Terrible, Horrible Edie

by E. C. Spykman

  “I thought you had died,” said Hubert. “Some darn fool has turned in an alarm.”

  He took the glass and emptied it over the hole from which the smoke was coming. There was a hiss and the smoke began to smell dead, and then thinned out to nothing.

  “Shall I get another?” asked Edie.

  “Sure,” said Hubert. “We might as well do a good job.”

  This time she had a hard time setting out as the crowd around them was three feet deep, but it had moved back a little when someone said: “The dang thing’s liable to blow up any time,” so she was able to wriggle through. While she was gone, Hubert opened the Ford’s back door, pulled out the mashed box of kitchen matches, threw them into the gutter, and stamped on them.

  “Lord, here they are,” he said as Edie came back. “What’ll we do now?”

  “It’s no use asking me,” said Edie. “How did we get a fire anyhow?”

  Hubert didn’t answer as he threw the second glass of water onto the blackened mat and closed the door firmly.

  The fire engines drew up, with a terrible clatter, and all the firemen except the driver got solemnly down. They didn’t say anything, but prowled around the car and looked at the Cares from head to foot. The Chief in his hat, boots, coat, and with an ax in his hand finally confronted Hubert. “You kids turn in an alarm?” he asked.

  “No,” said Hubert.

  “They was afire,” said a voice from the crowd.

  “What I want to know is, who turned in that alarm,” said the Chief sternly, looking the crowd over.

  “Not me,” said Hubert. “Take the glass back. Hurry,” he said to Edie.

  When she got back this time, he was in the driver’s seat with his foot and hand ready.

  “Are we all right?” said Edie. “Here, Widge!”

  “The beagle’s traveling house got a little singed on the bottom,” Hubert said out of the corner of his mouth as he put his foot down to throw in the gear, “but he’s all right. I took a look. But he must have been plenty hot.” He made the car go ahead just enough to part the crowd. They did not want to let them go. Someone wanted to investigate the cause of the fire, and someone else wanted to arrest them.

  “I expect the eggs are cooked,” said Hubert, nosing along. “We can have them for lunch.”

  “I don’t want any lunch,” said Edie.

  As soon as the way was clear, he twitched his finger, and the Ford gave a bound. They whistled out of town with all the windows open and their hair blowing. “Phew,” said Hubert, “phew, phew, phew. Look, if you smell us so violently again, you might let me know sooner.” He closed one eye and gave Edie a glance sideways.

  “It wasn’t my fault any more than yours,” said Edie. “But what I’d like to know is, how did it get started and is it going to do it again?” She turned around and peered and sniffed.

  “Positively not,” said Hubert. “That I can assure you. As for getting started, you’ll never know, you’ll never, never know.

  “And what I wonder,” he added, giving Edie another glance, “is who turned in that fire alarm. Eh?”

  “You’ll never know,” said Edie, “you’ll just never, never know.”

  When they had left Grampham and were on nearly empty roads again, Hubert said they better hurry a bit they had lost so much time, so he twitched down his finger and things swam past. He also made the most of the straight stretches, and at Harland he said he knew a short cut round the town.

  “I’ll bet you don’t really,” said Edie encouragingly.

  “Madam showed it to me,” said Hubert. “Anyway I have a much better sense of direction than you do.”

  Edie opened and shut her mouth. “I don’t mind going a hundred miles an hour,” she said later. “But I do mind getting lost with this zoo on our hands.” She turned round to try and comfort Jocko who was crying in little sniffs. “Good Jock, good little Jock. Here nibble my finger awhile.” She was flung against Hubert as he rounded a corner. They were off on his short cut.

  “I don’t remember this at all,” she said as they came to a heavily wooded place with a narrow road. But it was straight and Hubert was whistling through his teeth with pleasure and making the Ford tear down it.

  “You’ll see,” he said complacently.

  It did seem to be going in the right direction, and it was an awfully nice road. It thinned and thickened so that sometimes you could see the chimneys of the town and sometimes you were in lonely woods. There were hardly any cars on it. Maybe the old guy was right and knew what he was talking about, Edie decided. They were certainly making up lost time. In fact, they were going along at such a clip that they did not see a man who popped out of the bushes behind them and waved his arms. He was not waving to them, however, but to someone down the road in front of them, who also popped out from the bushes, stood in the middle of the road, and made himself into a windmill. When they were near enough, they saw that this was a policeman; he had on his pot helmet, blue coat with silver buttons, boots, billy, and all. Hubert had to slow down, and as the policeman jumped from side to side of the road, he finally had to stop.

  “You’re a menace to this town,” said the policeman in a squeaky voice, shaking his billy at them. “You’re a menace to this town.” He came round to the side of the car.

  “What have I done?” said Hubert innocently.

  “You’ve exceeded the speed limit. It’s twenty miles an hour. You was goin’ fifty.”

  “Nonsense!” said Hubert.

  “You were,” said Edie.

  “You keep your mouth shut,” said Hubert softly. “It’s a police trap. Look over there.”

  There was a clearing in the woods to the right and Edie could hardly believe it, but it was full of policemen all in their pot helmets and uniforms, sitting in chairs in the shade of the trees. There was a table in front of them and another man without a uniform was sitting there with papers laid out that he was studying.

  “You’re arrested,” said the one by the car. “Get out of that there automobile, young feller. You’ll have to come before the judge.”

  “All right,” said Hubert amiably. “Where is he?”

  He was the man at the table. It was all exactly like Robin Hood, Edie thought, but they were treating Hubert as if he were a fat abbot and not Will Scarlet. They made him stand and be judged, and then he had to pay ten dollars for going too fast. The policemen in the chairs all leaned forward eagerly when he took out the money, and he did it so slowly and carefully that Edie wondered for a minute if he were going to jump and run. She got ready. But Hubert put the ten dollars on the table.

  “A receipt, if you don’t mind,” he said to the judge.

  The judge narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t get fresh with me, you young squirt,” he said. “I’m the law. We’re going to stamp out you speeders if we die in the attempt.”

  “Get ’em back in their flivver,” he said to the policeman who had stopped them.

  The policeman did it by guiding Hubert by the seat of his pants with his billy. As Hubert bent over to get in, he gave him an extra hard tap. Edie could have told him it wasn’t exactly the thing to do. Hubert seldom got mad, but when he did, there was a lot of smashing and whacking for miles around. This time his face got red and his neck and even his ears. Edie thought she saw the hair on the back of his neck standing up like a dog’s. She was scared.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said, as she shut the car door.

  “Just a minute, just a minute,” said Hubert. “Don’t be in such a hurry. There’s something I have to do.” He stretched himself all over and loosened his collar and took some long breaths before he started the Ford. Slowly and carefully he crept down the road for about a hundred yards.

  “Take a look behind,” he said to Edie. “The robbers! Are they still out on the road?”

  “Nope,” said Edie. “They’re counting their money I guess.” What was he going to do for heaven’s sake? She hoped that getting mad hadn’t “turned his br
ain,” the way Nurse used to say it could. But, of course, it had.

  Hubert put on all the speed he could, and they tore away from the police trap making mountainous clouds of dust. The wind certainly blew it to settle right on the policemen, and behind its fog and just before the end of the long straight stretch he turned round. They raced back, skipping and bouncing on the uneven road. Before they got really in sight of the trap he slowed down. Two policemen were standing in the road this time. Hubert crawled up to them and past them and away from them keeping the law perfectly. He lifted one hand and nicked his head to them and to the judge over in the bushes with the greatest politeness. “ ’Do, Officer,” he said, “ ’do, Judge.”

  “We’ll go by once more,” he said, turning. “As a matter of fact we have to, to finish the short cut.”

  “Well, the animals don’t like it,” said Edie. “And I don’t either. But I suppose you’re crazy and we’ll have to stand it.”

  “Good guess,” said Hubert. “This is something like,” he added.

  “Maybe it is,” said Edie, “but only for one single person.”

  Hubert didn’t answer because he was concentrating on just the right time for him to slow up. There were four policemen in the road this time. They thought they could block him of course, but he would quietly and dignifiedly go round them at fifteen miles an hour. He put on the brakes quite hard to stop in time, and their dust began catching up with them, the policemen, and the judge as well. It made Jocko sneeze and the troupial cough, and the beagle way down below made retching sounds in his throat. But these were all drowned out by a loud report. The Ford swerved and swiveled, but Hubert managed to keep it on the road while it began to bump and grind like an old tip cart.

  “Gee, look!” said Edie, sitting up and staring.

  “Cripes!” said Hubert, taking a fast peek, while he was trying to pull over and stop the car.

  One of the back tires, collapsing from the puncture, had come off and was spinning along first beside, and then ahead, going right straight for the judge. While the Ford quivered and stood still almost pressed against the stomachs of the four policemen, Hubert as well as Edie watched with their stomachs nearly up to their mouths. The tire couldn’t have been happier; it bounced over stones, jumped ruts, kicked up straws, and never lost a bit of speed. Until it hit the table. That was the terrible moment. Would it come down on the judge’s head and brain him or would it fall round him like a doughnut, or would it glance off and land in the laps of the other policemen? Edie shoved back on the seat as the tire bumped and went up in the air. When it fell dead at the foot of the table, whirling round and round like a dog settling down, she let out her breath. Hubert heard her.

  “You don’t need to be so relieved,” he said. “That’s only the beginning.”

  It certainly was. They were surrounded without a minute’s delay by the whole force, who took the Ford and propelled it by hand to the side of the road. They then invited Hubert and Edie to step out a second time. The judge waved them to chairs at the side of the table and picked up the receiver of the telephone that was hanging beside him on a tree. He rang the bell violently.

  “It’s the jug for you,” he said as he waited for the operator.

  It looked as if it were going to be, because when he got the number he wanted, he told the station to send the wagon right over.

  “Is that the Black Maria?” said Edie, whispering. She had her arms around Widgy whose tongue was dripping all over the table.

  “Kindly move that animal,” said the judge when he sat down again. “Now, young man, I’ll thank you to answer a few questions. As you will certainly spend the night in jail, I shall have to know what to do with your sister here.” He paused. “She is your sister, I take it? Or is this a case of kidnaping too?”

  Hubert was sitting with his chin in his hands and did not answer. At first he had been looking at nothing except the fact that he was ruined forever. Somebody would certainly come and take care of Edie and the animals; they might even get him out of jail after a while, though he wasn’t so sure of that; but what he was sure of was that he would never be allowed to use the car again. It was one of the gloomiest thoughts he had ever had and hard to tear himself away from. Then, suddenly, he was torn away in spite of himself. Far, far, down the road there was a speck; there was lots of dust behind it and it was bowling along like anything. One of the officers saw it too and craned forward eagerly. They were going to hold up somebody else!

  “Speak up!” said the judge.

  “She is my sister,” said Hubert, sitting up. The oncoming car was almost in plain sight. He leaned forward. Sure as shooting—there was the man up the road waving his arms as a signal and an officer had stepped out in front of them here.

  “Quite a haul today,” said the judge, pleased, as he looked too.

  He was too interested to go on with the proceedings for a minute. He and Hubert watched the car come on at a great rate.

  “Edie,” said Hubert suddenly, very quietly. “Take a look.”

  Edie raised her eyes above Widgy’s head. Oh no! There were Father and Madam and the three maids and the children in the Packard hurtling into the police trap. Both Cares jumped to their feet and yelled at the top of their lungs. “Look out! LOOK OUT!” Their shouts didn’t do the least good. In another two minutes Father was being arrested like anybody else. Well, it was rather a relief; to Hubert anyway. At least the family would know what jail he had been taken to and also—Hubert’s insides were lit by a beautiful light for a moment—under the circumstances what could Father say! He felt very much like smiling—but didn’t—until right on the Packard’s heels came the Black Maria.

  “The Lord keep us and save us,” said Cook from the back of the Packard excitedly, as she saw it. “They have us lynched.”

  “ ’Tis pinched you mean,” said Gander. “L’ave you be quiet now till the Master talks to the gentlemen.”

  “Pinched or lynched,” said Cook hysterically, “I’ll go no place in that thing.”

  Madam had to turn round and put her hand on her knee; The Fair Christine and Lou were struggling to get out from behind the elbow barricade and be hysterical too. “Sh,” she said. “Of course not. Mr. Cares will take care of it.”

  The new girl, whose hair had gotten away from the yachting cap and veil, said her prayers.

  It seemed to take a long time for Mr. Cares to take care of it. He could pay his own fine and go along if he liked, but they had got hold of a criminal like Hubert and they did not mean to let him go. They were going to teach him a lesson and, besides, he was in contempt of court. Two officers were now on either side of him and one of them had taken out a pair of handcuffs.

  “He’ll go quietly, I’m sure,” said Father. “But hold on a minute.”

  Hubert had never known he was such a wonderful character until Father got through talking. He was indispensable at home, he was a stunner at school, he was a genius with cars and animals, and finally his respect and consideration for the police until this moment had been profound. His only fault, he discovered, was that he sometimes was up to boyish pranks.

  “I’d almost rather be arrested,” he said to Edie under his breath.

  “How’s that?” said Father sharply.

  “I just said I was sorry, sir,” said Hubert meekly.

  Madam finally saved the day as usual. She got out of the car with all her veils floating round her and came up to the table. “Your Honor,” she said, “this is my only son.” Good heavens, she sounded just like the Bible. Hubert hoped he was not that bad. “Up until today his conduct has been exemplary. Perhaps there was something—” Madam looked around at the Force, who sat like frogs ready to stick out their sticky tongues. Like frogs you couldn’t tell a thing from looking at their faces. Madam tried again, because when she looked at the judge, he looked at the table. He might be weakening. “I really think there must have been—”

  Edie stepped up to the table and put Widgy down on it. “He hit
’im,” she said.

  “Who?” asked Madam.

  “A police officer struck a child!” said Father.

  Edie pointed him out, and the policeman immediately took off his helmet and mopped his brow. “I give him a tap,” he said.

  “It was a good hard whack,” said Edie. It was so seldom safe and good at the same time to tell the truth that she thought she might as well make the most of it.

  “Are you hurt, my boy?” Father asked Hubert.

  Hubert wriggled his shoulders to try out his back. “It will probably stiffen up later on,” he said.

  The judge looked from one Cares to the other, and there was quite a long silence while he must have been making up his mind.

  “Mr. Cares,” he said finally. “It seems apparent that both your family and mine have been in error. I shall be obliged to punish them both. Sergeant Crotty”—he turned to the policeman who had given Hubert the tap—“you can go back to the station in the wagon and stay there for the day. Mr. Cares, twenty-five dollars, please. Ten is your own fine. Fifteen is bail for your son—”

  “No,” said Father firmly, “no bail.”

  “Fifteen is your son’s fine for rudeness, contempt, bad behavior, and discomfiture of public officials.” He brushed clouds of dust from his suit so that they could all see it.

  “You hear that, Hubert?” said Father. He paid over the money, counting it out slowly, and the judge gathered it up and put it in a strong box on the table at his right hand.

  “To be used for the apprehension of speeders,” he said tightly. “Good day, sir.”

  The minute they got away Hubert was dying of hunger again. He had used up Nurse’s sausages and ice cream on the police trap, he said. Putting on the tire he had had to accomplish like a camel by using his hump.

  “You mean the one the policeman hit?” said Edie.

  He was forced to get hold of her braid and pull it till she apologized.

  This did not solve the hunger question. They had a perfectly good basket packed by Gander and Cook with a lot of things in it that Hubert himself had recommended, but Edie said they had to find a decent place to eat it in. She wanted trees, or a hill, or a brook; she didn’t want to eat with road dust falling on everything. She’d had enough of that already thanks to—