Freddy the Pied Piper (11 page)

“
Some people think pigs should feel pain

Because they're so awfully plain
,

But they don't, and the reason

Is easy to seize on:

Being handsome's a terrible strain.

If you're handsome, you're always obsessed

With a doubt you're not looking your best
,

And then you get worried

And hurried and flurried

And spill things all over your vest.

Whereas, if you're homely as sin
,

You just have to bear it and grin
,

For no perseverance

Will improve your appearance;

You're beaten before you begin.

It is no use to sit down and squall

If you can't be the belle of the ball;

If you're cross-eyed and fat

You just say: ‘That's that!'

And you don't have to worry at all.

Now the pig, as I previously said
,

About looks never worries his head.

The pig has no passion

For being in fashion

And painting his fingernails red.

And that is why pigs are so gay
,

Always laughing and shouting Hooray!

Their looks they ignore;

They don't care any more;

And they sing and rejoice all the day.
”

When he had finished writing this, Freddy got up and looked at himself in one of the big mirrors. He frowned, he turned his head from side to side, and then he smiled and examined his teeth. And then he opened his eyes wide and looked interested.

“H'm,” he said. “Ha! Not bad!

“Lions!” he said. “Pooh!”

And then he went back and tore the poem he had just written into little pieces and dropped them in the wastebasket. That is why you will look in vain for this poem in The Complete Poetical Works of F. Bean.

Chapter 9

Freddy's anti-mouse advertisement in the paper had immediate results. The first day after the paper came out he had twenty-eight requests for his services in the mail. He borrowed Hank and the cutter again and drove the thirteen cats into town. Jinx refused to go with him.

“I don't approve of this business, Freddy,” he said. “If it was rats we were going after it would be different. I wouldn't mind taking a hand and knocking over a rat or two myself. But I've got too many mouse friends to feel right about chasing these mice out into the snow.”

“They're just a lot of gangsters,” said Freddy. “Destroying property and chewing holes in people's Sunday suits.”

“That may be so,” said Jinx, “but there ought to be some way of getting rid of them without declaring war on them.”

“All right, you think of a way,” said Freddy. “In the meantime, I'm going ahead. We've got to raise that money for Mr. Boomschmidt, Jinx.”

Freddy knew that if you've got something to sell, you've got to be as conspicuous as possible. He had printed a sign on cardboard and fastened it to a stick. It read:

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

DO YOU KNOW WHY?

Because FREDDY, the POPULAR DEMOUSER had been called in the day before.

He left Hank and the cutter at the edge of town, and then he and the cats marched up Main Street to the bank. Freddy came first, carrying the sign. Behind him was the big grey cat, whom he had appointed foreman, carrying a smaller sign, which read:

LET US TAKE THE SQUEAKS OUT OF YOUR PANTRY

Then, in single file, followed the twelve other cats. There had been no time to provide uniforms for them, as Freddy would have liked to do, but each one had a blue ribbon around his neck, and from the ribbon hung a pasteboard key tag on which Freddy had drawn the trademark he had thought up: a mouse, running away. And the last cat carried another sign:

You Can Have a Mouseless House, Too

Only $5

The people lined up on the sidewalks and laughed and cheered as the little parade went by, and several people rushed out with five dollar bills in their hands and Freddy put their names down in a little book. Then he marched the cats into the bank, and down into the vault.

There was a few minutes of squeaking and scampering downstairs, then the cats marched up and the foreman saluted and reported the bank clear of mice. Freddy left one cat on guard, and led his crew up Main Street. Nearly every house on upper Main had requested the de-mousing service, and he divided his crew into squads of three and sent them into the different houses. By noon he had de-moused twenty-two homes, two groceries, and a barber shop, and had earned, as closely as he could figure it, somewhere around a hundred and twenty dollars.

When the noon whistles blew, he and the cats went into Dixon's Diner and had a good nourishing lunch of hamburgers and milk, and then they went to work again. At five they knocked off for the day and Freddy counted up his money. He had earned $291. Where that extra dollar came from neither he nor anyone else ever figured out.

He and the cats went into Dixon's Diner and had a good nourishing lunch.

Of course with only thirteen cats it was impossible to leave one on guard in each house to prevent the mice from coming back. But Freddy had thought of that. He had given three of the cats armbands, on which were inked the letters: M.P. (for Mouse Police), and these M.P.'s were to patrol the neighborhood during the night. When he had given them their orders, he met Hank, who had been waiting for him at the livery stable, and drove back home.

Freddy was pretty pleased. At this rate, he'd soon have as much money as he needed. The cats were staying in Jinx's studio, and when he had left them he went over to the cow barn. He could hear several animals talking as he came up to the door, but the talk stopped as soon as he went in. The three cows were there, and Robert, the collie, and the four mice—Eek and Quik and Eeeny and Cousin Augustus. The cows and the dog nodded to him, but the four mice turned their backs.

Freddy frowned and looked from one to the other of his friends, and then he looked at the four small grey backs. He thought they looked very stiff and indifferent. Then he said: “Am I intruding? If I've interrupted a private conversation—”

“You're very kind and polite, aren't you?” said Eek sarcastically, without turning round. “We're not speaking to you!” Eeny snapped.

Freddy tried to pass it off as a joke. “You're not?” he said. “But you just did.”

“Don't say anything more to him, Eeny,” said Quik.

“But if you won't say anything to me,” said Freddy, “how can I find out what is the matter?”

“Will you kindly tell your friend,” said Eeny, addressing Mrs. Wiggins, “that he knows perfectly well what is the matter.”

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Wiggins, and turning to Freddy: “The mice feel that you know perfectly well what is the matter.”

“Oh well, yes,” said Freddy; “I do, I suppose. I mean, it's because I've gone into the anti-mouse business, isn't it? But my goodness, these mice in Centerboro aren't like you boys. They used to be pretty well behaved. They stuck to crumbs and no squeaking after ten
P.M.
and no chewing the furniture and so on. But this last year they've just sort of gone wild. There's always room for a few well-behaved mice in a house. But now there's hardly room in the houses for the people that own them.”

“Aw, Mrs. Wiggins,” said Eeny, “tell your friend that that's all a lot of baloney. Those poor Centerboro people,” he said sarcastically; “my heart bleeds for them! Being pushed around and crowded out of their homes by a lot of ferocious mice! But of course we know why he's doing it. It's the money. Anything for a few dollars. Friendship, honesty, decency—nothing means anything except piling up some more dirty money!”

“Oh, baloney yourself!” said Freddy crossly. “Sure I want the money. And you know why. You know the trouble Mr. Boomschmidt is in.”

“And how about the trouble our Aunt Sophie is in?” demanded Quik. “Ask him about that, Mrs. Wiggins. She's lived in Centerboro all her life, at Miss Halsey's. Always been a quiet, unassuming little body and never did any harm to anybody. Sends us cards every Christmas and on our birthdays, as regular as clockwork. And now in her old age I suppose she's to be driven out into the snow to starve.”

“It's a conspiracy, that's what it is!” Cousin Augustus shouted. “Why doesn't this big bully pick on dogs? Or cows? Why persecute the mice? I'll tell you why: because mice are small and weak and can't fight back. Sure, never mind the rights and wrongs of the case; bring in a gang of roughneck cats and we'll have a lot of fun pushing the mice around!” Cousin Augustus made quite a speech. He waved his paws around and shouted like a senator, and once he forgot that he wasn't speaking to Freddy and turned right around and faced the pig, until Eeny put a paw on his shoulder and swung him back towards Mrs. Wiggins. Freddy couldn't get a word in edgeways. But at last Cousin Augustus ran down, and Freddy said:

“There's something in what you mice say, no doubt. As for your Aunt Sophie, she is all right, because Miss Halsey hasn't hired us to de-mouse her house yet. But let me point out a few facts to you. Those mice in Centerboro are really driving people right out of their houses. And something had to be done. If I could have thought of any other way, without bringing in the cats—”

The mice all began talking at once, but Freddy shouted at them. “Shut up! What's the use of sitting around calling names? Let's get an independent viewpoint; let's hear what Robert and the cows think.”

The four animals appealed to looked at one another. Then they went over to the other side of the barn and held a conference. They muttered together for a while, and then came back and Robert said: “Offhand, we can't think of any solution that will satisfy both parties. We don't think the mice ought to be allowed to run wild in Centerboro. On the other hand, we don't think they ought to be driven out into the cold and the snow. We have only one suggestion: that a fact-finding committee be appointed, one member to be selected by Freddy, one by the mice, and a third impartial member to be agreed on by both sides.”

“A good idea,” said Freddy. “I'll select myself for my representative.”

“And I'll select
my
self,” said Cousin Augustus.

“Then I'd suggest,” said Mrs. Wogus, “that for your third member someone like Old Whibley be named. He's honest, and wise, and he won't take six months to come to a decision.”

After some arguing, this was agreed to, and as it was important that some decision be reached before the cats raided any more houses, Freddy, instead of going into Centerboro the next morning, set out on his skis for the woods where Old Whibley lived. To keep himself warm during the conference he wore an old tweed suit of Mr. Bean's, and Cousin Augustus rode in the pocket.