Freddy elbowed his way through the crowd in search of Old Whibley.
“Looking for your mouthpiece?” said Jinx. “He’s gone back to the woods.”
“But I wanted to thank him,” said Freddy.
“You know he doesn’t like to be thanked for anything.”
“I know. But my goodness, he saved my life! I ought to send him up a box of mice or something. I don’t see yet why Mr. Garble slept so hard. Yes, I do, too, because nobody can look at Ernest, Jr. and stay awake. But it’s funny he didn’t wake up when the judge called to him.”
“Old Whibley knew that if he once got to sleep, nothing could wake him up,” said the cat. “Because you see, Freddy, Peter and Robert and Sniffy Wilson and Randolph and I have spent the last two nights keeping him awake. It was true, what he said about not getting a wink of sleep. We thumped on the doors and yelled down the chimney and scratched on the window-panes, and Randolph got right inside the drawer in the table by his bed and gnawed. Boy, is that Randolph some gnawer! Funny what a lot of racket a beetle can make. It sounded like somebody was sawing wood. Old Garble was scared into fits. And when he finally got so sleepy that even ghost noises wouldn’t keep him awake any longer, your pal Jerry Peters would bite his toes. That’s a brave ant, that Jerry. He might easy have got squashed. But he insisted on helping, and I guess he was the one in the end who really turned the trick.”
“Well, my goodness,” said Freddy, “how can I ever thank you? That was a wonderful thing to do. It’s easy enough to do things for a friend in the daytime, but when you sit up after bedtime to do them, that’s something different!”
“Well, if you really want to thank us,” said Jinx, “there’s one thing. You know our scrap drive has only a week to run. You haven’t done much on it lately—Oh, I’m not blaming you. You couldn’t. But we’ve checked up, and if we had just five hundred pounds more, we’d win the prize. Because the whole countryside has been scraped. The last time I sang,—that was over in Tushville last week—we only got wood, no iron at all. The farmers are all through, they’ve got all they can.”
“Well, what can I do, then?” asked Freddy.
“You can figure out some scheme to get that iron deer on Mrs. Underdunk’s lawn. Now wait a minute—don’t tear your mittens. If we have that deer, Mr. Bean gets the prize. I know, I know—it looks impossible. But think it over for a day or so. Give Old Whibley a buzz; he might have some ideas. Gosh, Freddy, if anybody can dope out a plan, you can. We rely on you.”
“We-e-ll,” said Freddy, beginning to feel reliable, “I’ll try.”
Outside the courthouse a crowd was waiting, and when Freddy appeared they set up a cheer. He bowed and smiled, and then a little girl came forward and curtsied and handed him a bouquet of hothouse flowers. Freddy was so touched that he couldn’t speak, but he kissed the little girl. Then he got into the phaeton beside Mr. Bean, and the small animals scrambled in too, and they drove off home.
Chapter 12
After the successful outcome of the trial, Freddy felt that his troubles were over. But both Mr. Dimsey and the sheriff warned him that he was still in danger. “Mrs. Underdunk and Herb Garble want to run this town,” said Mr. Dimsey. “And with the Guardian behind them, they could do it, if it wasn’t for the Bean Home News. There wasn’t ever anybody to speak up against ’em before. They won’t rest easy until they’ve put you and me out of business.”
“Well then,” said Freddy, “the thing to do is put the Guardian out of business first.”
“That’s not so easy,” said the editor. “Of course, it’s practically out of business now, for more than half the people in town have stopped taking it. But we’ll have to watch our step. Mrs. Underdunk is busy with her party this week, but as soon as that’s over, look out for trouble.”
Freddy had heard about the party. It was to be given in honor of Senator Blunder, a relative of Mrs. Underdunk’s late husband, who was coming for a short visit. He was the most distinguished guest she had ever entertained, and so she was anxious to get all the glory she could out of him, and she had invited nearly everyone in town.
Of course none of the Bean animals had been invited. But Freddy felt that he ought to go hide somewhere so that he could look on, for although Mrs. Underdunk was his enemy, the readers of the Home News would expect to find in its pages some description of such a gay social event. Some of the other animals thought they’d like to get a look at the party too.
“I haven’t ever attended a real high-up society affair,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I guess it’s a good thing. I’m too big and clumsy to take much ease in one of those little gilt chairs, and I’m kind of short on fancy talk, too. But I’d like to go look on.”
So on the night of the party, every bush in the grounds of the Underdunk mansion had one or two animals behind it. It was easy to see what was going on, for it was a warm evening, and the long French windows of the drawing room were wide open. For a time the guests stood about in groups, and Freddy, peeking out through a syringa bush with Jinx and Mrs. Wiggins, saw many old friends—though it was sometimes hard to recognize them with their company manners and their best clothes on. Then an orchestra, which was hidden behind potted palms at one end of the room, struck up a waltz, and soon the cream of Centerboro society were whirling sedately about the room in time to the music.
They saw Mr. Weezer dancing with Miss Biles, and Judge Willey footing it with Miss Halsey, and then the sheriff flashed by with his arm about old Mrs. Peppercorn’s waist. The sheriff had on a dress suit with his star pinned to the lapel, and he had waxed the ends of his mustache so that they stood up like tusks on each side of his nose, and at every turn old Mrs. Peppercorn was whirled right off her feet. But she didn’t seem to mind. And then they saw Mrs. Underdunk sweep majestically past in the arms of Senator Blunder. Mrs. Underdunk glittered with diamonds as she revolved, and she was a head taller than her partner, who was a short heavy man with a noble brow over which a thick lock of iron gray hair fell in a statesmanlike sweep. The senator was doing a rather tricky step which Mrs. Underdunk seemed to have some trouble in following, and as they came around again they stopped dancing and walked out through the window.
“I can teach you the step better out here,” said the senator in his booming voice. “It is the latest thing in Washington.” And he began solemnly capering in front of her. “Two to the left, kick, two to the right—”
But at that point Mrs. Wiggins began to laugh. She didn’t laugh out loud, but she shook so hard that the syringa bush rocked and quivered.
“Senator!” Mrs. Underdunk clutched her escort’s arm. “There’s somebody behind that bush!”
The senator stepped quickly behind her and standing on tiptoe peered over her shoulder. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “So there is! But fear nothing, madam. We statesmen go always in peril of our political enemies. I shall know how to cope with the rascals. But first—” and he seized her arm and pulled her towards the house, “—first let me conduct you to a place of safety.”
But Mrs. Underdunk shook him off. “Please go in, senator,” she said, “and send my brother to me.”
“A Blunder, madam,” said the senator backing towards the window, “never retreats. Too often have we bearded the assassin’s knife, to quail at the trembling of a bush. And yet,” he said, as the bush trembled again, “should I be struck down, into what hands would fall the reins of the ship of state? Alas, madam, I must abandon you, in the interests of our country. I will call your brother.” And he disappeared into the house.
“I like Charles’s line of talk better,” whispered Jinx. “What’ll we do, Freddy?”
But before Freddy could make up his mind, Mr. Garble appeared. Mrs. Underdunk pointed out the bush and he walked towards it. “Come out of there,” he said.
If the animals had bolted and run for it, they could certainly have got away. But Mr. Garble would chase them; he would scare up other animals behind every bush they passed, and even if he didn’t catch any of the
m, he would know that they were the Bean animals. And that would mean trouble for Mr. Bean.
So Freddy decided to take a chance. “Keep under cover,” he whispered, and stepped out from behind the bush.
“Great Jumping Jerusha!” shouted Mr. Garble. “You!” And he made a rush for the pig.
But Freddy knew what he had to do. He dashed at Mr. Garble, darting between his legs and upsetting him, and then ran down along the house towards the back.
But Freddy knew what he had to do.
As he turned the corner he found himself in a sort of paved court. To his left was the house, to his right, the garage, and in front was a low glassed greenhouse or conservatory. The chauffeur was sitting in the garage door, and jumped up as Freddy rounded the corner of the house. The conservatory door was open, and Freddy darted in.
It was steamy-warm in the conservatory, and smelt nice. But you do not stop to smell flowers when you are fleeing for your life. Freddy looked around. There were only two doors—the one that he had come through, and one at the far end, which was ajar. He made for the latter, pushed through it, and found that he was in a back hall surrounded by closed doors. From behind the first came voices and a clatter of dishes. He tried the second, found a stairway, went up it, then along a hallway at the end of which was a door. No light came through the keyhole, and Freddy went in. Footsteps were coming up the stairs, and the chauffeur’s voice said: “He must have gone into one of the rooms.”
Freddy was so scared that his tail had lost its curl. But Freddy himself had not lost his presence of mind. He closed the door quietly and switched on the light. On a chair was a suitcase, marked in large gold letters: SENATOR A. P. BLUNDER. On the bed was a long black coat, and a wide brimmed black hat. Freddy quietly put them on, then sat down at a little desk with his back to the door. He had barely done this when someone knocked.
“Who is there?” said Freddy, in a deep voice.
The door opened and Mr. Garble stuck his head in. “Sorry to bother you, Senator,” he said, “but have you seen a pig anywhere around?”
“A pig!” boomed Freddy. “Sir, I am writing a speech which will shake the country. What have I to do with pigs? Go away.”
“Whee!” said Freddy. “I must get out of here before he finds the real senator, and comes back up again.” He listened a moment at the door, but could hear nothing, so he tiptoed out into the hall. Perhaps in his disguise he could escape by the way he had come in. And he was just starting down the back stairs when he heard the siren down at the fire house begin to blow.
When the siren blew for a fire it blew just short blasts, but now it went up the scale to its highest note and just stayed there, so Freddy knew it was blowing for a blackout. Downstairs the music stopped, and he heard someone shout: “Lights out! Everyone just sit down until the blackout is over!” And then the lights all over the house went out at once.
He was starting down the back stairs, but somewhere below him he heard Mr. Garble’s voice. It would probably be safer to go down the front way. He would have to get through the crowd in the drawing room, but he was sure that no one would be looking for him there. And the blackout would last for at least twenty minutes.
He felt his way cautiously to the front stairs, and down them. There was a good deal of confusion in the hall and the drawing room. Word had got around that Mr. Garble had been chasing a burglar and some of the more timid guests had become frightened in the darkness, and were getting hysterical, and only a few of them had sat down quietly; the rest were rushing around, apparently trying to get out. As Freddy hesitated at the foot of the stairs someone bumped into him, then a hand touched his shoulder, and Mrs. Underdunk’s voice said: “Is that you, Senator?”
“Yes, madam,” said Freddy in a deep voice.
“Goodness,” she said, “I’m glad I found you. We’ve got to keep these people quiet. They’re getting very excited. Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, as there was a crash and a chorus of screams at the far end of the drawing room, “there goes Grandfather Underdunk’s marble bust! Say something to them, Senator. I’m sure your voice will calm them.”
I guess it was at this moment that Freddy’s big idea came to him, although he didn’t yet know quite how to work it out. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted. “Quiet, please! Our gracious hostess asks that you all remain quietly where you are, and listen to an important announcement …”
The crowd indeed became quieter, but as Freddy hesitated, they began moving around again.
“Oh, be quick,” said Mrs. Underdunk. “Can’t you think of anything to say?”
“Blunder is never at a loss for words,” said Freddy. “But there is no use just telling them not to be frightened. We must take their minds off it. We must make an announcement—I have it! We will announce that you are making a generous gift of some kind to the war effort. They’ll applaud, and then they’ll forget all about being frightened.”
“Well—” said Mrs. Underdunk doubtfully. “I’m not a rich woman, you know, Senator.”
“This won’t cost you a cent,” said Freddy. And raising his voice, he shouted: “Ladies and gentlemen! Our hostess has been trying to persuade me not to make this announcement publicly. But in these troubled days, I believe that unselfish patriotism should receive its due need of praise. We cannot allow Mrs. Underdunk to conceal her good deeds, and while I appreciate her modest desire to avoid the limelight, I must insist that her generous gift be made known, to serve as an example to us all.
“I have to announce, ladies and gentlemen, that Mrs. Humphrey Underdunk is contributing to the scrap metal drive one of her most cherished possessions, a work of art which any museum would give its right wing to possess, the cast iron deer which stands on her lawn.”
The applause drowned Freddy’s voice.
“Oh, Senator!” shouted Mrs. Underdunk. “How could you! That deer was poor Humphrey’s wedding gift to me!”
“I think poor—er, Humphrey would have wished you to dispose of it in this way,” said Freddy. “And listen to them!” For through the continuing applause came cries of “Speech! Speech from Mrs. Underdunk!”
“Tell them,” said Freddy quickly, “that you can’t of course move it yourself, and that anyone can take it away who will turn it into the scrap drive.” And he slipped away from her and began squeezing through the crowd to the open windows.
Freddy’s idea had been a good one. He felt sure that Mrs. Underdunk would not be able to go back on her offer, even though she had not made it herself. She would certainly find out that the senator had not made it either. But it had been made publicly, and she was already receiving so much praise and such hearty congratulations for her generosity, that she would certainly not raise any objections now. Indeed, as he edged towards the window, he heard her make the announcement he had suggested to her. “It is a very heavy piece of iron,” she said, “but I do hope that someone here will arrange to cart it away, so that it can be put to use. I ought to say,” she went on, “that I had no intention of making a public announcement about it. It seems to me too small a sacrifice to make any fuss about. But since Senator Blunder insisted on speaking for me—”
“I beg your pardon, madam,” interrupted the senator’s voice. “I made no announcement.”
“You—what?” said Mrs. Underdunk. “But you were right here beside me.”
“No, madam. I was over here by the piano.”
“That’s right,” quavered old Mrs. Peppercorn’s voice. “He was under the piano. He just came out, and he’s right beside me now.”
Everybody started talking at once, but Freddy had at last pushed through the crowd and reached the window. And as he stepped outside, the fire siren blew the all clear, and a second later the lights went on.
“Good land, Freddy, what have you been up to?” said Mrs. Wiggins, as he joined her again behind the bush.
Freddy tugged off the senator’s coat, and dropped it with the hat on the ground. “Come on,” he said. “Jinx, round up the others and
bring them down to the side gate.”
Chapter 13
From their hiding place outside the high iron fence that surrounded the Underdunk estate, the animals watched the hunt for Freddy. Mr. Garble and the chauffeur had searched the house, and now were turning the beams of their flashlights behind every bush and tree. Freddy had disappeared, but presently came back dragging a long heavy rope which he had found in Judge Willey’s garage, down the street.
A flashlight beam swept along the fence and the animals all ducked. “I wish they’d go in,” said Freddy. “Now’s the time, while the party’s still going on, to get that deer.”
“Oh, if that’s all you want!” said Sniffy Wilson, and got up and went to the gate. He strolled across the open lawn towards the house. Pretty soon the chauffeur said: “Mr. Garble, I think there’s a skunk out here. I’m going in.”
“Nonsense,” said Mr. Garble. “Your orders were to search the grounds, Smith. You’d better do as Mrs. Underdunk tells you.”
“Yes, sir,” said the chauffeur. “But my orders don’t include skunks. I’m a chauffeur, not a wild animal tamer. I ain’t got any ambition to bring ’em back alive; I’d rather get back alive myself.”
“Oh, don’t talk so much,” snapped Mr. Garble. “Get on with the job.”
But the chauffeur had gone into the house.
“Darned coward!” said Mr. Garble, and just then his flashlight picked up Sniffy Wilson. He stopped still, and Sniffy looked at the light a moment and then started walking towards it, as unconcerned as if he was in his own parlor. Mr. Garble dropped the flashlight and ran.
Sniffy went over to it and turned off the light. “No use wasting the battery,” he said. Sniffy was always very careful of other people’s things.
Freddy and the Bean Home News Page 10