Henry and the Paper Route (6 page)

“Good luck, Henry,” called Mr. Capper, as Henry rode away.

Henry's answer was a grin thrown over his shoulder as his bicycle wobbled down the driveway. Mr. Capper, the district manager of the
Journal
, had wished him luck! Henry felt
so good that he whacked at a tree with a rolled-up paper just to hear the noise.

On the way to Klickitat Street, the beginning of Scooter's route, Henry had to pass Beezus's house. Beezus and Ramona were out on the sidewalk, where Beezus was trying to teach her little sister to jump rope. Ramona swung the rope over her head as hard as she could and when it hit the sidewalk, she stepped carefully over it.

“No, no, Ramona,” cried Beezus. “Jump! You're supposed to jump over it.”

“Hi there,” Henry called, as he sat up straight under his load of
Journal
s.

“Henry!” squealed Beezus. “Are you delivering
papers
?”

“Yup,” answered Henry modestly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ramona staring at him with her mouth open, the jumping rope limp in her hands. Henry supposed he did look pretty grown-up and
important to someone her age. He hoped he would meet a lot of people he knew.

Delivering papers on Klickitat Street was easy, because Henry, who had often seen Scooter cover the route, was already familiar with the customers. He pulled a paper out of the bag and hurled it onto a lawn. Then he rode across the street and tossed a paper onto Mrs. Green's porch. Everyone knew Mrs. Green was particular about having the paper left on her porch, and Henry wasn't going to have Scooter getting any complaints. He zigzagged down the street, throwing papers to the right and to the left. This was the life!

As Henry delivered the papers, the canvas bag on his shoulders became lighter and lighter. So did his spirits. It was with special pleasure that he threw a paper onto the steps of Scooter's own house. Henry hoped that Scooter would be the one to pick it up and
carry it into the house when he came home from the Y.

When Henry finished delivering the papers, it was a quarter to six and the street-lights were coming on. Perhaps he had been a little slow, but he still had fifteen minutes to spare. Not bad. Not bad at all, he thought, as he pedaled happily homeward. The canvas bag on his shoulders seemed wonderfully light, and Henry whistled through his teeth. This ought to show Mr. Capper who could deliver papers.

“Hi, Mom,” said Henry, as he went into the kitchen. “Something sure smells good.” He stooped to pet Nosy, who was sitting beside the refrigerator.

“It's time to get washed for dinner,” answered Mrs. Huggins. “And by the way, Henry, a Mrs. Jones and a Mrs. Ostwald called and left their addresses. They said they had some papers for the Glenwood School paper drive.”

“They did?” exclaimed Henry in astonishment. He had been thinking so hard about the paper route that he had completely forgotten about his advertisements. And now his typewritten slips were getting results, even if they did have some mistakes! Well, what do you know, thought Henry, as he considered this piece of good news.

Henry discovered that he was unusually hungry. “Dad, serve me an extra-thick hunk of meat loaf, please,” he requested, as the family sat down to the table.

“Not
hunk
, Henry,” corrected Mrs. Huggins. “
Slice
.”

“OK,
slice
,” agreed Henry cheerfully. He had a feeling, now that he had actually delivered papers, that the day when he would have his own route was not far off. And his eleventh birthday was getting closer every day, too. In the meantime, there was the paper drive. From the way
things looked, his advertisement was going to keep him busy.

And it did, too. That evening Henry received half a dozen telephone calls from people who had old papers and magazines they wanted hauled away. On the way to school the next morning, Henry tried to figure out how he could handle the old papers and magazines. The thing to do, he decided, was to borrow a wagon—his own had been given to a rummage sale long ago—and pile the papers in his garage. Then he could tie them in bundles later. Beezus and her sister Ramona had a wagon that he was sure he could borrow, and Beezus would probably be glad to help. After all, they were in the same room at school, and Beezus was a sensible girl.

Henry was parking his bicycle in the rack when Scooter arrived. “Hi,” said Henry. “I got your papers delivered OK.”

“What's the big idea, anyway?” demanded Scooter. “Putting those crummy ads in
my
papers?”

“But
I
was delivering the papers,” protested Henry.

“But it's my route.” Scooter raised his voice.

“But Mr. Capper said I could,” Henry pointed out, certain that he was right, but at the same time not wanting Scooter to be angry with him.

“I don't care what Mr. Capper said,” yelled Scooter. “It was cheating, that's what it was!”

By now the boys and girls on the school grounds were beginning to take enough interest in the argument to gather around the bicycle racks to listen.

“It was not cheating!” said Henry heatedly. Scooter couldn't call him a cheater. “You didn't want to deliver your papers last night,
and Mr. Capper said it was all right for me to put the ad in. If you had delivered the papers you could have put the ad in yourself—if you had thought of it!”

The suggestion that he might not have thought of advertising made Scooter even more angry. “Ha!” he scoffed. “Anyway, it was a dumb ad and I bet it won't work.”

“It will too work.” Henry could not resist bragging. “It worked already. Eight people have phoned, and I bet a whole bunch more call today!” There! That ought to settle Scooter.

It didn't. It only made Scooter madder. “All right for you, Henry Huggins!” he shouted. “You don't need to hang around my paper route anymore, wanting to fold papers!”

This stopped Henry. To have Scooter come right out and accuse him of hanging around startled him.
Hanging around!
He did
not like the sound of the words at all. “Don't worry,” he said hotly. “I wouldn't fold your old papers for a million dollars!”

“Not much you wouldn't!” retorted Scooter.

“And you can find somebody else to do your work for you!” answered Henry.

“I think Henry's right,” someone said.

“I don't,” said someone else. “I think Scooter is right.”

Suddenly everyone was arguing with everyone else. Beezus pushed her way through the crowd. “Scooter McCarthy!” she said fiercely. “I think you're mean! Just because you were too lazy to deliver your own papers, you have to go and pick on Henry. You ought to thank him, that's what!”

Henry's feelings were mixed. He was glad to have support from Beezus, and at the same time he wished she would keep out of
the quarrel. He did not want the whole school teasing him about a girl.

“So there!” said Beezus, and stamped her foot at Scooter.

Plainly Scooter did not like being picked on by a girl. “Just the same,” he said, “Henry better—” The bell rang, and Scooter stopped. The crowd broke up and the boys and girls began to make their way into the school building.

“Just the same,” muttered Henry, “we'll see whose room wins the old paper drive.” He was not sure whether Scooter had heard him or not, but he hoped he had.

“Beezus likes Henry,” someone chanted. “Beezus likes Henry!”

Hanging around
. The unpleasant sound of the words still rang in Henry's ears. They made him feel like someone who was in the way, a nuisance. That was the last thing he wanted to be. He only wanted a chance to show Mr. Capper that he was a good businessman. Well, that chance was gone now. Even if Scooter got over being mad, Henry knew that he would never go back
to Mr. Capper's garage again.

Aw, I didn't want an old route, anyway, Henry tried to persuade himself. But he could not make himself believe it.

I
mmediately after school Henry and Beezus, who was eager to lend the wagon and help collect papers, hurried to the Hugginses' house, where they stopped long enough to tell Mrs. Huggins what they were going to do and to pick up some more addresses of people who had telephoned in answer to the advertisement. Accompanied by Ribsy and Nosy, who was a brave kitten
when Ribsy went along to protect him, they continued to Beezus's house, where they ate some bread and cheese and drank some milk before they went out the back door to get the wagon out of the garage.

Beezus's little sister Ramona was hopping around on the grass. Pinned to the seat of her coveralls was one end of a piece of old jumping rope. “I'm a monkey,” she announced, as Beezus pulled the red wagon out of the garage. “That's my wagon,” she said.

“I know,” answered Beezus, “but we are going to borrow it.”

“No,” said Ramona. “I need it.”

“Oh, Ramona, don't be silly,” said Beezus impatiently. “We'll bring it back.”

“No!” screamed Ramona. “I need it
now
!”

Mrs. Quimby came out on the back porch. “Girls! What is the trouble?” she asked.

“We want to use the wagon to get some papers, and now Ramona says she wants it,” Beezus told her mother.

“It's my wagon,” insisted Ramona.

“Why don't you take Ramona with you?” suggested Mrs. Quimby. “Then I'm sure she'll let you use the wagon, won't you, Ramona?”

“Yes,” agreed Ramona happily, because she always liked to be included in whatever the older boys and girls were doing.

“Oh, Mother,” protested Beezus. “She'll just get in the way.”

“But it is her wagon, too,” Mrs. Quimby reminded Beezus.

“All right, Ramona,” said Beezus crossly. “Come on. Let me unpin your tail.”

“I'm a monkey, and I can't take off my tail,” said Ramona, as she bounced down the driveway with her tail dragging on the cement.

Henry wished he could think of some other way to get hold of a wagon. He was embarrassed to be seen on the street with Ramona and her jumping-rope tail.

“Let her go ahead of us, and just pretend you don't know her,” advised Beezus. “That's what I do.”

“I want to pull my wagon,” said Ramona, bouncing back to Beezus and Henry.

“All right,” agreed Beezus, giving her sister the wagon handle. “Turn at the next corner. We're going to the Ostwalds'.”

When they turned the corner they saw a moving van backed up to a house. The painted letters on the side of the van read: “Tucker's Motor Transit. Let Tucker Take It.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Henry. “The Pumphreys must be moving today. Their cat is Nosy's mother.”

“I know somebody who has a seven-toed cat,” said Beezus.

Ramona stood beside the truck, watching
two men in white coveralls carry a set of bedsprings out of the house and push them up a plank into the moving van. “Hello,” she said, twitching her jumping-rope tail. It was easy to see that she wanted the movers to notice her tail. There was never anything shy about Ramona.

“Why, hello there,” said one of the men, grinning at Ramona. “What's this?”

“Looks to me like a little girl with a tail like a monkey,” remarked the other man, and Ramona beamed with pleasure.

“Come on, Ramona,” said Beezus. “We've got a lot of papers to pick up.”

“Yes, come on,” said Henry impatiently. The list in his pocket was a long one.

“I want to watch,” said Ramona flatly without moving.

“OK, you watch,” agreed Henry, “and we'll take the wagon and pick up the papers.”

This strategy did not work. “It's
my
wagon,” said Ramona. She did, however, let go of the handle in order to walk up the plank to explore the inside of the moving van.

Henry was tempted to grab the wagon and run. It had occurred to him that his
advertisement might have been too successful. Picking up a lot of papers and magazines with a little wagon would not be easy. “Hi, Mr. Pumphrey,” Henry said to the owner of the furniture, who came out of the house with a lamp in his hands.

“Ramona, come out of that van this instant!” ordered Beezus. “You're in the way.”

“I don't want to come out,” answered Ramona. “I want to see what's in here.”

“You'd better run along,” one of the movers said. “You might get hurt.”

“No, I won't,” said Ramona, as she stood on tiptoe and tried to peep into a barrel.

“Come on, Ramona,” pleaded Beezus, but Ramona ignored her.

“Say, Mr. Pumphrey,” one of the movers called from inside the van, where he was stacking the bedsprings, “how would you like a little girl with a tail like a monkey to take with you to Walla Walla, Washington?”

Ramona stopped trying to peer into the barrel and smiled at the man who was paying her so much attention.

Henry saw Mr. Pumphrey wink as he said, “Sure. Know where I can find one?”

“It just happens that I have a little girl
with a tail like a monkey right here,” answered the mover.

“How much do you want for her?” asked Mr. Pumphrey, going along with the joke.

“You don't often see a little girl with a tail like a monkey,” the moving man remarked, as he walked down the plank and up the Pumphreys' steps, “especially in this part of the country.”

“I know it,” said Mr. Pumphrey, “and I understand they're even scarcer in Walla Walla.”

“I'll tell you what I'll do,” said the moving man. “This little girl with a tail is in pretty good condition, so I'll let you have her for a nickel. How would that be?”

“It's a bargain,” agreed Mr. Pumphrey, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of change. Ramona watched with big eyes while he selected a nickel and handed it to the mover.

“You're getting a good buy,” said the man, as he put the coin in his pocket. “She has an extra-long tail.”

At that Ramona ran out of the moving van and down the plank, grabbed the handle of her wagon, and began to run toward home as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Ramona, wait!” Beezus called, but Ramona only ran faster. The handle of her jumping-rope tail clattered and her feet pounded on the sidewalk as fast as she could make them go.

Well, there goes our wagon, thought Henry. Now what am I going to do?

“Come on, Henry,” said Beezus. “We'll have to go get her. She thought they meant it.”

“Hey, Ramona, come back here!” called Henry in a disgusted tone of voice, as he joined Beezus in running after her sister. Leave it to Ramona to spoil his plans! Now how was he going to collect all those
papers, without a wagon?

With the wagon rattling after her, Ramona turned the corner and was halfway down the block before Henry and Beezus caught up with her. Beezus grabbed her sister by the arm. “Ramona, wait,” she said. “It's all right. The men were only joking.”

“No!” screamed Ramona, jerking away from Beezus. “I don't want to go to—to that place!”

“But Ramona,” pleaded Beezus, “he was just pretending. He did it to get you to come out of the moving van.” Then she added crossly, “If you had come out when I told you to, it wouldn't have happened.”

“Say, Ramona,” said Henry in desperation, “how about letting me take the wagon while you go on home with Beezus?” He had to get those papers, or the people who had answered his advertisement would be annoyed.

Ramona stopped in her tracks. “No,” she
said, with a scowl. “It's my wagon.”

Henry was disgusted with himself. He should have known better than to have anything to do with Ramona at a time like this. But the trouble was, he couldn't think of any other way to move all those papers and magazines. He did not know anyone else in the neighborhood who owned a wagon, and his father had driven the car to work that morning, so his mother could not haul the bundles for him. He thought of using a wheelbarrow, but he was not sure he could lift a wheelbarrow filled with heavy magazines. Maybe if he took one handle and Beezus took the other…But they would have to get rid of Ramona first, and that would not be easy.

Henry scowled at Ramona, who had climbed into her wagon. “Pull me,” she ordered.

“Oh, all right,” said Beezus crossly.

As Henry looked at Ramona sitting in her wagon, with her tail hanging over the edge, a thought came to him. He wondered why it had not come to him before. There was a chance it might work, too, he decided. You never could tell about Ramona.

“Say, Ramona,” Henry began, “why don't you take off your tail?”

Ramona scowled. The surest way to make her want to wear her tail was for someone to ask her to take it off.

“Mr. Pumphrey said he wanted a girl with a tail like a monkey to take to Walla Walla, Washington,” Henry pointed out. “He didn't say anything about a
plain
girl.”

As Ramona stopped scowling and looked thoughtful, Beezus flashed a hopeful smile at Henry. This might work.

“That's right, Ramona,” agreed Beezus. “Mr. Pumphrey didn't say anything about a plain girl. He wanted a girl with a tail,
because you don't often see one. He said so himself.”

Ramona put her hand on her tail, as if she were thinking it over.

“Without your tail, he probably wouldn't even know you,” added Henry.

“Of course he wouldn't,” said Beezus firmly. “He would think you were somebody else, an ordinary girl.”

“Yes,” agreed Henry, “and there are plenty of
those
around. He probably wouldn't even take you to Walla Walla if you wanted to go. Not even if you begged him.”

That did it. Ramona climbed out of the wagon and backed up to Beezus. “Unpin me,” she requested, and Beezus unpinned the piece of jumping rope and put it into her pocket.

The wagon was Henry's to use at last! Now they could really go to work, and about time, too. Henry could not help feeling
pleased with himself. That was the way to handle Ramona—outwit her.

“Say, Beezus,” said Henry suddenly, when they were finally headed for the Ostwalds' house and their first load of papers, “somebody will be moving into the Pumphreys' house before long. I hope there is a boy about my age.” He felt that a new boy would be especially welcome now that Scooter was mad at him.

“I hope there is a girl,” said Beezus, “a girl who doesn't have a little sister.”

Mrs. Ostwald not only had piles of the
Journal
and the
Shopping News
, Henry found when they called on her; she also had piles of
Life
. Henry and Beezus had to make four trips with the wagon to remove all the papers and magazines from Mrs. Ostwald's basement. It was hard work, because
Life
was slippery as well as heavy. No matter how carefully they piled it on the wagon, it slipped and slid and
slithered. Henry was in such a hurry that he threw the papers and magazines into his garage. He would stack and tie them later.

The second lady had old newspapers and
The Saturday Evening Post
, which was not as heavy as
Life
, but still pretty heavy. It was more slippery, though. The papers were dusty, and printer's ink rubbed off on their hands. Henry felt hot and dirty by the time he and Beezus had finished dumping the second lady's papers into his garage.

“Goodness, Henry, just look at you!” exclaimed Mrs. Huggins, when he went into the house. “You'll have to take a bath and put on a clean shirt before dinner.”

“Sure, Mom,” answered Henry. “Any calls for me?”

“Yes, several,” said Mrs. Huggins. “The addresses are on the pad by the telephone.”

At dinner Henry told his father about the success of his advertisements. Mr. Huggins laughed and said what Henry had hoped he would say. He said that after dinner he would take the car and help Henry pick up some papers.

Henry and his father worked hard that evening. It seemed as if all the neighbors had been collecting old papers and magazines for months. Some people gave them big piles of heavy magazines, like
Life
and
House Beautiful
. Others gave them small stacks of lightweight magazines, like
Reader's Digest
. Some people gave them magazines of all sizes, that were hard to stack. Henry decided he liked best the people who gave them
National Geographic
, because it was thick, an easy size to handle, and did not slip and slide. Henry and his father took everything that was given to them and tossed it into the Hugginses' garage. Mr. Huggins said he would leave the car in the driveway that night. Mrs. Huggins said Henry had to take another bath.