Strawberry Trees!”
“Nobody knows,” said Homer. “But working for Dulcy we’ll find out as soon as anybody. We’ll stop at Dulcy’s tomorrow after school and see what’s happening.”
“Okay, Homer,” said Freddy. “Good-by.”
“Good-by, Freddy,” said Homer. “See you tomorrow.”
Homer and Freddy stopped at the greenhouse the next day after school; they stopped every day all week, and nothing exciting was going on. The seeds had not come up. Dulcy was getting more and more restless and complaining about his back. Along about Friday he started complaining about a stiff neck from watching so steadily for the seeds to come up.
On Saturday morning Homer was late getting to the barbershop. He rushed in and shouted, “They’re up!”
“What’s up, son?” asked the sheriff.
“Dulcy’s plants! Dulcy’s plants are up, all thirteen of them!” Homer said.
“Let’s go look!” said Uncle Ulysses, throwing down his magazine.
And the barber and Homer and Uncle Ulysses went over to the greenhouse with the sheriff in his car.
“Look!” said Dulcy, proudly displaying the thirteen tender green shoots.
“Healthy-looking plants,” said the barber.
“You can almost see them grow!” said Uncle Ulysses.
“You can see them grow, if you look closely,” said Dulcy, and he started scooping vitamin plant food out of a bag and sprinkling it generously around the plants.
Even with a truckload of vitamin plant food to help out, the plants took weeks to get as high as Homer’s head. The tallest one of the thirteen plants came just to the bottom of his ear on the day school was out and Homer and Freddy started working at the greenhouse.
They sprinkled the plants with vitamin plant food and they sprinkled them with water. They carried bags of fertilizer and they listened to Dulcy complain about his back.
“Gosh, Homer, it seems like it takes forever for a plant to grow anything but stems and leaves,” Freddy complained. “Why can’t these things make a few berries or squashes or something, so we’ll know what they are?”
“They have got a lot of stems and leaves,” Homer agreed. “Sometimes when I look at them I think they’ll be bushes, and other times they remind me of vines.”
“They’re growing faster now that the weather is warmer,” said Freddy. “Look, Homer, this one has grown almost a foot today!”
Sure enough, when Homer stood next to the plant the top reached way above his ear; it was way above his head.
The next morning when Homer and Freddy arrived at Dulcy’s the tops of the plants were right up touching the glass roof of the greenhouse.
“We have to break out some sections of the roof and give them room to grow,” shouted Dulcy.
“Gosh, Dulcy, they’re going to be trees!” Freddy exclaimed.
“They’re really a-growin’ now, son!” said Dulcy with a happy chuckle. “You boys grab a couple of hammers and start knockin’ some openings in the roof. You want to be careful,” he cautioned, “when you break the glass, that it doesn’t hurt the plants.”
While Dulcy went off downtown to get another truckload of vitamin plant food, Homer and Freddy climbed around on the roof knocking out openings for the plants to grow through.
Freddy swung his hammer, and a pane of glass went out with a loud crash! and a few small pieces slid tinkle-tinkle down the slant of the roof.
“This is the most fun we’ve had on this job yet, Freddy,” shouted Homer with a laugh.
“Yeah, Homer, but there will be a lot of”—crash-tinkle-tinkle—“pieces to pick up,” said Freddy as he swung his hammer down.
“That’s the sort of job that hurts Dulcy’s back,” said Homer, stopping to rest. “Holy smoke, Freddy! Look at ’em grow!”
“Wow!” said Freddy, and he dropped his hammer.
The plants were pushing right up through the holes in the glass. It seemed as though they were glad to be out in the warm summer sunshine. Homer peered through the glass and saw a large stalk pushing against the roof. He bashed out a hole and the plant popped through, spread its leaves, and seemed so grateful that Homer politely said, “You’re welcome,” without thinking.
By the time Dulcy returned with the vitamin plant food every single stalk was through the roof, pushing its way into the sunshine, the new green leaves rustling in the summer breeze. Dulcy went right to work, spreading vitamin plant food around the bases of the stalks, while Homer and Freddy picked up the glass.
As stories of how Dulcy’s plants were growing spread through Centerburg, people began to come ou
t to have a look. Dulcy charged fifty cents admission to the greenhouse and made fifty-nine dollars the first afternoon. By the end of the week, however, business was bad. Not that the plants stopped growing, or that people stopped coming out to look. The plants grew faster than ever—that was the trouble. There was three times as much plant outside as there was inside the greenhouse. Large crowds gathered on the road every day to watch them grow. Dulcy reduced the price of admission to ten cents but still not many came inside. He was pretty mad about it, but there was not a thing he could do.
“After all, you can’t keep people from lookin’ at a forest in the middle of a ten-acre lot,” said Uncle Ulysses, and that’s just about what Dulcy’s plants looked like.
One day the rumor went around that there were melons eight feet across inside the greenhouse. Business improved, but not for long, because there were no melons, not even little ones. There were no berries or fruit of any kind, no vegetables, not even a suggestion of a blossom.
“They ain’t very pretty plants,” said the sheriff, who was on hand every day to handle the traffic problem.
“They’re pretty enough,” said Dulcy, taking offense, “and bigger than anything you will ever grow!”
“The plants have a familiar shape,” said Homer, “and it seems as though I ought to recognize the leaves.”
“Maybe they’re potatoes, and under the ground,” Freddy suggested.
“If they’re potatoes, Dulcy,” said the sheriff with a chuckle, “you’ll have to find a sheam stovel—I mean steam shovel—to dig ’em out.”
“Just you wait and see!” Dulcy shouted. “These plants will grow the biggest—the biggest—well, the biggest somethings ever grown,” and he stamped into his greenhouse to spread on more vitamin plant food.
Two whole weeks went by and Dulcy’s plants were producing nothing more remarkable than leaves and stems, but leaves and stems they produced like mad. The plants had become the most important feature of the Centerburg skyline, towering way above the Centerburg courthouse and the smokestack of the Enders Products Company.
Centerburg Tales Page 6