The Great Brain Does It Again

by John D. Fitzgerald

  “You know, J. D.,” Tom said, “there is something mighty fishy about Herbie gaining weight after all those exercises. When we finish the exercises this afternoon we’ll follow him. I know he is cheating and not keeping his promise to cut out the candy and sweets.”

  Tom put Herbie through two hours of exercises that afternoon and made him run around the block four times. Then we followed Herbie without him knowing it. Herbie went straight to the drugstore. He was in there for a little while. Then he came out and went to the Z. C. M. I. store while Tom and I hid behind trees so he wouldn’t see us. He came out of the store with a bag filled with something. We followed him and saw him go around in back of the Community Church. When we peeked around the corner Herbie was eating candy from the bag. Tom and I ran all the way back to the drugstore. Sammy Leeds was behind the soda fountain.

  “You know Herbie Sties who just left here?” Tom asked.

  “I should,” Sammy said. “He is our best customer. Every day this week he has been coming here and eating a chocolate nut sundae.”

  Then Tom and I ran to the Z. C. M. I. store. Mr. Harmon was alone in the store.

  “The fat boy who just left here,” Tom said. “Has he been buying much candy from you, Mr. Harmon?”

  “You mean Herbie Sties,” Mr. Harmon said. “That is the candiest-eating boy I’ve ever seen. He has been stopping here every day this week and buying ten cents worth of candy.”

  “Thank you,” Tom said.

  Then Tom and I ran back to the Community Church. Herbie was just plopping a gumdrop into his mouth as we came upon him. He wadded up the empty bag and threw it away. He had eaten the whole ten cents worth of candy while we were gone. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Ah ha!” Tom said. “I caught you. No wonder you put on weight this week, eating chocolate nut sundaes at the drugstore and candy every day. And I’ll bet you’ve been eating double desserts at home.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Herbie pleaded. “All those exercises and running around the block made me so hungry I felt as if I was starving to death.”

  “I’m going to cure you of being a greedy gut or my name isn’t T. D. Fitzgerald,” Tom said. “Come with me.”

  We went to our barn. Tom climbed up to his loft and returned with an old Bible.

  “Put your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand,” Tom ordered.

  Herbie did as he was told.

  “Now repeat after me,” Tom said. “I, Herbie Sties, do solemnly swear on the Holy Bible to stop eating ice cream and candy and more than one dessert a day.”

  Herbie repeated the words.

  Tom continued: “And if I break my sacred vow, my soul will belong to the Devil and I’ll burn in everlasting Hell, so help me God.”

  Herbie turned a little pale but repeated the words.

  “Now, Herbie,” Tom said, “Sammy Leeds will let me know if you buy any more ice cream at the drugstore. And Mr. Harmon will let me know if you buy any more candy at the Z. C. M. I. store. And God and the Devil will know if you eat more than one dessert a day at home. And if you break your sacred oath your soul will belong to Satan and you will burn in everlasting Hell.”

  * * *

  During the week that followed Tom checked every day with Sammy Leeds and Mr. Harmon. Herbie didn’t buy any ice cream or candy. Tom increased the exercises and now had Herbie running around the block five times. He began rubbing the palms of his hands together on Saturday morning as we sat on the back porch steps waiting for Herbie.

  “I’ll bet I took at least five pounds off of Herbie this week,” he said. “And at ten cents a pound that comes to fifty cents.”

  “Herbie sure as heck doesn’t look any thinner to me,” I said.

  “He has to be,” Tom said confidently. “He might have lost more than five pounds.”

  Herbie arrived a few minutes later. We all went to Dr. LeRoy’s office. And I’ll be a frog that can’t swim if Herbie had lost even one pound. Tom was sure down in the dumps when we left the doctor’s office. But he didn’t give up. He told Herbie to be in our barn that afternoon for exercises. When we got home Tom went up to his loft to put his great brain to work on why Herbie hadn’t lost any weight. When he came down for lunch he told me his great brain had figured it out but he wouldn’t tell me any more.

  That afternoon Tom made Herbie exercise for two hours and run around the block six times. He waited until Herbie left and then turned to me.

  ‘We are going to follow him,” Tom said, “but don’t let him see you.”

  We followed Herbie down Main Street ducking behind trees until we arrived at Smith’s vacant lot. We peeked around trees from the street. Herbie called Danny Forester to one side. It looked as if he was giving Danny something. Then both of them began walking down Main Street. They parted at the Community Church. Herbie went around to the back and Danny continued on to the Z. C. M. I. store.

  “My great brain was right,” Tom said. “Herbie has got Danny buying candy for him.”

  Tom was only half right. When Danny met Herbie in back of the Community Church he had a big bag. Tom and I peeked around the corner of the church. Danny gave Herbie the bag. First Herbie took out two candy bars and gave one to Danny. They finished eating the candy bars and then Danny left to go back to Smith’s vacant lot. Then Herbie took out a box of animal crackers and ate them. He followed this by eating some gumdrops and peppermint sticks. Then he took out a box of ginger snaps and ate them. Then he ate more candy.

  “What a greedy gut,” Tom whispered with disgust.

  “Are you going to denounce him on the spot?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” Tom said. “Let’s go. I’ve got to put my great brain to work on this.”

  As we walked home I couldn’t help asking a question. “Is Herbie’s father rich?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tom said. “He is just a bookkeeper at the bank.”

  “Then where is Herbie getting all the money he is spending?” I asked.

  “When the Sties lived in Salt Lake City,” Tom said, “Herbie had an allowance of fifty cents a week like a lot of kids in a big city. Mr. Sties is probably still giving him fifty cents a week not knowing kids in a small town only get an allowance of about ten cents a week.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Herbie took an oath on the Bible. You don’t think that maybe he is a fellow who doesn’t believe in God.”

  “Of course not,” Tom said. “Herbie is such a greedy gut that his stomach convinced him the oath was just kid stuff, which it was. And I’ll bet he is having double helpings of dessert at home.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “About the oath being kid stuff?”

  “The only people who can administer an oath on the Bible are priests, ministers, judges, clerks of the court, and people like that,” Tom explained. “But my great brain will figure out a way to convince Herbie the oath he took was a sacred vow.”

  When we got home Tom went up to his loft in the barn to put his great brain to work. He was smiling when he came down after about half an hour.

  “My great brain did it,” he said grinning. “If Satan sends one of his devils to claim Herbie’s soul, that will convince Herbie it was a sacred vow.”

  “Nothing to it,” I said, and couldn’t help being a little sarcastic. “Just telephone Satan and tell him to send one of his devils to claim Herbie’s soul.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Tom said. “You are going to be the devil. Come with me.”

  I followed Tom into our house and up to the attic. Mamma was a saver. She never threw anything away. With four boys someone could always wear hand-me-downs. Tom found the box in the attic where Mamma stored our Halloween costumes so they could be used again. He dug into the box until he found a red devil costume he had worn two years before.

  “It will just fit you now,” he said. “Tomorrow night Herbie Sties is going to get a visit from a devil.”

  The next mor
ning after services at the Community Church Tom and I walked a couple of blocks with Herbie.

  “Just wanted you to know,” Tom said to Herbie, “that I haven’t given up making you lose weight. Same time tomorrow after school in our barn. I know you haven’t broken your sacred vow about eating ice cream or candy or Sammy Leeds and Mr. Harmon would have told me. And I know you are only eating one dessert a day at home or Satan would have sent one of his devils to claim your soul. I guess we will just have to increase the exercises.”

  * * *

  That night Tom went upstairs with Frankie and me at eight o’clock. He told Papa and Mamma that he felt tired and was going to bed early. We had the devil’s costume hidden in our bedroom clothes closet. I took off my clothes except for my underwear and shoes and put on the costume. It was a red suit with a tail and a combination headpiece and mask which had two horns in front and a face that looked like Satan’s.

  Frankie’s eyes grew wide as he stared at me. “I know it is you, John,” he said, “but you scare me.”

  Tom smiled. “Let’s hope it scares the be-jabbers out of Herbie Sties,” he said. “You go to bed, Frankie.”

  Tom removed the screen from our bedroom window. We climbed down the elm tree to the ground. Our two dogs came running to greet us. We locked them in the barn so they couldn’t follow us. Then we sneaked down alleys and side streets until we were in back of Herbie’s home. It was a one-storey house with two bedrooms.

  “The back bedroom is Herbie’s,” Tom whispered. “I found out his parents let him stay up until eight-thirty. We’ll get under the window. When he comes into the bedroom I’ll boost you up. Put your face close to the windowpane so he gets a good look at you. And then motion with your finger as if you’re calling him. Then touch me on the shoulder and I’ll let you down. Let’s go.”

  We were all set under the bedroom window when the light was turned on. Tom boosted me up and held me. I could see Herbie sitting in a chair taking off his shoes. He didn’t see me because his head was bent down. I knocked on the windowpane. Herbie lifted his head and stared at me with a look of terror on his face. He stood up and I could see his whole body was trembling as if it was made of jelly. His mouth opened and shut but no sound came out. I motioned with my finger as if I were calling him. His eyeballs began to roll around in their sockets and then he fell face forward on the floor. I touched Tom on the shoulder. He let me down.

  “He fainted,” I whispered.

  “Good,” Tom said. “That proves he’s scared and really believes Satan sent a devil for his soul.”

  Tom erased our footprints with a gunnysack as we left the yard. We made it back home without being seen. We let the dogs out of the barn and then climbed up the elm tree to our bedroom. Tom sat down on his bed.

  “If that doesn’t cure Herbie of being a greedy gut,” he said, “I don’t know what will.”

  I removed the headpiece. “I still can’t figure out how scaring Herbie is going to help,” I said, keeping my voice low because Frankie was sleeping. “He’ll figure he has nothing to lose by being a greedy gut now that his soul belongs to Satan.”

  “Not if he thinks he can get his soul back,” Tom said. “Tomorrow he’ll come to me and confess he broke his sacred vow and Satan sent a devil to claim his soul. I’ll tell him the only way he can get his soul back and have God forgive him is to never eat any more candy, ice cream, or desserts again. He’ll be so scared he will do it. I’ll take twenty-six pounds off him in no time. That two dollars and sixty cents is as good as if it was in my pocket right now.”

  But Herbie didn’t come to school Monday morning. When I told Tom about it at noon he seemed pleased.

  “He is so darned scared he was too sick to go to school,” Tom said.

  But when Herbie didn’t come to school on Tuesday either, Tom was worried. He and I went to the Sties home that afternoon.

  “Is Herbie sick?” Tom asked Mrs. Sties when she opened the front door. “He hasn’t been in school for two days.”

  “We don’t know what’s the matter with him,” Mrs. Sties said. “He fainted Sunday night. He won’t eat a thing. He won’t leave his room. He seems frightened of something but he won’t tell us what it is. If he isn’t better by tomorrow morning we will have to call the doctor. I’ll tell Herbie you called.”

  Tom was smiling as we walked home. “Did you hear that, J. D.?” he asked. “Herbie won’t eat a thing. That should take off a few pounds.”

  My conscience began to bother me a little bit. “Maybe we should have told his mother the truth,” I said. “She sure looked worried.”

  “The longer Herbie doesn’t eat,” Tom said, “the more weight he’ll lose at ten cents a pound.”

  Herbie didn’t come to school all that week. When Papa came home from the Advocate office on Friday he looked worried. Mamma met him in the parlor with the usual kiss. Then she stepped back and looked at him.

  “What is bothering you, dear?” she asked.

  “The Sties boy,” Papa said. “I heard he was ill and thought I might put an item in the local news about it. I went to see Mr. Sties at the bank and then to talk to Dr. LeRoy. The boy is suffering from some strange illness that Dr. LeRoy can’t diagnose. He fainted last Sunday night and has refused to eat a bite since. If they try to force feed him the boy just spits the food out. And he is terribly frightened about something but he won’t say what it is. It’s so serious that Dr. LeRoy is going to have Mr. and Mrs. Sties take the boy to a hospital in Salt Lake City tomorrow.”

  Tom looked a little pale. “Is it that serious?” he asked.

  “It is very serious,” Papa said.

  “Would it help if Dr. LeRoy knew what frightened Herbie?” Tom asked.

  “That is the crux of the whole matter,” Papa said. “It’s as if the boy is afraid of being poisoned and won’t eat.” Then Papa clapped his hands to the sides of his head. “Oh, no,” he cried. “Not you again.”

  “I was only trying to make Herbie lose some weight,” Tom said. “I just wanted him to believe the Devil would claim his soul if he didn’t stop eating candy, ice cream, and desserts. I didn’t think it would make him so sick that he would have to be taken to a hospital in Salt Lake City.”

  Papa’s cheeks puffed up until I thought his head would take off like a balloon. He staggered to his rocking chair and slumped down into it.

  “What have I ever done to deserve a son like you?” he cried, still holding his head.

  Then Mamma took over with her usual crisp manner in a crisis. “Tom Dennis,” she said, “out with it, and I mean all of it.”

  Tom made a complete confession. Papa was so flabbergasted that he just sat there staring at Tom as if my brother had just confessed he’d murdered half the people in town. But not Mamma. She was just plain angry.

  “Supper can wait,” she said briskly and with plenty of authority. “Tom Dennis, you just march yourself up to the attic and get that red devil suit this minute. And John Dennis, you put on that costume. And don’t dilly-dally doing it.”

  I knew Mamma was really angry when she called us by our first and middle names. “Why did you have to confess?” I asked Tom when we got to the attic. “We’ll get the silent treatment for at least a month and probably lose our allowances for six months.”

  “What did you want me to do?” Tom asked. “Let Herbie die?”

  That made me feel ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it.”

  Dr. LeRoy was in the parlor when we returned. I was dressed in the red devil costume.

  “We are going to call on Mr. and Mrs. Sties,” Mamma said. “And you two are going to tell them everything and beg for their forgiveness.”

  * * *

  Tom made a complete confession in the parlor of the Sties home. I thought Herbie’s parents would be very angry. Instead they were so relieved to find out Herbie didn’t have any strange disease that they forgave Tom and me.

  Tom was looking plenty relieved himself. “I’d better go t
ell Herbie now,” he said.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sties looked at Dr. LeRoy who nodded. I walked with Tom to the door of Herbie’s bedroom.

  “You stay outside until I call you,” Tom whispered. “I’ll leave the door open so you can hear.”

  Tom entered the bedroom.

  “Hello, Herbie,” I heard him say.

  “It’s goodbye and not hello,” Herbie said in a weak voice. “I’m going to die and my soul is going straight to Hell. I broke my sacred vow and Satan sent one of his devils to claim my soul.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been eating?” Tom asked.

  “I can’t eat,” Herbie said. “God is punishing me for breaking my sacred vow. He won’t let me eat anything. The food sticks in my throat and I have to spit it out. God wants to starve me to death for breaking my sacred vow and being a greedy gut.”

  “You aren’t going to die,” Tom said. “I knew Danny Forester was buying you crackers and candy and meeting you behind the Community Church. I just wanted to throw a scare into you. That wasn’t a real devil you saw Sunday night. That was J. D. dressed in a Halloween costume.”

  “Honest?” Herbie asked.

  “Let me introduce you to the devil you saw,” Tom said. Then he called, “You can come in now, J. D.”

  I entered the bedroom. Herbie looked terrible. His face was all sunk in and pale. He stared at me.

  “Is . . . is that really you, John?” Herbie asked.

  I took off the headpiece and mask. “It’s me all right,” I said. “Tom boosted me up. I’m the devil you saw Sunday night. You were bent over taking off your shoes. I knocked on the windowpane. You looked up and saw me. Then you stood up. I wiggled my finger at you and you fainted.”

  Tom looked at Herbie. “Satisfied it was J. D. and not a real devil you saw?” he asked.

  “Then the sacred vow didn’t count,” Herbie said.

  “How could it?” Tom asked. “Only a priest or a minister or a judge or a clerk of the court or somebody like that can administer an oath on the Bible. It was just kid stuff. I just wanted you to believe it was a sacred vow to scare you into taking off some weight.”