Mr. Pudgins (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries)

by Ruth Christoffer Carlsen

  Mr. Pudgins had climbed out over the coal, and I got back in while he cranked. Whirrah, whirrah, jickety jounce. Annabelle was singing her happy work song again. Mr. Pudgins tipped his hat to the man, worked his way back to the door, and climbed in. For a moment we just bounced, and then with an awful racket we started forward, ground over the top of the cab, and sailed through the air to land in front of the truck. We didn’t stop to talk to the driver. We were much too late. But we all waved good-bye as he stood with his mouth open, scratching his head.

  “Let’s jump again,” said Pete.

  “That’s fun,” said Jane.

  “No, something is out of kilter with Annabelle’s jumping equipment. We’ll try another day,” Mr. Pudgins objected.

  Much too quickly we jounced our way home and stopped in front of our house. Mother ran out, and I could tell she was a little worried. It was getting pretty late. “Why, Johnny, where did you get so dirty?”

  “Oh, just on some coal. But look at my fish.” And I dragged out my fish to show her.

  “Mother, we had the most peachy time,” said Janey.

  “Perfectly perfect,” added Pete.

  We did want to tell Mother all about our day. But you can’t ever really describe such a perfect time. We gave up trying. Still, at night when the crickets were singing, we kept talking of Mr. Pudgins and the wonderful Annabelle.

  “Good-bye, good-bye!” we all three shouted to Mother and Dad as they climbed into the car. This was Homecoming, and they were pretty excited about going back to the university and seeing their old friends. Since Mr. Pudgins had come to stay with us, I didn’t mind too much not being able to go along.

  For an hour or so everything went smoothly. Pete and Jane played Mommy and Daddy, and I listened to the football game on the radio. Then from the bedroom came Jane’s voice. It certainly sounded cross.

  “I want someone to play with,” said Janey.

  “I’m here,” said Petey. “You can play with me.”

  “Oh you,” said Janey in disgust. “I can play with you any old time.” They were in their bedroom, but we could hear them way out in the living room. Mr. Pudgins was sitting in his armchair, and now he took out his pipe. I felt a thrill go through me. Something would really happen now.

  “Come here, children,” he called.

  Jane and Pete came running. “Why don’t you ask your little friends in the mirror to come and play?” asked Mr. Pudgins.

  “Oh, goody, goody!” yelled Pete.

  “Goody, goody!” screamed Janey.

  “But no popcorn,” said Mr. Pudgins.

  I decided I’d like to have a look at Mirjohnny again, too, so all three of us went to the big mirror in the hall. We couldn’t always get the mirror children out, because we had tried. But maybe now we could since Mr. Pudgins was here again and smoking away at his pipe. Each of us reached toward that other child. “Come on,” I said.

  “Please, come,” said Janey. And the two of us pulled. Out stepped Mirjohnny and Mirjaney. But Mirpete just stood and looked at us.

  “Give him a yank, Pete,” I said.

  “But, Johnny, I don’t think I want to.”

  “Oh, go on,” I said.

  So Pete pulled Mirpete out, and there the six of us were. “Now what will we do?” asked Janey.

  “Let’s think,” I suggested.

  “We can play paper dolls,” said Jane.

  “No!” shouted the four boys.

  “Football?” asked Pete.

  “Hole in the ball,” I answered.

  “How about Old Maid?” suggested Mirjohnny.

  “Say, that’s a good idea. It’s a lot of fun with so many.”

  Janey ran for the cards, and we all sat in a circle while she dealt them. We laughed and squealed. Petey didn’t understand that he wasn’t supposed to get the Old Maid, so he yelled for joy each time he got it. We played and laughed and played some more.

  “Now let’s go outside,” said Mirjaney.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” said Pete.

  “Well, go on,” I said. “We’ll wait for you.”

  He’d been gone only a few minutes, and then we heard a funny noise from the hall. “Johnny . . . Johnny.” Pete sounded worried so I ran. He was standing in front of the mirror with a very troubled expression on his face.

  “I’m not there,” he said and pointed at the mirror.

  “Oh, sure you are,” I said. Then I looked, and sure enough he wasn’t reflected and neither was I. It gave me a funny feeling to look and not see myself.

  “Gosh, this is bad. You know those are our reflections out there in the living room. Boy, we’d better not lose track of them.”

  “Hurry up,” said Janey crossly, coming out of the living room to get us. “Now what’s the matter?”

  “Look in the mirror and see,” said I.

  Janey looked and then said excitedly, “Why, I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s right,” I answered, “so don’t lose Mirjaney. Let’s go.”

  We got a surprise when we got back to the living room, for the mirror children were gone. My heart sank a little bit. “Hey, kids,” we shouted. And then we heard some giggles. There they were, hiding on top of the draperies.

  “Let’s play hide and seek,” said Mirjaney.

  “Oh, no,” said Jane, and I knew she had the same thought I did. They might be too good at the hiding.

  “How about tag?” asked Mirjohnny.

  That sounded better, so we trooped outside and started playing wood tag. “Say,” I called after a while, “you’re not playing fair. You keep floating up into the trees. We can’t get you there.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Mirjohnny and laughed.

  It was a strenuous game. Not only did we have to run after the mirror children when we were “it,” but we had to climb trees, jump in the air, and swing from branches.

  “Let’s stop,” said Pete.

  “I’m tired,” said Jane.

  “We aren’t,” said the three mirror children. They were sitting on the branches of the apple tree.

  “Let’s go see the world,” said Mirjaney.

  “Goody, goody!” said Mirpete.

  “Oh no you can’t!” we screamed.

  “Just watch us and see,” said Mirjohnny, and they started to float away.

  “Mr. Pudgins! Mr. Pudgins!” yelled the three of us.

  He came strolling to the door. “My goodness. What now?”

  “Look! Look!” yelled Petey.

  “They’re flying away,” called Janey.

  “We must catch them,” I moaned.

  “Bouncing butterballs!” said Mr. Pudgins excitedly. “This calls for action. Go get Podo.”

  “You mean the dodo bird?” I asked.

  “Of course.” He handed me the key. I ran and opened the trunk, and there was Podo sitting in a corner, sleeping.

  “Hey, Podo. Glubily,” I yelled. I didn’t know what it meant, but it seemed to wake him up. I grabbed him in my arms and ran back to Mr. Pudgins.

  “Now, Podo,” said Mr. Pudgins, “we want you to catch those children floating away over there.” He waved his hand toward the sky where the mirror children were getting smaller and smaller.

  “No!” said Podo.

  “Don’t be that way,” said Mr. Pudgins crossly. “Just blow up a wind and go catch them.”

  “No!” said Podo.

  “Oh, dear,” said Janey. “I do so want to be able to see myself.”

  “Me too,” wailed Petey.

  “Look, Podo,” I said, thinking fast. “I’ll give you my new ring that lights in the dark and can write under water.”

  “Noooo,” said Podo hesitatingly.

  “I’ll give you my big doll’s new bonnet,” said Jane.

  “Welll,” said Podo.

  “I’ll give you my rubber ball,” said Pete.

  “All right,” said Podo. “I’ll do it.” By now the children had disappeared. “But won’t I just
blow them farther away with my wind?”

  “Bouncing butterballs,” said Mr. Pudgins. “He’s right. I will just have to go along. Where’s the clothesline?”

  Jane ran and got it from the garage, and when she came back, Mr. Pudgins was sitting on Podo’s back, pipe in his mouth and cap set back on his head. With the rope, he made a loop and then twirled it over his head.

  “He’s a cowboy,” said Pete.

  “An air cowboy,” said Jane.

  “All right, Podo,” said Mr. Pudgins. “Let’s go.”

  We heard Podo suck in the air, and then whooooooo. . . . Janey grabbed the cherry tree, Pete fell flat on the ground, and I went over and over until I banged into the garage. When I got up, I could see Mr. Pudgins riding along on Podo and twirling the rope. For a moment he disappeared, and then whoooo, the wind hit us in the face. We all rolled over on the grass. “Lie flat,” I shouted. “They must be coming back.”

  “There’s Mirjaney,” yelled Jane.

  And sure enough, floating over our heads was Mirjaney. Mirpete and Mirjohnny were right behind her. We saw Mr. Pudgins coming up quickly, and suddenly the loop shot out. It went over Mirjaney’s head and down on her shoulders. Then Mr. Pudgins pulled the loop tight. They flew right over the house, and we rushed around in front to see what was happening. Mr. Pudgins had untied Mirjaney and hung her in the dodo’s mouth. Now he twirled the rope over his head again and out it shot. This time Mirpete was caught. Mr. Pudgins tied him to the dodo’s fluff of tail. They were certainly a sight—the little dodo with plump Mr. Pudgins astride of him and a child hanging at each end.

  “Hey,” I called. “Don’t lose my reflection. There he goes!”

  Mr. Pudgins nodded his head, and then they all blew along and into the cloud where Mirjohnny had just disappeared. Bits of the cloud started to break off and float away. They must be having an awful fight. Then we heard a shriek, and out came Mr. Pudgins smiling broadly as he puffed on his pipe, and Mirjohnny was floating way behind but securely tied with the rope.

  They landed in the backyard, and Mr. Pudgins handed me the rope with Mirjohnny at the end. Jane grabbed Mirjaney’s hand and started pulling her toward the front door, and Pete pulled Mirpete by the rope around his tummy. Into the house we went and marched back to the mirror. And then we shoved those children right in even though they didn’t want to go.

  “I’ll never, never take her out again,” said Janey. “I want to be able to see myself.” And she made an awful face at the mirror. Mirjaney made the same horrible face right back at her.

  “Look, I’m there again,” said Pete. He smiled at the mirror, and Mirpete smiled back at him.

  “I’m glad I’ve got my reflection back. Thanks loads, Mr. Pudgins,” I said. “Gosh, that was scary!”

  “And now, children,” said Mr. Pudgins, “you promised the dodo bird some things.”

  “Oh, so we did,” I said. I got my ring, Pete got his ball, and Jane the bonnet. Then we took them out to the dodo bird, who was sitting in the trunk waiting. Jane tied the bonnet around his head, and we had to struggle not to laugh. I slipped the ring on his claw, and it glowed in the dark. Pete shoved the ball in the other claw. As we shut the trunk, we could see Podo bouncing the ball by the light of his ring. And every now and then he reached a tiny wing toward his new bonnet, to feel if it were really there. He was singing, too:

  “Whenever I strumbily in the sky

  And on my didily fiddily fly,

  I sing out with whiddily fiddily pie

  And grubily, dudsy is my cry.”

  We all hustled into the house, and the three of us went back to be sure that the mirror children were really there. They were. And never again did we take them out to play. It was too dangerous.

  When Mother and Dad got home near suppertime, Janey rushed right out and told them all about the mirror children.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Jack, how Mr. Pudgins is stimulating the children’s imaginations?”

  Dad gulped and said, “Oh, is that what it is?”

  Mr. Pudgins just knocked the ashes from his pipe, smiled at us all with a very special twinkle in his eye, and departed with a bang and whir in Annabelle.

  I said nothing. It was a good idea to have Mother think it was imagination.

  We saw Mr. Pudgins drive up with a whang and bang in Annabelle, but he took such a very long time getting into the house that we were all puzzled.

  “Really, Jack,” said Mother, “if he doesn’t hurry, we are going to be late for the Hillenwhoops’ dinner. And she’s so fussy. Oh, dear!” Mother pushed at the black witch’s hat on her head. “I could scream at this crazy hat. It’s going to be screwgey all the time.”

  “Well, if you think I like going as the devil, you’ve another thought coming,” exploded Dad, tugging at his tail which Pete was standing on. “Any grown woman who gives a fancy-dress Halloween party can expect folks to be late. I hate the whole idea.”

  “Daddy is a devil. Daddy is a devil,” chanted Janey from her perch in the window. She was still looking for Mr. Pudgins.

  “If you don’t stop that, young lady, you’ll see what kind of a devil I am.”

  “Are you a good witch, Mommy, like the nice ones in The Wizard of Oz?” asked Pete.

  “Why, yes, I’m a nice witch. Oh, Jack . . .” Mother started to giggle. “Whoever thought we’d admit to the children that I’m a witch and you’re a devil?”

  Dad grinned just a little, then grabbed his pitchfork, and started to the door. “Come on, Witchy,” he said. And just that moment the door swung open and there was Mr. Pudgins. We could hardly see him for the armload of packages. “My goodness!” he gasped, looking at Mother and Dad in their costumes.

  “Some getup, eh?” grinned Dad. “Well, we’re off. Looks as if you’re set for something yourself.”

  “My birthday,” explained Mr. Pudgins, dumping the packages in the kitchen. “I brought along a few things to celebrate.”

  “Have fun,” called Mother and Dad. The door slammed shut behind them.

  “Now, children,” said Mr. Pudgins, “the first thing to do is set the table.”

  “Janey and I can do that,” I said. And we did.

  “Now,” said Mr. Pudgins, “shall we play a game?”

  “Yes, yes,” yelled Petey.

  “Let’s pin a tail on the donkey. You always do that at birthday parties,” said Janey.

  “How fortunate,” said Mr. Pudgins. “I just happen to have a donkey game and some tails here.” He hung the donkey on the wall, then put a blindfold on Petey and whirled him around. At first, Petey started off in the opposite direction. It looked as if he might pin a tail on the davenport. But Mr. Pudgins gave him a shove in the right direction, and at least he stuck his tail on the donkey—right on his head. Janey and I laughed.

  “Ouch!” said a gruff voice. “That’s a silly place for a tail.”

  “Who said that?” yelled Petey, tearing off the blindfold.

  “Said what, Petey?” asked Mr. Pudgins.

  “‘Ouch.’ Somebody said ‘ouch’!”

  “Oh, you’re just imagining things,” I answered. “It’s Janey’s turn now.” Janey had a blindfold put on, whirled around three times, and set off for the donkey. She was lucky and pinned her tail on the back end.

  “That’s better,” a gruff voice whispered.

  “Oh, is it?” asked Janey.

  “You peeked,” said Pete.

  “I did not,” snapped Janey.

  “All right, all right,” said Mr. Pudgins. “It’s Johnny’s turn.” So I put on the blindfold, took the tail and pin, and whirled around. It was a funny, dizzy feeling, and I wondered where I was. Right then I ran into the donkey. He didn’t feel like paper at all. I stuck my pin in and forgot everything trying to get the blindfold off. I could hear Janey and Pete laughing.

  “Well, really!”

  Yes, somebody had said that.

  “On his tummy, you’ve got it on his tummy,” laughed Petey.
r />   “He looks funny,” said Janey.

  “Now it’s my turn,” said Mr. Pudgins. We had a struggle getting the blindfold on him, and he was awfully hard to turn around. Finally, he started off toward the donkey, and we all laughed when he pinned it on the donkey’s chin. It looked like a beard.

  “Really, that is the last straw.” There was that voice again.

  “I heard it. I heard it,” yelled Petey.

  “Me too,” said Janey. “There’s somebody else here.”

  “Maybe so,” I said. “But where?”

  “Right here of course, stupid!” said the same gruff and sad voice. “On the wall.”

  We could hardly believe our ears, but yes, it was the donkey talking. “One would think,” the donkey continued, “that a grown man could do better than pin a tail on a chin. It’s all out of place.”

  “Now, now,” said Mr. Pudgins, putting the blindfold on a chair, “it’s just a game.”

  “I’m getting pretty tired of it,” said the donkey and walked right off the paper. “Look at me. A tail on my chin, a tail on my head, a tail on my stomach, and a tail where a tail should be. I’m a freak.”

  “They look handy to me,” I said. “You can keep flies off no matter where they are.”

  “Hummph!” said the donkey. “It’s not that I’m complaining. Only I look awfully silly. I think . . . yes, I am. I’m going to cry.”

  “Quick, before he gets started. Let’s play ring-around-the-rosey,” said Mr. Pudgins.

  I grabbed a head tail, and Janey grabbed the rear tail, and the rest of us joined hands. Around and around we went singing in our loudest voices, and the donkey joined in. Only he went, “He haw . . . he haw.” Sometimes when we all fell down, we would just lie and laugh because the donkey looked so funny with his four tails and four legs waving in the air.

  Golly, that game was fun. Finally we were too tired to play anymore, and Mr. Pudgins suggested that we should have the ice cream and cake now. When we got to the table, each of us had one of those long crepe-paper snappers at his place. The donkey sat at the head of the table in Dad’s place and looked very important. We started to sing “Happy birthday to you” as Mr. Pudgins came through the door with his birthday cake. And then we stopped. Because around the edge of the cake marched twelve little wooden soldiers, and in the very center was a frosting house from which a little girl peeked. We almost thought we could hear her singing “Happy birthday.” Believe me, we kept our eyes glued to that wonderful cake. As Mr. Pudgins started to cut the cake, we got over our surprise enough to really sing, and the donkey joined in with his “He haw” until the dining room rang with sound. Mr. Pudgins smiled.