After twenty miles or so, however, Uncle Snedeker slowed down a little. “There,” he said, “I guess those animals won’t overtake us now.”
“No,” said Aunt Effie. “I guess not. You know, Snedeker, I’m kind of sorry to leave. It was a pleasant life on that farm. And a more mannerly set of animals I’ve never seen.”
“Eh, well,” said Uncle Snedeker, “you can’t have everything. And you would have that teapot, Effie. If it hadn’t been for that, I don’t say I wouldn’t have liked to stay a spell longer myself.”
“Yes,” said Aunt Effie. “Orenville’s going to seem sort of slow, I’m afraid. Without all those pleasant animals around.”
“Eh, well, you’ll have all your friends.”
“That’s true. But somehow, Snedeker, when you take them one by one—those friends of ours—well, I’d hate to think that I could prefer a pig to Mrs. Ocumpaugh, or an old horse to Cousin Henry Wells, but—” She broke off. “Well, anyway,” she said, “we’ve got the teapot.” And she turned around to give a triumphant look at the suitcases in the back seat. And suddenly gave a loud cry. For the suitcases weren’t there!
Uncle Snedeker put the brake on so hard that Aunt Effie’s nose was nearly flattened against the windshield. They both climbed out, and then they searched the car from bumper to bumper. But the suitcases were gone.
“Snedeker,” said Aunt Effie, “you ought to be drawn and quartered. You left them behind.”
“But I didn’t,” protested Uncle Snedeker. “I put ’em in—honest I did.”
“You couldn’t have. You left ’em on the barn floor. Well, there’s no use arguing. Get in. We must go back.”
So back they went. Most of the animals had gone off gloomily to bed by the time they drove into the barnyard, but Jinx was still wandering about, looking in the most unlikely places for the vanished Weedly. Freddy too was up. The failure of his plan had been a hard blow. He was a thoroughly desperate and discouraged pig, and how he was ever to face the Beans on their return in the morning he didn’t know. He was sitting disconsolately on the edge of the porch, wondering if it wouldn’t perhaps be better for him to disappear and never be seen again, when the Snedekers drove in.
The car went into the barn, and after watching for a few minutes while the Snedekers hunted for the suitcases, Jinx and Freddy went in.
“Something wrong, ma’am?” Freddy asked innocently.
“Go away, pig,” said Aunt Effie crossly. “A fine friend you are!”
“Why, I told you we’d do everything we could to keep you from getting the teapot,” said Freddy. “But you got it anyway. So we’re the ones that ought to be mad.”
“Got it, eh?” said Uncle Snedeker. “Yes, we did like fun!” Then he stopped suddenly. “Eh, Effie,” he said doubtfully, “maybe I hadn’t ought to have said anything.”
“It can’t do any harm to tell ’em,” said Aunt Effie. “I guess they know it. The suitcases aren’t here.” She turned to Freddy. “You animals better hand over those suitcases if you know what’s good for you,” she said threateningly.
“The suitcases!” said Freddy. “Why—we haven’t got the suitcases. What are you talking about?”
“We left them here, and they aren’t here now,” said Aunt Effie. “Come; hand ’em over.”
Freddy and Jinx looked at her in bewilderment. “Why, honestly, ma’am,” said Jinx, “we haven’t got them.”
Aunt Effie sat down on the running board of the car. “Freddy,” she said solemnly, “I’ve always thought you were a pretty honest pig. You tried to fool us into thinking you were a sick old lady, but I guess that was fair. Anyway, you’ve never told a lie to me. Are you telling the truth?”
“I suppose I ought to get mad at you, ma’am, for doubting my word,” said Freddy. “But if the suitcases are really gone—Well, now, if we did have them, we’d have taken the teapot out and hidden it in a safe place where you couldn’t find it, wouldn’t we?”
“I expect you would,” said Aunt Effie.
“And in that case, we wouldn’t need to lie to you, would we? We could just tell you so. There are hundreds of places on this farm where we could hide such a thing, and you’d never find it in the wide world. So why should you think we are lying to you now?”
“H’m,” said Aunt Effie. “Yes, that makes sense. I beg your pardon, Freddy. And yours, Jinx. But the fact is the suitcases are gone.” She got up suddenly. “Snedeker,” she said, “take a lantern and look down the road. Better take a club with you, for if you find ’em these animals will try to take them away from you.”
“We certainly will,” said Freddy.
“Good,” said Aunt Effie. “I like honesty, even in an enemy. I’ll go search the house. I don’t know what good it’ll do, but they must be somewhere.”
“Get the rest of the animals up, Jinx,” said Freddy when the Snedekers had started on their hunt. “We must hunt too. It beats me what can have happened to the suitcases, but we’ve as good a chance of finding them as the Snedekers, since nobody knows where they are. Anyway, it’s our only chance.”
So all night long the hunt went on, up and down the road and through house and barn. But when the sun finally came up and looked over the hill at them, the suitcases were still missing. And so, too, was Little Weedly.
After breakfast the Snedekers gave up the search for a while. They had been up all night, and they lay down to take a nap. The Beans were due on the nine o’clock train, and at eight the animals helped Hank to get hitched up to the phaeton and he drove off to Centerboro to meet them. After some hesitation, Freddy went along, to explain to them before they got home how matters stood at the farm.
At eight the animals helped Hank to get hitched.
Just before ten o’clock the animals began to gather at the gate to welcome the returning travelers. Pretty soon they heard in the distance the clop-clop of Hank’s hoofs, and then up the road came the phaeton. The animals set up a cheer as it drew up at the gate. Then out they got—Mrs. Bean in a new Paris hat, and the two adopted boys, Byram and Adoniram, and last, Mr. Bean, looking very spruce and foreign in a new cutaway coat and striped trousers.
Mrs. Bean rushed about hugging one animal after another. “My land,” she said, “it’s good to be back!” Mr. Bean just stood still and puffed on his pipe until the sparks flew and his head was almost invisible through the smoke. You could see that he was almost bursting with pride and happiness. “Bon jour, animals. Bon jour,” he kept saying. “That’s French for ‘howdedo’,” he explained.
“Mr. Bean’s got quite Frenchified during his stay in Paris,” said Mrs. Bean. “But never mind that now. There’s one thing I want to say to you animals. Freddy has been telling me about the goings-on while we’ve been away, and I want to say right now: don’t you worry one mite about that old teapot. If it’s gone it’s gone, and that’s the end of it, and we don’t care one bit—not one particle. Do we, Mr. B?”
“Glad to get rid of it,” said Mr. Bean. “Oui, oui.”
“And,” went on Mrs. Bean, “we think you animals have been just wonderful, and we’ve got presents for every one of you, and as soon as we get our things unpacked—Oh,” she said suddenly, “there’s your aunt, Mr. B.” For the Snedekers had come out on the porch.
Mr. Bean went toward his aunt. “Bon jour, Aunt Effie,” he said.
“Good morning, William,” said Aunt Effie. She faced him with stiff dignity. “I don’t know as you’ll want to shake hands with me when you’ve heard just why we’re here.”
“Heard all about it,” said Mr. Bean gruffly. “Tried to get the teapot again. But tryin’ and doin’s two different things.” He held out his hand, and as Aunt Effie slowly put hers into it, he bent and kissed it. “Enchanté, madame,” he said. “That means,” he said, “I’m glad to see you. Got anything to eat in the house?”
But Aunt Effie was staring at him in complete amazement. “William Bean,” she said, “maybe you’re a-laughing behind those whiskers. Nobody’l
l ever know. But laughing or not, I’ll tell you I never in all my life expected to see the time when anybody’d kiss my hand with such real fine foreign manners, and if I’d hunted from now till Doomsday I’d never have picked anybody more unlikely to do it than you.”
“Sorry you don’t like it, Aunt Effie,” said Mrs. Bean. “Mr. B. was so impressed with the manners of those French people that he tries ’em out every now and then. Just in the family, of course.”
“Don’t like it!” said Aunt Effie. “Of course I like it. I just didn’t think he had it in him, that’s all. Snedeker!” she said suddenly. “Let’s see you try it.” And she held out her hand.
Uncle Snedeker blushed. “Aw, Effie,” he said protestingly.
“Come on,” said Aunt Effie firmly. “You aren’t going to be outdone—My land!” she said in a horrified whisper. “Look!”
Through the gate limped little Weedly. He was covered with dirt and scratches, but in his mouth he carried the silver teapot.
The animals, who had already been amazed by the unexpected courtliness of Mr. Bean’s imported manners, were now completely stupefied. They crowded round as Weedly walked slowly up and put the teapot down in front of Mrs. Bean.
“Weedly!” exclaimed Jinx. “Where did you get it?” He turned to Mrs. Bean. “This is Freddy’s cousin, Weedly, Mrs. Bean,” he said. “He’s my adopted nephew.”
“How do you do, Weedly,” said Mrs. Bean. “My land, where did you find the teapot?”
“Well, ma’am,” said Weedly, “you see, when Freddy was pretending to be a sick old lady, the Snedekers got out of their car. We were supposed to wait until they carried Freddy into the house, but I guess I got a little impatient, and maybe I hadn’t ought to have done it, but I climbed right in to get the suitcases. And then they saw it was Freddy and jumped in the car and drove off. So I just sort of scrooched down in the back seat, and after they’d gone a mile or two and weren’t looking back any more, I threw the suitcases out and jumped after them.”
“Good piece of work,” grumbled Mr. Bean, and that from him was a pretty fine compliment, for he wasn’t one to praise people much to their faces.
“Well,” said Weedly, “I guess it was lucky it was an open car. Anyway, I opened the suitcases and found the teapot, and I’d been back before with it, only when I jumped, I twisted my ankle, and I couldn’t walk very fast.”
“Land sakes,” said Mrs. Bean, kneeling down beside him. “Let me see it. You come right in the house and let me bandage it up, and get you something good to eat. My, you’re a brave pig.”
“He’s my nephew,” said Jinx proudly.
“Just a minute,” said Aunt Effie. She stood very stiff and straight and looked sternly at Weedly. “Kindly bring that teapot to me.”
Weedly looked doubtfully at Mrs. Bean, but she nodded assent, and he picked up the teapot and put it in Aunt Effie’s hand.
Aunt Effie looked at it for a moment, then she said: “William, I came here to get this teapot, because I have a right to it. No,” she went on quickly, as he began puffing furiously at his pipe, preparatory to bursting into speech, “you needn’t turn yourself into a volcano. You can blow your head off, but I’m going to say my say. Well, I’ve got the teapot. But while I’ve been here, I’ve learned some things. I’ve learned to admire these animals for their fine manners, and to respect them for their bravery. They’ve fought me hard and honestly, and at the same time we’ve been friends. I think I’m right in saying that, Freddy?”
“You are, ma’am,” said the pig.
“Well, I’d like to stay friends. I’d rather have friends than a silver teapot. Here,” she said, suddenly thrusting it towards Mrs. Bean. “It’s yours. Keep it.”
“Three cheers for Aunt Effie!” shouted Robert. But while the animals were cheering, Mr. Bean turned and went to the phaeton and dragged out a square box. He hastily unwrapped and opened it, and took out another silver teapot of about the same size, but with a different design.
“See here,” he said. “I got this teapot in London for Mrs. Bean. Took her fancy in a store window, so I bought it. Man said it belonged to Queen Elizabeth. That ain’t likely, but it’s right pretty anyhow. Well, we ain’t any use for two teapots, have we, Mrs. B.?”
“Good grief, I should say not!” said Mrs. Bean, smiling. “One of ’em’s enough to keep polished and bright.”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Bean, “give Aunt Effie her old teapot, and for land’s sake let’s go in the house and unpack the presents for the animals.”
Usually when Mr. Bean said to do something, everybody did it at once. But this time nobody moved. For all of them—animals and humans—were looking at Aunt Effie. Even Uncle Snedeker was staring, and under his breath he said: “Well, set fire to my coat tails!” And well he might exclaim, for two large tears were rolling down over Aunt Effie’s cheeks.
Suddenly she caught Uncle Snedeker by the hand. “Come,” she said sharply. “We can’t stand here all day. We must get back home.” And she started to drag him out to their car.
But Mrs. Bean nudged Mr. Bean, and he got quickly in front of Aunt Effie and bowed very low. “Madam,” he said, “we beg you to accept our hospitality for as long as you care to stay.” Then as Aunt Effie hesitated, he dropped on one knee. “S’il-vous-plait,” he said in French, and kissed her hand.
And Aunt Effie burst into a loud laugh and kissed him on the cheek, and they all went into the house, Mr. Bean carrying Weedly in his arms.
“So that was really Queen Elizabeth’s teapot,” said Mrs. Wiggins.
“And if you were really Queen Elizabeth,” said Freddy, “you’d have drunk your tea out of it.”
“But I wouldn’t be here now,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I’d rather be a cow. Oh, dear,” she said, “Every time I get a little excited the rhyming comes on again. I guess I’d better go lie down.” And she walked slowly off towards the cowbarn. But the other animals sat down in a ring around the back door to wait for their presents.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1940 by Walter R. Brooks
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9215-2
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Walter R. Brooks, Freddy’s Cousin Weedly
Freddy’s Cousin Weedly Page 14
