Mr. Huddle scratched his chin. “How did you get rid of the other ring?” he asked.
“When I put my left hand under the bandanna handkerchief,” Tom said, “I palmed the other ring. And when I drew my hands and the bandanna away from the steel bar, I laid the bandanna on the box table. Then I used my handkerchief to wipe sweat from my forehead and put the other ring in my pocket.” ‘
I had a question to ask. “How did you make the ring spin on the steel bar?”
“By jerking the bandanna handkerchief away quickly,” Tom answered.
Mr. Huddle shook his head. “You had me-completely buffaloed on that one, Tom,” he said. “Thanks for showing me how it was done. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep nights trying to figure it out.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Tom said. “In my next magic show I’m going to saw J.D. in half.”
“Oh, no, you aren’t,” Papa said. “We will leave the saw-
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ing of people in halt to the professional magicians-I don’t want you practicing any dangerous tricks with your brother. And just to make sure you don’t, I think you should leave well enough alone and forget about any more magic shows. We will all keep your confidence and not reveal how you did the magic tricks today. But this is the end of your career as a magician. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Papa,” Tom said,
I didn’t blame Tom for looking plumb disgusted as Papa, Mr. Smith, Mr. Huddle, and Uncle Mark left the barn.
“Papa is such a worry wart at times,” he said. “I saw Murdock the Magician saw a woman in half. It is Just an illusion and it tells how to do it in my magic book.”
“Put me down as a worry wart too,” I said. “The day I let you practice sawing me in half I’ll have onions growing’ out of my head instead of hair.”
“But I .told you it is just an illusion,” Tom said.
“I don’t care what you call it,” I said. .”I’m not a fellow who is going to take a chance of having his hips and legs running around this barn looking for the rest of his body because the trick doesn’t work.”
Frankie began laughing. “That would be lunny,” he said.
“You call that funny?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Frankie said. Then he bent over and began running around inside the barn yelling, “Where’s the rest of my body?”
That made Tom and me both laugh.
The fellows began pestering Turn so much wanting to know how he did the magic tricks, he had to tell them a lie to stop it. He said Murdock the Magician had taught him magic and he had promised never to reveal how it is done.
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CHAPTER SIX
Puppy Love
REPORT CARDS CAME OUT once a month. We received our first, for the month of September, a few days after Tom had put on his magic show. As expected. The Great Brain got all A’s. I got one A and only one C and the rest were Ł’s, which was darn good for a fellow with a little bra-in. Frankie got good marks in everything.
The day after we received our report cards Tom, Frankie, and I did our homework on the dining room table. Then we went into the parlor. Papa looked up from the weekly mail edition of the New York World he was reading. “How is your teacher coming along, T.D.?” he asked. “Mr. Monroe is doing just fine.” Tom said- “Since he
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got over his nervousness those first few days, he is a good
teacher.”
“Nels Larson doesn’t think so,” Papa said. “Knowing 1 am on the board of directors for the Academy, he dropped in at the Advocate office today. He told me he was very disappointed that his son Greg got such low marks on his report card. Greg attended a Mormon boarding school in Provo last year for the seventh grade. His grades were excellent. Mr. Larson said his son blamed the poor marks he got at the Academy this first month on Mr. Monroe’s being a poor
teacher.”
“That is a big fib,” Tom said. “Sally Aune Carver is
responsible for Greg’s poor grades.”
Mamma dropped her crocheting into her lap. “What has Sally Anne Carver got to do with Greg Larson’s poor grades?” she asked.
“He doesn’t pay attention in class,” Tom said. “All he does is sit and stare at Sally Anne. She has got poor Greg completely hypnotized with her giggling.”
“Surely,” Mamma said, “Mr. Monroe doesn’t permit giggi ing in school.”
“Of course not,” Tom said. “But every time Greg goes by her home she runs to the front gate and swings on it and giggles. And she giggles at him during recess and every time she sees him. My great brain figured out a long time ago that giggling is how a girl puts a spell on a fellow.”
I don’t know why, but that made Mamma, Papa, and Aunt Bertha laugh. Every rime a girl looked at me and started giggling I stuck my fingers in my ears.
“It isn’t funny,” Tom said. “Greg wants to be a railroad stationmaster like his father. But if he fails in school he won’t be able to go away to high school next year. Next
thing you know poor old Greg will be so hynotized he’ll be going over to sit on the front porch swing with Sally Anne.”
“You are right,” Papa said. “Puppy love isn’t funny. It can be a very serious thing in a boy’s or girl’s life. I remember my first case of puppy love when I was about Greg’s age. Her name was Agnes Murphy.”
Mamma stared at Papa. “And just who was Agnes Mur-phy?” she asked, rather sharply I thought.
“I was only fourteen at the time,” Papa protested.
“Answer the question,” Mamma said.
“I thought she was the prettiest girl in Boylestown, Pennsylvania,” Papa said smiling. “I do believe you are jealous, Tena.”
“I’m jealous of every girl you ever knew,” Mamma said, but she was smiling when she said it.
Tom folded his arms on his chest. “How do you break a spell a girl puts on a boy with her giggling?” he asked.
I was dumbfounded. It was one of the very few times I’d ever heard Tom admit that his great brain didn’t know everything.
“Puppy love is just something you outgrow,” Papa said. “Well, Greg better outgrow it pretty darn soon.” Tom said, “or he is going to fail in school. I guess I’ll have to put my great brain to work on how to break the spell before that happens. I like Greg.”
One thing I could never figure out was what girls were good for. Today boys and girls play together, and girls play all the games boys do. But back in those days things were different. It was a disgrace for a boy to have anything to do with a girl until he was sixteen or he was called a sissy. And girls didn’t play any of the games boys did like baseball, football, leapfrog, or kick-the-can. All they did was play hop-102
scotch and jacks, play house, play with dolls, skip rope, and things like that.
Sweyn had disgraced Tom, Frankie, and me by starting to go with Marie Vinson after his first year at the Jesuit Academy when he was only thirteen. He had to whip three boys for calling him a sissy. Nobody called him a sissy after that, but that didn’t stop the shame and disgrace I felt. The only time us boys had anything to do with girls was at birth-day parties. We had to go to theirs and invite them to ours because our parents made us.
What Greg saw in Sally Anne Carver was a mystery to me. She was just a girl. Being a fellow who prided himself on never having anything to do with girls I didn’t know if she was pretty or not. I’ll admit she wasn’t knock-kneed, bow-legged, or pigeon-toed, which I guess was in her favor. But she was just a silly girl like all the rest. I felt sorry for Mr. Carver because he had three daughters and no sons. With nothing but females running around the house Mr. Carver would have been driven to drink if he weren’t a Mormon. Their religion forbids them to drink any kind of alcoholic
beverage.
And I couldn’t figure out why any girl would want to put a spell on a fellow like Greg. He had buckteeth that hung over his lower lip. His blond hair grew forward instead of backward, coming down over his eyes like a shee
p dog’s. Poor old Greg. Only Tom’s great brain could save him from
a fate worse than drink or death.
The following Saturday morning I started for Smith’s vacant lot with Tom and Frankie to play. The Carver home was on Main Street just two blocks from our house. When we arrived at the corner we all stopped and stood staring bug-eyed. Greg was showing off on his bike in front of the
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Carver home. Sally Anne was swinging on the front gate watching him and giggling. Greg rode by the house without using the handlebars on the bike.
Tom motioned for me and Frankie to follow him down a side street. “My great brain has a plan to save Greg,” he said. “Come on.”
We ran all the way to Smith’s vacant lot where Tom gathered the fellows around him.
“Sally Anne has got poor old Greg completely hypnotized,” Tom told the fellows. “She’s got him so much under her spell that he is failing in school. It is up to us to save him.”
Danny’s left eye lid flipped open. “And how do we do that?” he asked.
“My great brain has figured out a way to break the spell,” Tom said. “Greg is showing off on his bike in front of her house right now. We go there and when I give the signal we all run into the street and begin shouting, ‘Greg’s got a girl,’ over and over again. That should make him so ashamed and humiliated it will break the spell.”
We all followed Tom at a run to the side street leading off Main Street-Tom peeked around the corner.
“Greg is at the other end of the block turning around,” Tom said. “When he starts back and gets in front of Sally Anne’s house we will all run out and start shouting. Get ready. Here he comes. Now, fellows!”
Greg was riding his bike standing with one foot on the seat, his other leg stuck out behind him over the rear wheel, and his body bent over his hands on the handlebars as we ran into the street.
We all began to shout as we ran towards him, “Greg’s got a girl,” over and over again. He was so surprised that he fell
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off his bil^e-We formed a circle around him and continued to shout, “Greg’s got a girl!”
He was so ashamed and humiliated his face was the color of red-hot coals. You would think a girl with any pity would have run into the house. But not Sally Anne. She just stood by the’front gate giggling as if she enjoyed Greg’s humiliation. I thought for sure Greg would pick up his bike and get as far away from Sally Anne as possible. Instead he picked up the bike and wheeled it over and leaned it against the Carvers’ front fence. And I’ll be a six-legged mule if he didn’t walk up to Sally Anne and begin talking to her. We all stopped shouting and looked at Tom. Parley Benson pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
“Your great brain’s plan only made it worse,” he said. “She is keeping him under her spell with her giggling,”
Tom said.
Danny shook his head, “Then your great brain better figure out a way to stop Sally Anne from giggling,” he said.
And then came positive proof that a girl can hypnotize a fellow with her giggling. Sally Anne opened the gate. She put her hand in the crook of Greg’s elbow and the two of them began walking down Main Street bold as brass. We were all as surprised as a hen who hatches a turkey egg. Parley was first to speak.
“I wonder where they are going,” he said.
“Only one way to find out,” Tom said.
We followed Greg and Sally Anne to the drugstore where we pressed our faces against the window to watch. Sammy Leeds was working behind the soda fountain. He stared at Greg and Sally Anne as if they we’re two dogs who had sat down at the counter and asked to be served. He kept blinking his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing
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as he prepared two chocolate ice cream sodas and placed them on the counter.
Parley shook his head. “He’s a gonner for sure,” he said.
Did Tom give up? Heck, no.
“Maybe my great brain can save him yet,” he said.
Danny rammed a finger into Tom’s chest. “Your great brain has made the spell ten times worse,” he said. “When a boy starts buying ice cream sodas for a girl there ain’t anything that can break the spell.”
We waited until Greg and Sally Anne came out of the drugstore. We followed them to the Carver home. Greg said good-bye to Sally Anne. Then he got on his bike and rode to Smith’s vacant lot with us running to keep up with him. He got off his bike and drew a line in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. He spit on the palms of his hands and then doubled up both fists.
“All right,” he said. “Who’s first?”
Tom put his arm around Greg’s shoulders. “Nobody is going to call you a sissy,” he said sympathetically. “We know it isn’t your fault that Sally Anne has you hypnotized with her giggling. We were just trying to break the spell.”
“Maybe she has got me under her spell,” Greg said, “but I like it. I asked her to be my girl and she said she would. You fellows don’t know what you’re missing.”
Parley spat with disgust. “Missing what?” he asked. “You can’t play boys’ games with girls. You can’t go fishing and hunting with them. All you can do is spend money buying them ice cream sodas and candy. What’s the good of having a girl?”
“It is hard to explain,” Greg said. “I felt the same way you fellows do until I started having daydreams about Sally Anne.”
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“Boy!” Tom exclaimed- “She’s really got you hypnotized. What kind of daydreams?”
“Like rescuing her from renegade Indians who were going to burn her at the stake,” Greg said with a dopey, dreamy look on his face. “Like saving her from the railroad tracks where the villian had tied her just in the nick of time before the train came. Like saving her from having to marry the villain by paying off the mortgage.”
Parley shook his head. “You’ve gone plumb loco,” he said.
Greg became angry. “Do you want to back up those words with your fists?” he demanded.
“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Parley said. “But I don’t fight fellows who are plumb loco. I’ll leave it up to the fellows. All of you who think Greg is nutty as a fruitcake hold up your hands.”
We all held up our hands except Tom.
“What more proof do you want?” Parley .asked.
“I don’t care what you fellows think,” Greg said. “Some day you will look at a girl and what happened to me will happen to you.”
He walked over and picked up his bike.
“Just a minute,” Tom said. “My great brain has figured out that girls put a spell on fellows with their giggling. Will you try an experiment and stuff cotton in your ears when you’re near Sally Anne so you can’t hear her giggling?”
“I will not,” Greg said. “And what’s more I’m calling on Sally Anne tomorrow night to sit on the front porch sying with her.”
We all crowded around Tom after Greg left. Danny was the first to speak.
“I guess you haven’t got such a great brain after all,” he
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said. “It only made things worse. Why didn’t you use your fists instead of your brain? Why didn’t you call Greg a sissy and fight him? You know darn well you can whip him. And maybe if you beat him up good it would have knocked some sense into him and broken the spell.”
“I thought about it,” Tom said. “But I didn’t want to fight him for the same reason Parley didn’t. Well, not exactly. Greg isn’t insane. But he is bewitched, which is just as bad.”
“Well,” Danny said, “you had better put your great brain to work on how to save Greg. Tomorrow night he will be sitting on the front porch swing with Sally Anne. At the rate he is going he’ll be married and have kids before he is old enough to shave.”
Parley had a puzzled look on his face. “What do a boy and girl do when they sit on a front porch swing?” he asked.
“How should I know?” Tom asked.
“I thought your great brain knew everything
,” Parley said. “And besides I saw your brother Sweyn sitting on the front porch swing with Marie Vinson before he went away to school.”
“I never asked Sweyn what he did,” Tom said. “But you’ve given me an idea. I’ll find out tomorrow night what Greg and Sally Anne do sitting on a front porch swing. Maybe that will give me a clue on how to break the spell.”
Frankie and I had to go to bed at eight o’clock. Tom was twelve and allowed to stay up until nine o’clock. But Sunday evening he told Papa and Mamma he felt tired and went upstairs with Frankie and me.
“What’s the idea?” I asked him as we entered our bedroom.
“Forget already?” Tom asked.
“Forget what?” I asked.
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“Yeah, what?” Frankie said.
“I promised the fellows I’d find out what Greg and Sally Anne did on a front porch swing,” Tom said.
I watched him take the screen off our bedroom win-dow. “I’m going too,” I said.
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Maybe you’ll need a witness,” I said.
“All right,” Tom said. “Frankie, you go to bed. If it isn’t too awful for a boy your age to hear we will tell you about it when we get back.”
Tom and I climbed down the elm tree by our bedroom window. Our dogs Brownie and Prince came running to greet us. We locked them up in the barn so they couldn’t follow us. We went down the alley until we were in back of the Carver home. They didn’t have a dog so it was safe to enter the backyard. We walked around to the side of the house the porch swing was on. Then we got down on our hands and knees and crawled to the side of-the porch which was about two feet off the ground. I could hear the porch swing creaking. Tom lifted up his head to take a look and so did I. Greg was sitting on one end of the porch swing and Sally Anne at the other end-1 admit that I didn’t know what a boy and girl did on a front porch swing, but I’d always imagined they did mushy things like holding hands, hugging, squeezing, and even kissing. But Greg and Sally Anne sure as heck couldn’t do any of these things sitting three feet apart. All I heard for a long time was the creaking of the swing-I began to wonder if boys and girls just sat on porch swings without talking to each other. Finally Sally Anne spoke.
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