Freddy and the Popinjay Read online

  “Well, it wouldn’t be as funny to me,” Freddy said. And as Mrs. Wiggins got out on the bank, he walked out on the springboard, bounced twice, and soared up and then down in a long clean dive.

  “Swan dive,” said Emma. “Very pretty, I always think.”

  “Land sakes!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “There’s nothing much to that! I’ll wager I can do as good.” And before anybody could stop her, she was out at the end of the springboard. “Three jumps, and then up I go. One … two …”

  Crash! The board, struck for the third time by several hundred pounds of cow, broke short off, and with a tremendous splash Mrs. Wiggins went down into the pond.

  “Oh, my goodness!” said Uncle Wesley disgustedly, and waddled hurriedly back to the clump of goldenrod.

  Presently Mrs. Wiggins’s head reappeared. “How’s that, Freddy?” she spluttered. “You and your swan dives! I bet you couldn’t do one like that. I bet no swan could dive hind end first, either.”

  “Well, I’m glad you broke the board,” said Freddy. “This pond isn’t big enough for any animal your size to practice diving in.”

  “Ought to hire herself an ocean!” came a grumble from behind the goldenrod.

  “You remember, Freddy,” said Mrs. Wiggins, climbing out and shaking herself, “the games we used to play in the pond when the two boys were here? Remember the water polo games?”

  Freddy remembered them very well. Byram and Adoniram had wanted to play all the games that other boys play, particularly such games as are played between opposing teams. But in the summer there weren’t enough other boys in the neighborhood to make up two teams, so they had to fall back on the animals. They had chosen up sides and tried to play baseball first. But although most of the animals could catch a ball, either with a glove or in their teeth, none of them could throw, and the only animal who could bat was Peter, the bear, and he was so strong that when he really connected with the ball he usually knocked the cover off, and then the game stopped until somebody went to Centerboro and bought a new one.

  Football and basketball hadn’t worked out well either, for about the same reasons. But water polo had been a success from the start. All the animals could swim, and they could all knock a ball in the direction they wanted it to go, with hoofs or paws or heads. At first some of the smaller ones had been at a disadvantage, until a rule had been made that cows and horses could only use their heads, and not their hoofs, in hitting the ball. After that the two permanent teams—Byram’s Red Pirates and Adoniram’s Rural Commandos—had played a long series of games. Mr. Bean had even come up and umpired some of them.

  “Yes, sir, those were great games,” said Freddy. “I saw that ball we used to play with just the other day, when we were up in the loft. Made me quite homesick for the old days. I started to write a poem about them. It went like this:

  When I was a piglet, the grass was much greener,

  Always looked as if it had just come from the cleaner,

  And life was much gayer, in so many ways.

  Ah, those were the days!

  Now I’m old, and my joints are increasingly creaky;

  My hearing is poor, and my memory’s leaky;

  And I weep as I put down these sad little rhymes.

  Ah, those were the times!

  In my youth, I was always prepared for a frolic;

  I never had pains, rheumatism or colic;

  I never had aches: head, stomach or tooth.

  Ah, the days of my youth!

  “Good land, Freddy, you sound as if you were about ninety years old,” Mrs. Wiggins said with a laugh.

  “Well, I will be some day,” said Freddy, “and then this poem will be all ready for me. Ho, hum; yes. You know, just thinking about what it will be like when I’m as old as that makes me feel pretty feeble.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I could have sworn I had a long grey beard.”

  “I don’t like sad poetry,” said Emma. “Dear me, there are enough cheerful things in the world without thinking up such mournful ones to write poems about.”

  “I agree with you,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I think Freddy probably needs a good dose of sulphur and molasses to tone him up a little.”

  “No, thanks,” said Freddy. “But I wouldn’t mind limbering up my creaky old joints with a good game of water polo. What do you say, Mrs. W.? Shall we round up the others, and I’ll get the ball. Of course, we haven’t got the boys to captain the teams, but …” He stopped short and stared with narrowed eyes at the cow. “Golly!” he said. “Boys.” Then he whirled and dashed off at top speed towards the barnyard. “Stay right there till I get back,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Emma sighed. “I expect he’s coming down with another idea,” she said resignedly. She knew from experience that when Freddy got one of his ideas it usually meant a lot of work, and probably trouble, for everyone.

  “I’ve said before and I’ll say it again,” said Mrs. Wiggins flatly, “that all these ideas aren’t healthy. Sulphur and molasses—that’s what he needs. There isn’t an idea that a good dose of sulphur and molasses won’t cure.” And she went on to tell of boys she had known of who, thoroughly dosed with sulphur and molasses every spring, had been completely free from ideas all the rest of their lives.

  While they were discussing this, Freddy ran down and got his barrel-head shield, and then he went up along the fence looking for Jimmy. And pretty soon he found him. The boy jumped up from where he had been hiding and threw a stone. “Yah!” he shouted. “Thought you were pretty smart, keeping us awake all night, didn’t you?” And he threw another. But he didn’t seem to be mad, and that was a good sign.

  Freddy caught both stones on his shield. “I guess we weren’t so smart,” he said. Then he backed away until he was out of range.

  “Hey, come back!” said Jimmy. “Let’s see you catch some more stones.” It seemed evident that he thought of his stone-throwing—at least when he threw them at Freddy—as more of a game than a fight.

  “Can’t,” said Freddy. “Have to go.”

  “Oh, come on.” Jimmy came over and leaned on the fence. “There’s a tree up here—my father doesn’t know what it is. I want to ask you about it.”

  This was so clear an invitation to a truce that Freddy almost weakened. But he knew he had a better plan. “Not now,” he said. “We’re playing off a big game this afternoon, up at the duck pond. Water polo. Championship match. Red Pirates vs. Rural Commandos.”

  Jimmy said: “Oh,” and looked down at the ground. “Didn’t know you played games,” he said. He dug in the grass with a bare big toe.

  Freddy thought: “I’ve got him hooked. Better not say any more.” So he just waved his shield. “Be seeing you,” he called, and trotted off. A minute later when he looked back, Jimmy was still leaning on the fence, looking down at the ground.

  In half an hour Freddy had got the ball and rounded up the other animals, and after he had given instructions to the two rabbits whom he was employing as spies, he and Mrs. Wiggins chose up sides. Freddy had Hank, Mrs. Wogus, Robert and John, the fox who usually spent his summers on the farm; Mrs. Wiggins had Mrs. Wurzburger, Bill, the goat, Georgie, and Freddy’s cousin, Weedly. Although they hadn’t played in a long time, they were tough experienced teams, and when they had taken their places and Jinx, the umpire, tossed the ball into the water, the pond began to boil with activity.

  In the first ten minute period, Freddy’s team scored two goals. But before the second period started, Mrs. Wiggins gave her team such a stirring pep talk that in the first half minute of play, they rushed their opponents not merely off their feet but practically under water, and tied the score. Then Freddy’s team pulled itself together and held the score even until Jinx called time.

  They were resting after this period when one of Freddy’s spies came up and whispered in his ear. Freddy went over to Jinx and talked to him earnestly for a minute or two. Jinx looked surprised, but he nodded. Then Freddy went back and lay down to rest again. But when it was
time to get up he just lay there and closed his eyes. And when they called him again, and he was sure everybody was looking at him, he squealed feebly several times and began to pant.

  They crowded around him. “Freddy!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “What is it—what’s the matter? Are you sick?”

  “No, no—it’s nothing,” Freddy gasped. “I’m just exhausted, that’s all. Can’t take it—way I used to. Ah, the days of my youth!” he quoted, and moaned a little.

  The animals were alarmed—all but Jinx, who knew Freddy’s plan. Hank said: “You sure look terrible, Freddy. Don’t seem as if anybody could be as sick as you look. Though I dunno, maybe they could be sicker. But they’d have to try hard.”

  Freddy struggled up on one elbow. “No, no; I’m not sick. Just tired. But carry on, my friends. I insist—the game must go on.”

  “There’ll only be four on our side if we go on,” said Mrs. Wogus. “We’d better stop anyway—”

  But Freddy insisted. He’d be all right as soon as he’d rested a little. “Jinx, you’ll have to find a substitute for me.”

  So Jinx called in a loud voice: “Anybody want to play? Anybody want to take Freddy’s place in the game?”

  “There’s no sense in that,” said Robert. “Everybody on the farm that can play is here now.” But Freddy waved his hand towards the woods that came close to the bank on the far side of the pond. “There’s somebody in among those trees; I just saw him move.”

  The animals looked. They hadn’t noticed him before, but now they saw Jimmy, standing under the shadow of the trees. He had been there for some time, watching the game longingly.

  The animals drew together at sight of the enemy, but Freddy said in a low voice: “It’s all right; I planned this.” Then Jinx called to the boy: “Hey, you! Want to play? Come on—you’re holding up the game.”

  Jimmy came slowly forward. He would have refused a polite invitation to play. But if you take it for granted that someone will do something, nine times out of ten they will do it. Jinx had seen that, and his offhand manner had turned the trick. Jimmy didn’t say anything until he reached the edge of the pond. Then he said: “I’ll get wet.”

  All he had on was a pair of patched overalls, which water certainly wouldn’t have damaged much. But Freddy—who was sitting up now, though he still didn’t seem to have the use of his legs—asked Georgie to run down to the house and ask Mrs. Bean for Adoniram’s bathing trunks. While they were waiting he explained the rules to the boy. And when the trunks were brought, Jimmy put them on and the game continued.

  Freddy sat on the bank and watched. Jimmy didn’t know much about teamwork. He played as if he were all alone. He never passed the ball to others on his side, and never apparently expected them to pass it to him. But all the animals knew by now what Freddy’s idea had been, and they let Jimmy play in his own way. He could learn about teamwork later.

  Of course as in all games there was a good deal of laughing and shouting and complaining, and there were several disputes which Jinx had to settle. Jimmy took no part in all this, but after a little he did begin to laugh. He laughed so hard when the animals splashed the umpire for making a sour decision that he swallowed a lot of water—which by now was pretty muddy—and had to be pulled out and whacked on the back until he stopped coughing. After that he seemed to begin to feel that he was one of the crowd.

  After the game—which was won of course by Jimmy’s team—the boy dried himself with a bath towel which Mrs. Bean had thoughtfully sent up with the trunks, and got back into his overalls.

  “Well,” he said, “I—I’ve got to go now.”

  So the animals thanked him for playing and said goodbye. As he started off towards home, he stopped and turned uncertainly back.

  “When,” he said, “—when do you—” And he stopped.

  “When do we play again?” said Freddy. “Oh, tomorrow, I guess, if it’s sunny. We’ll let you know.”

  “Well,” said Jinx when he had gone, “this is the second time we’ve got him into the pond. But this time I guess it’s going to take.”

  “We hope,” Freddy said. “Anyway, I’m glad we didn’t have to ask Mr. Bean to help us.”

  Chapter 11

  The days that followed were pretty peaceful. Jimmy came over and played water polo every afternoon, and no more stones were thrown. But Freddy wasn’t satisfied with the boy. When he wasn’t playing games he was rather sullen and grumpy; he never suggested anything to do, and he seemed suspicious of everyone else’s suggestions. Most of the animals only put up with him because while he was playing with them he wasn’t throwing stones. Freddy and Mrs. Wiggins were the only ones that realized why he was so unsociable. They knew that he was ashamed because he didn’t have any of the things other boys had, and so he was afraid that the animals were laughing at him, as other boys had laughed at him in school.

  Jinx had been pretty disgusted when on the second day Jimmy had got mad at something he said, and had gone off home in the middle of the game. “I was just kidding him,” said the cat. “If he can’t take a joke, what good is he? Are we going to have to spend the rest of our lives scratching his head and calling him pretty names?”

  “He’ll get over all that,” said Freddy.

  Jinx said: “Yeah? How about

  The leopard cannot change his spots,

  Or the pig his curly tail?”

  “Oh, that old thing!” said Freddy. “If that’s all that’s bothering you, I’ll write a better verse for you.”

  But Freddy didn’t write the verse, for he had another idea. He had been telling Jimmy, at odd times, some of the stories he had been reading. Nobody had ever given Jimmy any books, and he was too far from the Centerboro Free Library to draw out books, so he never read anything in the summertime. The stories that seemed to interest him most were those about King Arthur and his knights, and how they used to hold tournaments and joust with long lances. Freddy didn’t know how he could use that interest at first. But then he discovered something about Jimmy that showed him a way.

  One afternoon a day or two later, Freddy and Jimmy were sitting under the trees by the duck pond. The game was over and the other players had gone back down to the barnyard, but Jimmy had stayed because Freddy was telling him a story. From where they sat they could see, across the pond, the whole Bean farm spread out—barns and house and fences, and the animals moving among them. And then all at once, down by the house, something glittered. It was as if somebody was flashing a very small mirror at them, and then other little dazzling points flashed and disappeared. Some were blue and red, as well as white.

  Freddy got up. He shaded his eyes with his fore-trotter and looked under it, and then he laughed. For Mrs. Winfield Church was coming up across the fields towards them, and as she walked, all her ten-cent store jewelry flashed and sparkled as if she had planets and constellations pinned all over her. He went around the end of the pond to meet her. But Jimmy stayed where he was.

  “Well, Freddy,” said Mrs. Church, “if you won’t come to see me, I have to come see you. Not that I mind for myself, because it’s always a pleasure to see all the old friends, but it’s hard on Riley. He’s down on the porch getting his wind back, and Mrs. Bean is bringing him some cider. But if he eats all the doughnuts she’s brought out to him, he’ll never be able to pedal me back home.”

  “Then you’ll have to stay here, and I think that would be nice for all of us,” said Freddy gallantly. And then he turned towards Jimmy, who was still on the other side of the pond. “This is my friend, Jimmy Witherspoon.”

  Jimmy said: “How de do,” in an embarrassed voice.

  “Very glad to meet you,” said Mrs. Church heartily. “But do come around here, boy. I can’t keep shouting at you across the water.”

  Jimmy came reluctantly towards them. He was plainly afraid that Mrs. Church might snub him, because of his ragged clothes. But to Mrs. Church, any friend of Freddy’s was a friend of hers, whether he wore satin or burlap. She smiled at the b
oy and shook hands with him, and then they all sat down on the grass and she said: “You know, Freddy, my niece’s wedding is next week, and you and our friend, the popinjay, haven’t been down to see me yet. We have to rehearse for the ceremony, but we can’t rehearse without you two. Why couldn’t you come down this afternoon? You could stay to supper, and we’d have plenty of time to go over everything.”

  Freddy said he’d find Mr. Pomeroy and they’d come down. “I tell you what we’ll do,” he said; “we’ll hitch Hank up to the phaeton and take you and Riley down.”

  “Fine!” said Mrs. Church. “And we’d like to have you come too,” she said to Jimmy.

  “I have to go home,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” said Mrs. Church. “Because I was thinking—there are a lot of books my niece had—they’re boys’ books—she always liked boys’ books—and of course as she’s getting married she doesn’t want them any more. I’ve been wondering who to give them to. Wouldn’t you like them?”

  But Jimmy just looked sullenly at the ground. And after they had waited nearly a minute for his answer, he said: “I don’t want your old books!” And he turned and walked off towards the woods.

  “Well!” said Freddy. “That wasn’t very polite!”

  “No,” said Mrs. Church. “But you mustn’t blame the boy too much. He’s Zenas Witherspoon’s boy, isn’t he? I’d like to shake Zenas until his teeth rattled! He’s never given the boy anything but his cast-off clothes, and enough food to keep him alive. And the old skinflint has plenty of money; he could buy and sell me three times over. Yet that boy has never had a Christmas present, never had as much as five cents a week spending money.”

  “You’d think he’d jump at those books, then,” said Freddy.

  “No. He’s ashamed of looking so poor, and he’s proud. He won’t take anything unless he can make some return for it. Mrs. Bean was just talking about him; she’s got all those things of Adoniram’s—books and clothes and games that he doesn’t want any more, and she said she’d like to give them to this boy. But she was afraid he wouldn’t take them.”