Jimmy looked down at his bare feet, which seemed sort of out of place coming out of the legs of his fine trousers. Obviously he couldn’t wear the suit unless he had shoes to go with it. “Would I?” he said. “I expect I could get you a couple of bones. I don’t carry any around with me.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Robert. “If you can bring me a couple in the next day or two, you can have the shoes now, and good riddance to them. They’re no use to me.” And so the trade was made.
Wildcats as a rule aren’t very generous, but Mac seemed to want to make a good impression. He divided up the cake among the other animals, keeping only a small piece for himself. His generosity was much applauded, and a good many of the animals began to feel that he was really a pretty good fellow, and to hope that he might stay around for a while. “He sort of livens things up,” they said.
As the spectators streamed away from the pond, Charles fell in beside Freddy. “Pretty dull show,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Freddy said. “We had lots of fun. Anyway, it wasn’t held for your amusement, Charles. We wanted Jimmy to have those clothes.”
“Well, it’s not my idea of a tournament,” said Charles. “It would have been more fun if it had been bloodier. Pshaw! Pillows on the lance points, and being pushed off a cow’s back like a turtle off a log! Where’s your danger, where’s your glory? I guess your old King Arthur would have laughed himself sick over it.”
“Well, he’s been dead for a thousand years, so I don’t see why you should worry about that,” Freddy observed.
“I guess that wildcat’s alive, and I bet he laughs at us,” said Charles. “Now there’s a fighter! He comes down out of the woods, like a knight-errant, looking for adventure, and there isn’t one of us that has the gumption to give him a real fight.”
Freddy grinned. “If you want to fight him, rooster, I expect he’d be willing to oblige.” He walked along thoughtfully for a minute. “You know,” he said, “I don’t quite like the way he acts. He’s too darned genial. And what does he want with Peter? I’ve a good mind to send a messenger to Peter—tell him about it. He’ll be back in another week, and maybe he ought to be warned before he gets here.”
“Now that you speak about it,” Charles said, “he did seem a little sinister, in spite of his good manners. And I didn’t at all like the way he looked at Henrietta.”
“I know what you mean,” said Freddy. “I saw him looking at you the same way. Sort of wondering if you’d be better fricasseed, or roasted with sage and onions. My experience is, when anybody looks at you like that it’s time to get your coat and hat and tell your hostess what a nice time you’ve had.”
Charles shivered. “I guess I’d better turn on the burglar alarm in the henhouse tonight. Where’s Mac going to stay?”
“He said something about waiting until Peter came back, so he’ll be around for a few days. I suppose he’ll sleep up in Peter’s den. I told him that I’d like to offer him that empty box stall, but that I knew Mr. Bean wouldn’t like to have a wildcat in the barn, and he seemed to understand. He was quite nice about it, really. I have an idea he doesn’t want to cause any trouble before Peter gets back.”
“Well, don’t forget to send off that messenger,” said Charles.
Chapter 13
In spite of Freddy’s misgivings, the wildcat gave them no trouble. After the tournament he went up into the woods, and for a day or two the farm animals didn’t see him again, though Freddy learned that he had moved into Peter’s den. He was living there very quietly. He spent a good deal of his time in long solitary walks, or lying out on a limb with his eyes shut, purring harshly. Occasionally he would come down and pay a short formal call on one or another of the farm animals. It all seemed very harmless, but Freddy sent his messenger off anyway. This messenger—one of the more reliable of the barn swallows—was to find Peter and tell him the news, and then report back to Freddy.
Freddy had a good deal on his mind these days. There was the wildcat, and there was Jimmy—who hadn’t been seen since the tournament, so that no one knew whether he was wearing his new clothes or not. And there was the wedding of Mrs. Church’s niece. Of course Freddy was going to the wedding, and there was nothing special to worry him in that, since he had often attended social functions in Centerboro, and so was quite at home in any society. But he wanted to make a proper appearance, and of course you can’t do that unless you have the proper clothes.
Fortunately among the costumes which he kept in a closet off his study, for use as disguises in his detective work, there were a pair of striped trousers, a black coat, and a tall silk hat, which were quite suitable for a formal wedding. But unfortunately the former owner of these garments—if he can be called the owner—was a scarecrow, and scarecrows are pretty hard on their clothes. So the things were in bad shape. They were crumpled and stained, the trouser cuffs were frayed, one sleeve was nearly out of the coat, and the hat had several serious dents in it.
Freddy borrowed some cleaning fluid from Mrs. Bean and sat up nearly all night for two nights getting the spots out, and then he borrowed a needle and some black thread and tried to make the necessary repairs. He wasn’t very handy with a needle. He got his friend, Randolph, a large beetle who lived up by the brook, to help him thread it, but even when he got it threaded his problems were only beginning. For not only were his stitches much too large and too uneven, but at nearly every other stitch he stuck the needle into himself, and when he did that he squealed. The squeals were so continuous that the animals who passed the pig pen when he was sewing thought he was singing to himself as he worked.
“I wouldn’t have taken all this trouble for anybody but Mrs. Church,” he said to Randolph. “Ouch! I put the needle in, and I never can tell where it is coming out. Ow! But I don’t see how it always manages to come through the cloth—ow-wow!—just where some of me happens to be.”
When at last he had the mending done he went up to the house and got Mrs. Bean to press the suit for him, and then he tried it on. It really looked very nice if you didn’t stand too close. I can’t say as much for the hat. He had brushed it until it shone like a freshly painted stovepipe, and then he had tried to push out the dents from the inside. He was working at the last one when he pushed too hard, and the brim came right away from the crown. He fastened them together again as well as he could with some adhesive tape, and then thought he’d better not work on it any more.
On the day of the wedding he dressed with great care, then went up to the house for Mrs. Bean to put on the finishing touches. She lent him Mr. Bean’s best necktie—a red velvet one, with hand-painted calla lilies on it, which had been a wedding present from Mr. Bean’s sister. Mr. Bean had only worn it once or twice, because he didn’t wear a tie when he was working, and when he dressed up he usually didn’t bother either, because nobody could see whether he had a tie on or not, on account of his beard. So it was practically brand new. Mrs. Bean tied it for Freddy, and then she picked a rose and put it in his buttonhole. It was pink, and made a nice contrast with the tie.
None of the other animals were going to the wedding, although they had all been invited. Mrs. Wiggins said she didn’t like weddings: they always made her cry. “And when I cry,” she said, “there’s no use trying to go on with the ceremony until I stop.” Which of course was true; when Mrs. Wiggins cried she made a terrible lot of noise. Hank said if he was the one that was being married he guessed he’d probably go, but otherwise he didn’t see any point in it. And the others all made one excuse or another. The truth was that they didn’t like being stared at and asked questions by strangers, and there would of course be a good many out-of-town people at a big wedding like this. They wouldn’t have minded if it had been just the Centerboro people, who knew and liked them, and indeed often invited one or more of them to parties and teas. But strangers would be surprised to see cows and pigs and chickens at a formal wedding, and wouldn’t, perhaps, be polite enough not to show it.
&nbs
p; Freddy had at first intended to walk into town, but he decided that he might as well do the thing in style, so he persuaded Hank to get hitched up to the phaeton and drive him in. When he got to Mrs. Church’s he was glad that he had done so. There was a long line of limousines and handsome cars moving slowly up the drive, and as each one came to the steps leading up to the front door, it stopped and a group of people in their best clothes got out and went into the house. Hank fell into line and in spite of the rheumatic stiffness in his off hind leg, managed to give Freddy’s entrance some style by prancing a little as he drew up at the steps. Then Freddy got out, and with the silk hat tipped at a jaunty angle, bustled up the steps.
A maid in a little white cap and apron took his hat and showed him into the drawing room. He was so well dressed that I don’t think she even noticed that he was a pig. A large crowd of guests was moving about, talking and laughing and looking at the wedding presents, which were displayed on several long tables. The Bean animals didn’t of course have much money to buy presents with, but they had sent a handsome wreath of field flowers which was prominently displayed. Freddy was admiring this when someone slapped his shoulder and a jovial voice behind him said: “Well, ambassador, I see you got here.”
“Well, Ambassador, I see you got here.”
Freddy turned. A stout man with a large cigar was smiling down at him. He was holding the cigar in his fingers, but as he saw Freddy’s face the smile vanished, the half-shut eyes popped wide open, and as he continued to stare he slowly raised his hand and deliberately put the lighted end of the cigar in his mouth. There was a gasp and a splutter, and he turned and elbowed his way frantically from the room.
Freddy was still looking after him when Mrs. Church came up. “Well, Freddy, I’m glad you got here. But what have you been doing to Mr. Pontoon?”
“Mr. Pontoon?”
“He’s the groom’s father. He just left you in such a hurry—”
“Oh, that big man!” Freddy said, and explained.
Mrs. Church laughed and laughed. “I didn’t tell him about you,” she said, “and of course he took you for Ambassador Dunkle—you’ve much the same figure from the rear—and when he saw you were a pig.… Well, I must find him and explain.”
Freddy looked up at Mr. Pomeroy, who was sitting on Mrs. Church’s head, his beak over her left eye, his wings spread. The robin winked at him, but didn’t move. Of course he didn’t have his glasses on.
Freddy said: “I must compliment you, ma’am, upon a very handsome hat.”
“I may tell you that half the women in this room are green with envy,” Mrs. Church said. “But I leave it to you what color they’ll be when they find out he’s alive.”
She laughed and went on, but presently came back with Mr. Pontoon, to whom she introduced Freddy.
“Well, sir,” Mr. Pontoon said, “you gave me quite a shock. The ambassador had promised me that he would come, and—” He broke off. “Why, there he is now,” he said, looking over Freddy’s head towards the door. “Just wait here, will you? You must meet him.” And he brought the newcomer over.
Ambassador Dunkle was small and chubby, he had on a black coat and striped trousers with a red necktie, and he did look a lot like Freddy, only his clothes were newer. And his face of course was different. He noticed the likeness even before Mr. Pontoon spoke of it, and they laughed together over it. He and Freddy had a very pleasant talk.
One end of the drawing room was banked with flowers, and in the center of that wall was a large shield on which was painted the Church coat of arms. But above, where the bird that Freddy had called a popinjay should have been, there was just an empty space. The ceremony took place in front of this shield. Mrs. Church blew a whistle, and all the guests took their places, and the ceremony was performed. And when the minister had pronounced the couple man and wife, J. J. Popinjay flew up and perched on the shield and began to sing. I have called him Popinjay instead of Pomeroy, because that was now his name. The day before he had flown down to Centerboro and seen Judge Arnett and had his name changed by law. So now he really was J. J. Popinjay, and his wife was Mrs. Popinjay, and his children were little Popinjays, and anybody that called him Pomeroy any more was against the law.
Well of course, whatever he called himself, J. J. was a robin, and he was singing the only song a robin can sing, which all of the guests had heard thousands of times. But because he was all dressed up in a lot of elegant and fancy feathers, they expected to hear an elegant and fancy song; and because they expected to hear it, they did hear it. It was certainly true, Freddy thought, that fine feathers make fine birds. Why he himself had been taken for an ambassador, just because of his fine clothes.
After the ceremony everybody went out into the garden where long tables were set for the wedding breakfast. Freddy didn’t look so much like an ambassador out of doors, because the bright sunshine showed up all his unskilful mending and the spots he hadn’t quite got out. But he stayed in the shade as much as possible, and I guess he ate as much as anybody. Afterwards he had Hank take him down to Mr. Dimsey’s, where he started to write an account of the wedding for The Bean Home News.
“Yesterday,” Freddy wrote, “at the residence of her aunt, Mrs. Winfield Church, one of Centerboro’s fairest daughters was led to the hymeneal altar by Mr. Elmer G. Pontoon of Albany. The lovely bride was accompanied by her sister, Miss Jerusha Awfly, also of this place, and the happy groom was supported by Mr. J. F. Drear of Watertown. Evidences of the high esteem on the part of friends were seen in the many elegant presents, among them a silver tea service from Mrs. Church, and a handsome floral wreath from the animals of the Bean Farm. After the ceremony a sumptuous collation was served, and a fine time was enjoyed by all. Among those present were Ambassador Dunkle, Mr. George Pontoon, father of the groom, Miss Harriet Peebles, Frederick Bean, Esq., and others.”
He was chewing his pencil and wondering how to describe the bride’s dress when there was a twittering outside the window. He opened it, and the swallow he had sent to find Peter flew in.
“Well, did you see Peter?” Freddy asked.
“Oh, Freddy, such a trip as I’ve had—such a trip!” said the swallow. “Asking directions, and being sent to the wrong places, and then asking again, and—”
“But did you find him?” Freddy interrupted.
“Let me get my breath, can’t you?” demanded the swallow crossly.
“O.K., O.K.,” said Freddy. “Perhaps you’d better go home and rest for an hour or two before you tell me. I’ll see you later.”
But this wasn’t what the swallow wanted at all. He came very quickly to the point. He had found Peter, who was spending a few weeks with his brother Joseph, up in Herkimer County. Joseph had a large comfortable den on the side of a wooded hill where he lived with his wife and two children. They lived very quietly and didn’t go out much. Joseph was very anxious for his children to get a good education, and as there wasn’t a school handy he had started teaching them himself.
“I know all this,” Freddy said. “Peter has told me all about Joseph’s school, and how a lot of the rabbits and squirrels got him to take their children too, so that he has now quite a big school. It’s very interesting, but what has it got to do with this wildcat?”
“I’m coming to that, if you’ll give me a chance,” said the swallow. “The trouble all started at the school.” And he went on to say that some wildcats, who lived on the other side of the hill, asked Joseph to take their children too. Joseph hadn’t wanted to at first, for these cats were really wild—they hadn’t even any names. But at last he agreed. Everything went well at first. The little wildcats were well behaved and did their homework, and even helped some of the smaller animals with theirs, which is rather unusual in wildcats. And then one morning, when Joseph’s pupils came back from playing hide and seek during recess, two rabbits were missing.
Well, Joseph didn’t know what to think. He was sure the rabbits wouldn’t just have run off home, because they liked s
chool. The last anybody had seen of them, they had gone off to hide with one of the little wildcats, but the wildcat said he didn’t know what had become of them: he had climbed a tree to hide, and they had gone on out of sight. Joseph just went on with the regular lessons. Even when lunch time came, and the wildcats didn’t seem to have much appetite, he didn’t say anything. But when during the afternoon recess two more rabbits disappeared, he decided he would have to do something about it. So he kept the wildcats after school and questioned them.
Well, it just shows you how wild they were that they didn’t even bother to deny that they had eaten the rabbits. “Sure,” they said; “we ate them. They were good, too.” Joseph tried to show them that it wasn’t the thing to do, to eat your schoolmates, and he explained to them how inconsiderate they had been. But they just said: “Well, we were hungry, and it was a long time until lunch. Goodness’ sake, why all the fuss about a few rabbits?”
So Joseph gave them a good whaling and sent them home and told them they couldn’t come to his school any more.
But the next day the wildcat parents came to see him. They were polite at first, but when Joseph was firm in his refusal to take their children back, they flew into a rage. A wildcat is no match for a bear, so they didn’t pitch into him, but they said some pretty mean things. After this there was a feud between the two families, and Joseph would never let the children go out into the woods unless he or his wife went with them, for he knew from certain signs that the wildcats were just lying in wait in the hope of picking a few of them off. But they picked them off anyway. He had to give up teaching, because nearly every day one of his pupils would disappear and never be heard of again, and of course this was not good for the reputation of the school. The parents were quite upset about it, and it was at a last stormy meeting of the Parent Teachers Association that he finally handed in his resignation.
Freddy and the Popinjay Page 9
