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Authors: John D. Fitzgerald
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that would be lying. And lying is worse than fighting.”
Papa was a smart man. He took out his purse and looked at Tom. “How much, T.D.?” he asked. “How about half a dollar to go on tutoring Dotty from now until school lets out?”
“Better make it a dollar,” Tom said. “Some of the kids might think it’s worth more than half a dollar. But if I can show them a whole silver dollar, I’m sure they will understand.”
“All right, T.D.” Papa handed Tom a whole silver dollar. “But on one condition. I would prefer your mother didn’t know about this. She has never been a boy and might not understand.”
CHAPTER THREE
The Time Papa Got Lost
WHEN SCHOOL STARTS, a fellow always feels as if the summer vacation will never come. He starts by counting the months until the Christmas holidays. Then he starts counting the weeks until May. Then he starts counting the days, and each day seems as long as those months before the Christmas holidays. But there is one good thing about the sun that parents and teachers can’t do a darn thing about. It comes up every morning, and it sets every night. Nobody can stop that wonderful last day of school from coming around at last.
Tom graduated from the sixth grade. I graduated from the fourth grade. I guess Mr. Standish thought he was the greatest teacher in the world when he announced that he would start Dotty in the third grade next fall. Mr. Standish had to teach all six grades, and I doubt if Dotty would ever have made it if it hadn’t been for Tom tutoring her. She learned more from Tom during a half hour in the evening than she learned in school all day. But Tom seemed satisfied to let the teacher take all the credit. He had his dollar.
Dotty had turned into a real girl, except when it came to riding Star. And she made friends with girls her age even though they weren’t in the same grade. I guess she made friends so easily because she was a sort of celebrity. She was the only girl in town who had whipped a boy bigger than her in a fair and square fight. The dresses Mamma made for Dotty made her one of the best-dressed girls in town. And she learned how to play jacks, hopscotch, jump the rope, and even to play with dolls.
Two days after our school let out, Sweyn came home from the Catholic Academy. I was never so disappointed in my life. He sure had changed since Christmas. He was wearing long trousers with the suit Mamma had sent him for Easter. And he started off by calling Papa, Dad, and Mamma, Mom. That was all right with me because it didn’t seem to bother our parents. But when he started calling Tom and me “Old Man” instead of by our initials, that was going too far.
Tom and I were trying to be nice to him on his first evening at home. “You can ride my bike whenever you want,” Tom said generously.
“Thanks, Old Man, but that’s kid stuff,” Sweyn said.
“Want to see my jumping frog?” I asked.
“Thanks, Old Man, but that’s kid stuff,” Sweyn said.
That got me. “I’m not an old man,” I said. “I’m just a kid.”
“It is an expression us city folks use,” Sweyn said with a laugh.
Papa, Mamma, and Aunt Bertha began to laugh too. I knew right then I’d have to put up with Sweyn calling me old man all summer.
This was bad enough, but the day after he got home, Sweyn pulled the dirtiest trick he could on Tom and me. He started going with a girl, and of all the girls he had to pick, it was that stuck-up Marie Vinson. If ever a fellow felt like disowning a brother, it was me. All I heard from my friends was, “Sweyn’s got a girl. Sweyn’s got a girl.” If Sweyn wanted to disgrace me and Tom, why couldn’t he have kicked a dog, or beat up an old lady, or something not as bad as going with a girl.
A few days after Sweyn had arrived, Papa told us we would leave on Monday for our annual camping trip. At least for a
Papa was a smart man. He took out his purse and looked at Tom. “How much, T.D.?” he asked. “How about half a dollar to go on tutoring Dotty from now until school lets out?”
“Better make it a dollar,” Tom said. “Some of the kids might think it’s worth more than half a dollar. But if I can show them a whole silver dollar, I’m sure they will understand.”
“All right, T.D.” Papa handed Tom a whole silver dollar. “But on one condition. I would prefer your mother didn’t know about this. She has never been a boy and might not understand.”
CHAPTER THREE
The Time Papa Got Lost
WHEN SCHOOL STARTS, a fellow always feels as if the summer vacation will never come. He starts by counting the months until the Christmas holidays. Then he starts counting the weeks until May. Then he starts counting the days, and each day seems as long as those months before the Christmas holidays. But there is one good thing about the sun that parents and teachers can’t do a darn thing about. It comes up every morning, and it sets every night. Nobody can stop that wonderful last day of school from coming around at last.
Tom graduated from the sixth grade. I graduated from the fourth grade. I guess Mr. Standish thought he was the greatest teacher in the world when he announced that he would start Dotty in the third grade next fall. Mr. Standish had to teach all six grades, and I doubt if Dotty would ever have made it if it hadn’t been for Tom tutoring her. She learned more from Tom during a half hour in the evening than she learned in school all day. But Tom seemed satisfied to let the teacher take all the credit. He had his dollar.
Dotty had turned into a real girl, except when it came to riding Star. And she made friends with girls her age even though they weren’t in the same grade. I guess she made friends so easily because she was a sort of celebrity. She was the only girl in town who had whipped a boy bigger than her in a fair and square fight. The dresses Mamma made for Dotty made her one of the best-dressed girls in town. And she learned how to play jacks, hopscotch, jump the rope, and even to play with dolls.
Two days after our school let out, Sweyn came home from the Catholic Academy. I was never so disappointed in my life. He sure had changed since Christmas. He was wearing long trousers with the suit Mamma had sent him for Easter. And he started off by calling Papa, Dad, and Mamma, Mom. That was all right with me because it didn’t seem to bother our parents. But when he started calling Tom and me “Old Man” instead of by our initials, that was going too far.
Tom and I were trying to be nice to him on his first evening at home. “You can ride my bike whenever you want,” Tom said generously.
“Thanks, Old Man, but that’s kid stuff,” Sweyn said.
“Want to see my jumping frog?” I asked.
“Thanks, Old Man, but that’s kid stuff,” Sweyn said.
That got me. “I’m not an old man,” I said. “I’m just a kid.”
“It is an expression us city folks use,” Sweyn said with a laugh.
Papa, Mamma, and Aunt Bertha began to laugh too. I knew right then I’d have to put up with Sweyn calling me old man all summer.
This was bad enough, but the day after he got home, Sweyn pulled the dirtiest trick he could on Tom and me. He started going with a girl, and of all the girls he had to pick, it was that stuck-up Marie Vinson. If ever a fellow felt like disowning a brother, it was me. All I heard from my friends was, “Sweyn’s got a girl. Sweyn’s got a girl.” If Sweyn wanted to disgrace me and Tom, why couldn’t he have kicked a dog, or beat up an old lady, or something not as bad as going with a girl.
A few days after Sweyn had arrived, Papa told us we would leave on Monday for our annual camping trip. At least for a
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