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Authors: Walter R. Brooks

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BOOK: The Clockwork Twin
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To celebrate Byram's moving into the house, the animals were giving a big party in the barn, and Freddy had to write a poem in their honor, which he was to read. But the party got nearer and nearer, and though Freddy sat hour after hour staring at his typewriter, the rhymes wouldn't come. The R key on the typewriter seemed to stand out in front of all the others. Two hours before the party was to start, all he had down was the line: “Rejoice, O animals, rejoice.”

“This will never do,” said Freddy. “Gosh, there must be
some
way of getting those two boys together, so they'll tell what their names are. I certainly can't write a line of poetry until I think of something. They'll just have to go without their old poem, that's all.”

You can judge by this remark how upset Freddy was. For there was nothing, even his mastery of the typewriter, even his detective work, of which he was prouder than his ability to write poems.

He got up and paced the floor. “R,” he said. “Begins with R. Now the letter after R must be a vowel—a, e, i, o, or u. Let me see—O-o-o-o-oh!” he said suddenly. “I've got it! I've really got it at last! Goodness, I feel quite faint.”

As he sat down in the chair there was a tap on the door, and Jinx stuck his nose in. “Hi, pig,” he said breezily, “how's the old muse? Steaming along a hundred miles an hour, I bet. Say, look. The guests are beginning to arrive. Hadn't you ought to be there to receive 'em? You're the chairman, or something. Oh, never mind if the old hymn of praise isn't finished. Leave off the last few lines. They'll never know the difference, and they'll be able to get to gossiping about their neighbors sooner. Poems are always too long anyway.”

“Get out!” said Freddy wildly. “I'll be there, but I've got to finish. Get out!”

“O.K., genius,” said Jinx, and closed the door.

Freddy wrote a few lines, then folded the paper and tucked it behind his ear. “Not much of a poem,” he said, “but it'll have to do.” And he went over to the barn.

It was a wonderful party, for Mrs. Church was there, and the boys, and Bertram, and even the Beans and Uncle Ben, who didn't usually come to these parties, because they felt that they made the animals too stiff and formal to have a good time. After the feasting, Freddy stood up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends, humans and animals,” he said, “before reading to you this poem—which, I am afraid, was too hastily prepared, and is too short, to do adequate honor to our distinguished guests—”

“Lay off the modesty, Freddy,” yelled Jinx, “and get to the work of genius.”

“Well, well,” said Freddy, “perhaps my raucous and vulgar friend is right. I will dispense with the modesty, for I have at last discovered how Adoniram and Byram can get together and find out if their names are the same. Adoniram and Byram, will you please step forward?”

The two boys came up beside Freddy. They looked at him distrustfully, but the pig said: “Don't be worried. By the method which I have thought out, nobody will ever know what those names are but yourselves, and if they are not the same, neither of you will know the other's. Now, they both begin with R. Am I right?”

“Sure,” said the boys.

“Well, Adoniram, whisper the next letter in your name to Byram.”

After hesitating a moment, Adoniram did so.

“Is it the same as the second letter of yours, Byram?” asked Freddy.

Byram nodded.

“Ha!” said Freddy triumphantly. “Very well, now the third letter. The same? Fine. Now the fourth.”

So they went on, and at the seventh letter they stopped.

“They're the same!” shouted Byram.

“We're brothers!” shouted Adoniram. And the two boys solemnly shook hands, while everybody cheered.

“I found out the way,” said Freddy under his breath. “Won't you
please
tell me what the name is?”

But the boys smilingly shook their heads.

“Our name is Bean now,” said Byram.

“Very well,” said Freddy glumly. “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted, waving a trotter to still the uproar, “I have written no long poem for tonight. I wish merely to offer a toast. On your feet, ladies and gentlemen.”

Everybody got up.

“Bertram, Byram, and Adoniram,” said Freddy,

“Any good farmer'd be proud to hire 'em.

He'd never fire 'em

Because you
can't
tire 'em.

So say we all: we all admire 'em—

Bertram, Byram, and Adoniram.”

There was prolonged cheering, amidst which the two boys, after they had bowed and shaken hands with all the guests, led Freddy aside.

“Listen, Freddy,” said Adoniram. “We've decided that we owe you such a lot, we really ought to tell you what our name is. But you must give your solemn promise never to tell a soul.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” said the pig solemnly.

Then Byram bent down and whispered something in Freddy's ear.

“What!”said the pig. “It isn't possible!” And an expression of delight spread over his face.

Then Adoniram repeated the name in his other ear.

And at that Freddy burst out into a roar of laughter that even Mrs. Wiggins couldn't have equalled. He shouted and jumped up and down, the tears streaming from his eyes, and then, yelling and almost sobbing with laughter, he rushed out the barn door into the darkness. And the entire company, who had stopped talking and were staring at him, heard the sound of that enormous laughter die slowly away into the night.

And that's about all. Later, when Freddy had recovered from his laughing fit—and it took him nearly a week—Uncle Ben presented him with the diligence medal, for his persistence in studying out a way of finding out what the name beginning with R really was. But he never told anybody else, and neither did the boys. And to this day I don't know what it is myself.

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 © 1937 by Walter R. Brooks

ISBN: 978-1-4976-9213-8

The Overlook Press

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New York, NY 10012

www.overlookpress.com

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BOOK: The Clockwork Twin
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