“Search him, guards,” said the Queen. So they searched the G-man, and sure enough, he had a stolen jewel in his hatband, and then he was led off.
Now there were only Alice and Emma and Sherlock Holmes and Captain Kidd and the Queen left.
“Well, Captain,” said the Queen, “you at least are innocent. And Sherlock Holmes wasn’t here when the robbery took place, so he is innocent. But the Lady Alice and the Lady Emma—”
“Your Majesty,” said Lady Emma, trembling, “I just found one of the royal jewels in my pocket. But I don’t know how it got there.”
“Oh, your Majesty,” sobbed Alice, “so did I.”
“So!” said the Queen, frowning terribly. “You don’t know how it got there, eh? Guards!” And the two ducks were led away, weeping bitterly.
“I can’t help feeling, your Majesty,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that you are perhaps making a mistake.”
“A mistake?” said the Queen. “The Queen never makes mistakes!”
“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon,” said Sherlock Holmes. “You have sent practically the entire court out to have their heads chopped off. You have recovered most of the crown jewels. But where is the royal teapot? It must be here in the throne room, because no one has left, except to be executed.”
“You have searched the room?” said the Queen.
“I have. And it is not to be found. But I still say, it must be in this room.”
“Well, I haven’t got it,” said the Queen crossly. “It’s too large to be concealed in a pocket.” She began patting herself all over, as if expecting to find the teapot on her person, then suddenly she gave them a horrified look. “Goodness gracious!” she said. “I’ve got one of the jewels myself!” Then she drew herself up, and it was a fine piece of acting. She looked every inch a queen. “Justice must be done,” she said regally. “Guards, take me out and chop off my head.”
“Oh, your Majesty, please!” protested Sherlock Holmes. “Even though you did have one of the jewels concealed on your person, it belongs to you. You can’t steal from yourself. And so it would not be right to execute yourself.”
“H’m,” said the Queen, “perhaps you’re right.”
“And besides,” continued Sherlock Holmes, “I know now who the thief is. I know who he must be. For there is only one thing in this room that I haven’t looked into, which is still large enough to conceal the teapot. And that is Captain Kidd’s hat.” And he rushed at the Captain and tore off his hat, and the teapot rolled out on the floor.
“Guards, do your duty,” said the Queen, and then as the rabbits surrounded Hank, she said: “Wait a minute. Before you have your head chopped off, Captain, perhaps you’d care to explain.”
So the Captain did. It was the teapot he had come to steal, he said. He didn’t want the jewels, because his piracy had been so successful that he had plenty. But he wanted the teapot for his old mother, who had never had a really nice one. Being a pirate, he was away from home a good deal, and his mother was pretty lonely. Of course, she didn’t know that he was a pirate; she thought he was in the real estate business. And she had said that if she only had a nice teapot, to have tea out of in the long evenings, she would be much happier. The Captain painted such an affecting picture of his poor old mother, sitting by the window, waiting for her son to come home, and wishing for a teapot, that the Queen was quite touched.
“It is too bad,” she said, “that you didn’t tell me all this. I would have been glad to send the old lady a nice teapot. Now, of course, you will have to lose your head. But I promise you that I’ll send her the teapot anyway.”
The Captain said that made him feel much better. “And I should tell you, your Majesty,” he said, “that I didn’t want all these other courtiers to lose their heads. While you were taking your nap I stole the jewels, and hid the teapot in my hat, and then I sneaked around and hid one jewel in the clothes of each person in the room. I thought since there were so many of them, you would just have them put into prison, and then when all the jewels turned up you would be so happy that you would forget about the teapot, and release all the prisoners. Because you’d know they couldn’t all be guilty.”
The Captain had just finished talking when there was a sound of excited voices outside and the door flew open and in came all those who had been led out to be executed, headed by Sir Walter, and flung themselves down at the Queen’s feet.
“What’s this! What’s this!” exclaimed the Queen. “What are you doing in here with your heads on? Why haven’t my orders been carried out?”
The head guard, who was Georgie in a gold paper hat, came forward and knelt down.
GEORGIE
Your Majesty’s orders were perfectly clear:
To chop off the head of each prisoner here,
But we just couldn’t do it. I know that we’ll rue it,
And your Majesty’ll think us most frightfully lax,
But the truth of the thing is—we can’t find the axe!
THE QUEEN
You can’t find the axe?
GEORGIE
No, your Majesty, no.
No, your Majesty, no. We’ve hunted most everywhere, looked high and low.
And even the prisoners helped us, because
They said that obeying your Majesty’s laws
Was much more important than keeping their heads.
But we’ve looked in the closets, we’ve looked under beds,
We’ve examined all corners and crannies and cracks,
But, Your Majesty, honest, we can’t find the axe.
THE QUEEN
Well, the teapot is found, and the thief has confessed,
So perhaps after all it is all for the best.
But remember, next time that I order heads cut off
I mean what I say, and I will not be put off
With such reprehensibly, quite indefensibly
—Yes, I may say even incomprehensibly Weak and unlikely excuses. Now go, And take and confine in the dungeons below
This piratical captain. And then you make tracks,
And go down to the corner and buy a new axe.
SIR WALTER
Oh, your Majesty, please; now you’ve pardoned the rest of us,
And since Kidd,—as a poet at least,—is the best of us,
Why not carry it through and pardon him too?
It would be a most gracious and kind thing to do.
THE QUEEN
Sir Walter, your thoughtfulness does you much credit,
But I don’t like to take back a thing when I’ve said it.
It’s the man I condemn, it isn’t the poet.
And yet—well, Sir Walter, I feel that I owe it
To you and to Alice, since tomorrow you’ll wed,
To give Kidd, since you ask it, a chance for his head.
If he’ll find me a rhyme for “seventy,” I’m
Quite willing to pardon his terrible crime.
CAPTAIN KIDD
To find a rhyme for “seventy” You use the letters “f” and “t.”
THE QUEEN
You’d better try again.
CAPTAIN KIDD
Or you can say: in heaven tea
Is served at half past ten.
Well, the Queen thought this was pretty awful, but after all, he’d tried hard, and he had made a rhyme. So she pardoned him, and promised to have a duplicate of the royal teapot made for his old mother, and the play ended in general rejoicing.
The applause was deafening, and all the actors took several curtain calls, and Mrs. Wiggins took three, and finally had to make a speech.
“Thank you, my friends,” she said, “we have done what we could to give you some pleasure. You have been very good—” Here she broke off and said, “My goodness, I can’t stop talking poetry!” So she tried again. “I only wanted to mention that we’re grateful for your—” Then she stopped again. “Well, anyway,” she said quickly, “thanks!”
Chapter 16
The n
ext day was a quiet one on the farm, for the animals weren’t used to sitting up late, and they were all pretty sleepy. Along about eleven o’clock Freddy went over to the cowbarn to congratulate Mrs. Wiggins on her acting, but he was met at the door by Mrs. Wogus, who looked rather worried.
“I don’t think she wants to see anybody today,” said Mrs. Wogus.
“Why, what’s the matter?” the pig asked.
“Well, it’s that poetry. She can’t seem to stop it. Everything she says rhymes.”
“Really?” said Freddy. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It’ll wear off, I expect.”
“Dear me, I hope so,” said the cow. “Poetry’s all right in a play, but around the house—”
“Sister, who’s that? Is it the cat?” came Mrs. Wiggins’ voice from inside, followed by a deep sigh.
“Goodness, she really is doing it, isn’t she?” said Freddy. “You know what I bet would cure her? Scaring her. It’s probably sort of like the hiccups, and if you give her a good scare, maybe it would go away.” He raised his voice. “Can I come in to see you a minute, Mrs. Wiggins?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Wiggins drearily. “I guess,” she added.
So Freddy went in. “Now don’t talk,” he said. “The more you talk the more you’ll rhyme, and the worse you’ll feel. Let me do the talking. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been keeping an eye on the Snedekers this morning, but they don’t seem to be packing up. They’ve only got three days more, though, before the Beans get back, and my guess is they’ll try to sneak away without our knowing it. I just want everybody to be ready to do whatever’s necessary to stop them. Even if we have to knock them down and sit on them.”
“You can count on me and my sisters three,” said Mrs. Wiggins.
“You’ve only got two sisters,” said the pig.
“It wouldn’t rhyme if I’d said two. I wish you’d tell me what to do.”
“H’m,” said Freddy. “Well—” He looked at her anxiously a minute and then suddenly he leaped in the air and let out a piercing squeal. Mrs. Wiggins gave a jump and then backed away from him.
“My goodness, Freddy,” she said angrily. “That’s a fine thing to do! Come to visit a sick friend, and try to scare her to death! I must say—”
“Hey, wait a minute,” said the pig. “You aren’t talking poetry any more. I cured you! I scared it out of you!”
“Eh?” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Why, so you have, Freddy. Gracious, you’re a clever pig.” She looked at him gratefully. “I’ll do as much for you some time.”
“I wouldn’t want the poetry scared out of me,” said Freddy. “Though right now I’m pretty sick of it, and that’s a fact. I had to push that play through too fast. Well, I must go down to the bank. You be ready if the Snedekers try to get away, won’t you?”
“I’ll be right here,” said Mrs. Wiggins.
But nothing happened that day, or the next. It was on the night of the twenty-fourth—the night before the Beans were to come home—that things began happening.
That night the Snedekers went to bed as usual at about half-past eight. In the Bean parlor the teapot still stood on the little table among the tea things. The parlor was getting darker and darker as the sun sank farther and farther below the western horizon, and at last Mr. Webb, who was standing guard that night, couldn’t see it any more at all.
“You go on to bed, mother,” he said to Mrs. Webb. “I’ll take the first watch. Though I don’t believe anything will happen tonight.”
“Well, this is the last night we’ll have to watch,” said Mrs. Webb, “so you keep your eyes open. And wake me at midnight.”
Mrs. Webb went down behind Washington Crossing the Delaware and climbed into a hammock of her own spinning which she had slung between one of the screw-eyes on the back of the picture and the head of a tack, and was soon sound asleep.
Mr. Webb walked up and down on the top of the frame for a while, but pretty soon he began to get drowsy. So he went and stood upside down on the lower edge. You don’t very often see spiders standing upside down, but if you ever do see one, you will know he is doing it so as to keep from falling asleep. For if he begins to drop off to sleep, he will let go his hold, and then he will drop off whatever he is standing on, and that will wake him up again. It won’t hurt him either, because spiders are so light that it doesn’t hurt them to fall.
Well, Mr. Webb had been on guard for about an hour when he heard someone moving around upstairs. They were moving very quietly, and at first he didn’t pay much attention to it. But when it had gone on for ten minutes or so he went up and waked Mrs. Webb.
“Something going on,” he said. “I thought I’d better call you.”
Mrs. Webb sat up and listened. “Walking back and forth in their stocking feet,” she said. “And that’s a bureau drawer. They’re packing their suitcases. We’d better warn the animals.”
“Someone’s coming downstairs,” said Mr. Webb.
There were stealthy footsteps on the stairs, and then the parlor door opened.
“Be quiet!” whispered Aunt Effie’s voice.
“Eh, Effie,” said Uncle Snedeker’s whisper, “don’t see why we can’t have a light. Ouch! There, I knew it. Ruined my big toe on that chair, that’s what I did.”
“Stand still and let me get it then,” said Aunt Effie. “We mustn’t show a light or the animals will see it and know we’re leaving. I hope you’ve got all your belongings, Snedeker. There’ll be no coming back, once we’ve started. Have you got the key to the car?”
The Webbs didn’t wait for any more. Down they went from the picture frame, leg over leg, and through the crack in the baseboard to the little nest of shavings under the floor where Eeny, who was on guard there that night, was fast asleep. They tickled his nose until he woke up, and then they climbed on his back and away they went, under the floor between the beams, and then outdoors through the hole the mice had gnawed, and down toward the pigpen. Across the barnyard they galloped on that historic ride, like two Paul Reveres riding to warn their friends that the enemy were on the move. At the pigpen door Eeny slid to a stop. Mrs. Webb jumped off, and Mr. Webb rode on to warn the other animals.
Five minutes after Eeny had started from the house, the animals had all quietly gathered in the barn, and had then gone to the posts which Freddy and Jinx had assigned them. For the pig and the cat had worked out a plan. It was a good plan. Freddy, in his favorite disguise of a sunbonnet and an old dress of Mrs. Bean’s, was to lie down in the driveway just inside the gate. When the Snedekers started to drive away, their headlights would shine on him, and they would stop. Then Freddy, who to all appearances would be an old lady who had fainted away, would moan a few times. The Snedekers couldn’t very well drive away and leave her there. After all, they were really pretty kindhearted people. They would have to get out and help her into the house and make her a cup of tea or something. So while they were carrying her into the house the other animals would sneak out, take the suitcases, and hide them somewhere.
The first part of the plan worked all right. The Snedekers came quietly out of the house, put their suitcases in the back seat of the car, then got in, started the engine, and drove quickly down towards the gate. And there was Freddy, looking very old and sick and helpless, lying right in the middle of the drive. The car stopped.
There was Freddy … lying right in the middle of the drive.
“Eh, Effie,” said Uncle Snedeker, “it’s an old woman. Been took sick, likely.”
Aunt Effie was already getting out. She knelt down beside Freddy. “Can we help you?” she said.
Freddy gave a heart-rending groan.
“Here, Snedeker,” said Aunt Effie. “We must help her into the house. Poor old thing. My goodness, what were you doing out on the road so late at night?”
Uncle Snedeker had got out now, too, but as he leaned down to lift Freddy up, his foot slipped on a pebble, and in trying to get his balance he brushed against the sun-b
onnet and knocked it off.
“Clumsy!” said Aunt Effie, and then she saw Freddy’s face. “Snedeker!” she exclaimed. “It’s that pig! Quick! It’s a trick! Get into the car.” And before the animals could rush out to stop them, almost before Freddy could roll out of the way, they were back in the car. Uncle Snedeker had stepped on the accelerator, and with a roar they were through the gate and off down the road.
The animals rushed out from their hiding places to gaze disconsolately after them. For a few minutes nobody said anything. Their disappointment was too deep for words. Then Robert said:
“Well, there goes the teapot. I don’t know how we can look Mrs. Bean in the face tomorrow.”
“That plan of yours was just dandy, Freddy,” said Charles. “Now if you’d listened to me—”
“Oh, shut up, rooster,” said Jinx. “We did the best we knew how. There’s no use quarreling about it. We must think how to get the teapot back.”
“It’ll be in Ohio by morning,” said Freddy sadly.
“Before it is day it will be miles away,” said Mrs. Wiggins, and then she sighed. “Oh, dear,” she said, “the rhyming’s come back, with all this excitement.”
“Where’s Weedly?” said someone suddenly.
“He was with me a few minutes ago,” said Jinx. “He was to help me get the suitcases. Wonder where he is?”
“Probably gone to sleep somewhere,” said Charles. “If some animals could just stick to their instructions, and not—”
“You leave Weedly alone,” interrupted Jinx.
“Well, where is he, then?”
“It’s funny he’d run off like this,” said Freddy. “He’s been a different pig since he was in that play. So helpful and polite. It isn’t like him. Maybe we’d better look for him.”
But though they hunted for an hour, Weedly was not to be found.
Chapter 17
The Snedekers’ old car bumped and bounced as it followed the glare of its headlights down the road towards Ohio. Uncle Snedeker, with his hat jammed on the back of his head, clung grimly to the steering wheel, and Aunt Effie, sitting bolt upright with her shawl drawn tight about her shoulders, swayed to and fro with the motion. Occasionally, as they went over an extra large bump, her bonnet was snapped over one eye. Then she would straighten it. But she didn’t complain, partly because the car made so much noise that Uncle Snedeker couldn’t have heard her, and partly because, if she opened her mouth, she was afraid that she would bite her tongue.
Freddy’s Cousin Weedly Page 13