Mr. Hinkleberry said nothing. He just gasped.
“A little to the left now, Johnny,” said Mr. Pudgins.
I turned the hot-water faucet left and around we went. I just kept on turning, and we went round and round. “More, more!” yelled Petey. I began to feel dizzy.
“No. That is quite enough,” said Mr. Pudgins. “Gently left, my lad.” So I gently turned left.
Two sparrows came and sat on the edge of the tub, and Janey held out her soapy hand. Each of them pecked at the white stuff and then sat back and scolded her. It smelled of carnations, but I don’t imagine it would taste good even to a bird. Right in front of us now was the Smiths’ house, and I knew Mother and Dad must be sitting in the living room sweltering, when they might have been out sailing in a tub with us.
“Let’s go lower and just float around the house,” I said. “How do we do that?”
“I suppose you might pull the plug,” said Mr. Pudgins. “Not too much now.”
I pulled the plug, and sure enough, we went gradually down. Janey whispered, “Look, there’s Mommy in the kitchen. Hello, Mommy.” She almost fell out as she tried to knock on the window.
Mother looked up just as Mr. Pudgins’s face went by the window glowing in the light of his pipe. She looked startled.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” shrieked Pete as we passed a living-room window. But Dad was talking to Mr. Smith and didn’t hear. We could see Mother rushing in from the kitchen talking excitedly.
Then, as we drifted by the other side of the living room, Dad was saying, “You must have been sampling some of the drinks. Have you ever heard the like, Art?” That was Mr. Smith’s name. They both laughed.
Mother turned away toward the window, and Janey waved enthusiastically at her, but I don’t suppose Mother could see us. Instead she saw only Mr. Pudgins and his pipe as he sailed past, sitting on the end of the tub, his legs crossed, and leaning back to enjoy the summer evening. We couldn’t stay longer, but we heard Mother say as we drifted down the street. “Look! Look! Didn’t you see that?” But of course they hadn’t.
I stuck the plug back in the hole, and we floated up near the treetops again. “There’s Mike,” yelled Pete. “Hi, Mike. See me, Mike. I’m floating.”
Mike, who is four like Pete, stopped his bike and looked around and then looked some more for Pete. But he never thought of looking up, so he didn’t see us.
On the corner of Main Street and Pearl we dipped a little lower, and Jimmy Sterrett, a reporter friend of Dad’s, came driving along in his flivver. Pete shouted, “Hey, Jimmy! Jimmy! Jimmy!” and Janey joined right in. Jane’s and Pete’s shrieks were so loud that Jimmy did look up for just a second. Then, wham, he crashed into the car ahead!
As we floated up over a building, we heard Jimmy saying, “But, Officer, I tell you it was a bathtub.”
“Bathtubs, is it?” came the officer’s voice more softly as we drifted away. “Flying disks, flying platters, and now flying bathtubs. What won’t you think of next?”
Mr. Pudgins smiled just a little, and so did I.
We were floating toward home when Petey saw some smoke coming from a chimney. “Look, a fire.”
“Let’s go see, please. I wanta see a chimney from up here,” said Janey.
“All right, kiddies, just one look. Turn a little bit that way, Johnny.”
So I did. “Why would anyone have a fire on a hot night like this?” I mused.
“An incinerator, I suppose, my boy.” Mr. Pudgins stopped puffing on his pipe to twist and look ahead. “Not too close, now.”
“What’s a sinnerater? Something bad?” piped Pete.
“Oh, it burns up rubbish and cans and things like that, stupid,” I said, looking back at him.
That did it. I wasn’t watching closely enough, and we were stuck—right on top of that chimney. Whoof! Everyone got a mouthful of smoke, and then it stopped. I guess we had plugged up the hole.
“Now this is a predicament,” muttered Mr. Pudgins. “But keep calm.”
Janey hung way over the side. “Let’s slide down the roof. I’ve always wanted to slide down the roof.”
“I wanta fly.” Pete began kicking his feet and throwing foam about. “Let’s fly.”
“Say, look down there,” I shouted. “Lookit the smoke coming out of the house. Boy, a real fire.”
“No, not exactly, John,” said Mr. Pudgins, “but since the smoke can’t come out of the chimney, it is going through the house. We had better get away from here. Let’s rock the ship. Right . . . now left . . . now right.”
“I’m getting awfully hot,” said Janey because the water was heating up.
About then a man rushed out of the house, looked up at the chimney, and just stared. I suppose it was something of a surprise seeing the bathtub perched like a lollipop on the end of his chimney. We could hear sirens. “Get off of there! Do yah hear me?” The man acted mad, jumping up and down and shaking his fist. “Get off of there!” he yelled.
“That is just what we are endeavoring to do, my man,” answered Mr. Pudgins calmly. “All right, children, rock. One two, one two, one two.” The water sloshed and the tub began to wiggle. It scraped along the edge, and then we were off. The sirens sounded mighty close now. We drifted into a soft little cloud just as the engines screeched to a stop.
“All right, men. Hoses out.” It was pretty exciting. We pushed part of the cloud aside and looked right down at the engines.
“It was a bathtub,” shouted the man.
“Must be a smoke case. Too much smoke will do it, mister,” said a fireman. “Get the doctor, Mac.”
As we floated off, the man was screaming even more angrily, “But it was a bathtub.” And then a little softer, “I think.”
“Homeward, Johnny. Bedtime, I’m sure,” directed Mr. Pudgins.
We were almost there when Janey whispered in surprise, “Johnny, the water. Lookit the water.”
“Good heavens!” said Mr. Pudgins, “it’s almost gone.”
Just as he said that, we started down, down, down. “The plug, the plug!” I yelled. “Who’s got the plug?”
“I dropped it,” wailed Petey. “I dropped it right over the side when we were in that cloud.”
“Get set to land,” said Mr. Pudgins. “Easy does it, lads. Oh, not a tree.”
But there we were perched in a big old maple tree about six feet off the ground.
“Where are we?” whispered Petey.
“I think it’s the McCrackens’, and they’ve got an awfully mean dog. How’ll we ever get out?” I asked.
“You climb down and get the hose. Surely they’ll have their hose around on such a night, and I’ll pop out and find a stone to fit the drain,” said Mr. Pudgins. He disappeared over the side and waved to us from below.
“Quiet, Petey. Not even a whisper, Janey. We don’t want to get that dog started,” I whispered, and I slid down the tree. It was a dandy for climbing. I scouted around, and sure enough, I found the hose in a corner of the yard. As quietly as I could, I pulled it toward the tree. Mr. Pudgins was already seated on the end of the tub. I could see his pipe glowing. I poked the hose up at him, then ran back to turn it on. It was going full blast when I heard the dog. Wow! Did I take off fast for the tree with the hound right behind me. One slip and he would have had fresh meat. Me. Luckily, my bare feet were good for a hold on the tree, and I made it up and into the tub. It was filling fast, and I could see Mr. Pudgins reach in his pocket, pull out a tiny envelope, and empty some powdery stuff in the water.
Slowly we started to float up. The hose pulled loose from the tub, and the full force of the water hit the dog right in the face. He yowled, and the back door of the house opened. Mr. McCracken came running out. As we turned toward home, we could hear Mr. McCracken shouting to his wife, “Maggie, Maggie, come see what some durn kid has done. Hung our hose in the maple tree.”
We all laughed out loud. In fact, we were still laughing when we sailed in the window and settled down in t
he usual corner of the bathroom. Mr. Pudgins got to work and quickly had everyone snug in bed.
Later on I heard Mother and Dad come in, because they were arguing about Mother’s behavior at the party.
“I did see a bathtub,” she said crossly.
“Haaha . . . ohohoho,” roared Dad. “Listen, you must have been in that state where some people see pink elephants. But a bathtub . . . ha ho ho.”
“I’ll have you know,” said Mother, “that I had only tomato juice.”
“Maybe it was the heat,” said Dad, “but it sure was a funny idea of yours.”
He started to laugh again, and I heard Mother say “Hush.” Then I drifted back to sleep.
We were in quarantine. Believe me, those are dismal words to hear. It was Janey who had scarlet fever, but the rest of us had to stay at home even so. Only Mr. Pudgins was unafraid of the big red sign that said “Keep Out.” He had had scarlet fever, so every Saturday he came in to give Mother a chance to get out. And we were glad to see him. By the second Saturday, Janey was feeling well enough to be up and about, and that day Mr. Pudgins brought his little train over for us to play with. I opened the box and was a little disappointed. It wasn’t an electric train.
“Gosh! This is a baby train,” I said. “A windup.”
“On the contrary. This is one of my own inventions. It runs by a power pill. That does away with electricity and its dangers. Now let’s set it up.”
“Oh, my. What a lot of tracks,” said Janey.
“And switches, too,” said Petey. “Oh, my.”
Jane laid track out into the kitchen, and we could hear her clattering around. “Hey, where you putting that track, Janey?” I yelled.
“Just underneath the refrigerator and kitchen table,” she answered.
“Sounds as if you’re moving pans,” I shouted back.
“I am. I’m trying to get the track to go up into the pan cupboard and down again,” she answered.
“Boy, this will be fun,” I said to Mr. Pudgins as I laid track underneath the davenport, under the big armchair he liked to sit in, out again and around to form a figure eight, and then down the hall.
“Come on and see what I’ve done,” said Petey.
I stopped and ran into his bedroom. He had run the track under his bed twice and then into the closet, where he had made a hill up onto a shelf and down again. “Say, that’s good, Pete,” I said. “Now be sure the track is put together tightly. And then come help join up with Jane’s track and mine.”
It took us a long time to get the track all together, and when it was all set, Mr. Pudgins set the train on the track in the living room. All three of us lay down on our tummies to watch—Jane’s blond pigtails next to Pete’s shiny blond head right next to my straight blond stuff. The train was a freight. It had a bright-red engine and coal car, a yellow refrigerator car, a black tanker, a green flat car, and a red caboose.
“Isn’t it pretty?” asked Janey.
“Let’s get it started,” said Pete as he bounced. “Start it.”
Mr. Pudgins took out a yellow pill and dropped it in the cab of the engine. Then he took out a black pill and put that in the sand dome.
“What’s that for?” asked Petey.
“That is for smoke,” said Mr. Pudgins. “My own invention.”
“And what’s the yellow one for?” asked Janey.
“The yellow pill is the power. Also my invention.”
“How do you get it started?” I asked.
“I take a little coal from my pipe, put it on the pill, shut the cab, and wait.”
“Will it take long?” asked Petey, watching the train impatiently.
“Not too long, I trust,” said Mr. Pudgins.
Whhhooom! That was the train starting, and it started fast. From just sitting in front of our noses, it was suddenly zipping under the davenport, under the chair, and around and around the figure eight.
“Throw the switch,” yelled Janey.
I threw the switch, and then we ran after the train to the kitchen. It puffed under the refrigerator and under the table, then climbed toward the pan cupboard.
“Lookit, lookit,” said Petey, “it’s going to hit the pans.” And it did.
Crash, bang! Mr. Pudgins came running. “Any damage?”
“This pan is all right,” said Janey.
“So is this cake tin,” said Petey.
“The pans are all okay, but is the train all right?” I asked.
Mr. Pudgins looked at the engine very closely and then put it back on the track. “Everything is all set, but you’d better change that curve, Janey. It’s too sharp.”
We left Janey fixing her curve and followed the train into the bedroom. It would disappear under the bed once, then under the bed again. Whoosh! It was gone in the closet. Every now and then it whistled. And then suddenly it appeared to run under the beds again. Petey wanted to let it run and run in this room, but I insisted we try the kitchen again.
“Are you ready, Jane?”
“All set. Come ahead,” Janey called back.
So we threw the switch, and the little train chugged down the hall and into the kitchen. This time there was no accident. We kept running from room to room and having a wonderful time chasing the train. By now it was carrying some small Lincoln logs, a load of beads, and a few assorted Tinker Toys. Suddenly Mr. Pudgins remarked, “Children, does it seem to you to be getting dark?”
We looked up. Something was wrong. A heavy dark cloud seemed to be lying next to the ceiling and slowly settling.
“Bouncing butterballs!” said Mr. Pudgins. He always said that when he really was surprised.
“Is something wrong?” asked Janey.
“When you had that accident . . .” said Mr. Pudgins.
“Oh, my!” said Petey.
“Yes, we must have knocked the smoke pill back with the fuel pill, and it’s burning up too fast. Not that this is like real smoke, but it’s getting dark.”
“I can’t see very well,” I said.
“Catch the train,” ordered Mr. Pudgins.
“There it goes,” said Janey. “I . . . I think.” The smoke was really down upon us now.
“I don’t see it,” said Petey.
“Neither do I,” said I.
“Now don’t get excited,” said Mr. Pudgins.
“It’s getting awfully thick,” wailed Petey. “Where are you, Janey?”
It really was getting thick. I couldn’t see my hand when I held it out straight before me. “Johnny,” said Mr. Pudgins’s voice in the smoke.
“Here I am, Mr. Pudgins,” I answered.
“Johnny, grab Janey’s hand; and Jane, you find Pete. Now if I can just find Johnny.”
I stumbled around and bumped my head on the floor lamp, then whammed against the end table. I was more cautious after that. Finally, I bumped into Jane. She had corraled Pete. We stumbled around some more, and suddenly out of the dark came a hand that grabbed my collar. It was Mr. Pudgins’s. All during this time we would hear a faint whistle now and then. Once something shot out of the dark and right past me. I jumped. Petey yelled, “There she goes.” But we were too late. It was gone.
“Now,” said Mr. Pudgins, “we must have a plan.”
“Oh my,” said Janey, “it’s awfully dark.”
“I hear it,” yelled Petey. He seemed to think that the dark made us slightly deaf.
“I think,” said Mr. Pudgins, “that we must first find the tracks.”
“We’d better crawl,” I suggested. “Otherwise we might step right over them.”
“I need my hands to crawl,” said Jane. “And my hands are holding somebody else’s hands.”
“Keep hold of hands, but wiggle forward,” commanded Mr. Pudgins. So we wiggled. How I wished I could have seen him wiggling, too. And then simultaneously we hit the track.
“I feel it,” said Janey. “I feel the track.”
“Me too,” yelled Petey. Far away we heard the whistle of the train.
We relaxed for a moment. And then whoooommm! There was the train. Pete grabbed. Jane grabbed. I grabbed. Mr. Pudgins grabbed. And we all missed.
“Dear me,” said Mr. Pudgins. “This won’t do at all.”
We heard the train rushing around the figure eight. Then wham!
“I guess that did it,” came Jane in a proud voice. “I put my foot on the track.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got it!” yelled Petey.
“Crawl toward us, Pete,” said Mr. Pudgins. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t miss us.”
“The wheels are still going,” said Petey, and then he bumped right into me. Mr. Pudgins reached out of the dark and took the engine. Then he started toward the door. We could hear him bumping around. “Ouch!” he said. “Wow,” he muttered. “Oweee,” he groaned. He was having a hard time. “Made it,” he called, and we all felt a burst of fresh air.
“I’m emptying out the pill,” said Mr. Pudgins. “And now for the back door. Can you open that, Johnny?”
So I started toward the kitchen. Right off I ran into Janey and Pete.
“Look out,” said Janey crossly.
“I am,” I answered. “Only it doesn’t help. Ouch!” I hit the corner of the kitchen door. Well, at least I had gotten that far. I felt my way into the kitchen and then remembered the fan Mother had there to drive out smoke and odors, so I snapped that on. It started up with a rush of sound, and I could feel the smoke whirling around. Finally I got to the door, found the knob, and pulled it open. Boy, that sunny outdoors looked wonderful! I had to blink at so much light. Then I swung the door back and forth to suck out the smoke. I could see into the kitchen a little bit now. Mr. Pudgins had opened some windows in the bedrooms, and the smoke was billowing out. Things had just about cleared out when we heard the siren.
“A fire,” yelled Petey. “A fire. Can we go?”
“I should say not,” said Mr. Pudgins. “You’re in quarantine.”
“Gee whillikers,” I said, “it’s coming closer and closer. Wouldn’t you know I’d miss a fire right in the neighborhood?”
Mr. Pudgins (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries) Page 4