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Freddy's Cousin Weedly

The Overlook Press

Jinx, the cat, sat on the bank of the little brook that runs through the Bean farm. He had just had his supper and he was waiting for Freddy, the pig. Freddy was late. Jinx just sat and waved his tail slowly. Then he waved it faster. He had an idea it made the time pass more quickly when he waved it fast. He tried it both ways several times, but there wasn't really any way to tell, so he curled his tail around him and washed his face.

He washed his face and his paws and his stomach, and then he tried to wash his back between the shoulders. He tried every way to reach it. He could twist his head around and see a little dusty patch of fur between his shoulders, but he couldn't quite reach it with his tongue. Finally, he twisted around so far that he fell right over.

He got up and started to try again and then he stopped suddenly and looked very hard at a daisy that seemed to be leaning over a clump of grass and looking down at him. He had an idea the daisy had laughed. But when he looked at it, it only nodded and looked back at him with the blank and rather foolish expression that daisies have.

Jinx walked up and down the bank for a while. "Where is that pig?" he said. "I suppose he's at his poetry again, and has forgotten all about the time. Deliver me from a poet!"

He sighed and sat down again and looked at the water, and wondered about it. It came down through the woods, and ran along beside them for a way, and then it cut down through a pasture and into the duck pond at one end and out of it at the other. And then it curved around, past the farm buildings, and ducked under a little bridge and went out into the wide world. Here it was fairly deep, and Jinx leaned over and tried to see what was on the bottom, but he could only see the reflection of his own face. However, that was not unpleasant to look at. "Not at all," said Jinx to himself. "Quite the contrary. You'd have to go a long way to match that face, just for sheer downright good looks." And he tried on some of his best expressions.

He was just trying to look like a combination of George Washington and Julius Caesar when he thought he saw two little shadows moving through the water. He looked more closely and made out two minnows, who were staring up at him. They grinned and waggled their fins derisively, and he thought that one of them put out his tongue.

It isn't any fun being caught doing something foolish, even by a minnow, and Jinx got mad. "You better quit that," he said angrily, "or I'll make you laugh out of the other side of your mouths."

Of course the fish couldn't hear him, but they could see that he was mad. They swam up closer and looked at him, and then they looked at each other, and if you ever saw a minnow giggle, these minnows did. That enraged Jinx even more. He lashed his tail for a second and then he pounced on them. At least he thought it was going to be a pounce, but he had forgotten about the water, and it turned out to be a splash. The minnows, with a flick of their tails, were off downstream, and Jinx, who didn't like water any better than most cats do, crawled out, spluttering. And there was Freddy.

"Well, well," said the pig. "I didn't know you went in for fancy diving, Jinx. What do they call that one? I must try it."

"Don't be funny," said Jinx crossly. He shook himself and sprinkled Freddy generously with water. But the pig didn't mind. "Fine," he said. "Very refreshing. Do it again, will you?"

"Where have you been?" asked Jinx. "I've been waiting here, hours."

"I'm sorry," said Freddy, "but just as I was starting, some people came to call on Mr. and Mrs. Bean, and I waited around to find out who they were."

"What difference does it make?" said Jinx. "They can't call on the Beans when the Beans have gone to Europe for the summer."

"That's just it," said the pig. "They came in a car and brought a lot of trunks and things. I guess they planned to come and stay a month or two. But when they found the Beans were away for the summer they got in a window and opened the house, and then they just unpacked and moved in."

"For Pete's sake!" said the cat. "They can't do that. And how'd they find out about the Beans? You didn't talk to them, did you?" For it is a rule among animals never to talk to strange humans, and indeed most animals never talk even to the people that own them. It had been a good many years before Mr. Bean, who was certainly as kind and friendly to his animals as any farmer in New York State, had found out that his animals could talk.

"Of course I didn't," said Freddy. "Mr. Witherspoon came by, and they went out and asked him. I tried to listen, but the woman shooed me away." He thought a minute. "I didn't like her much," he said.

"We ought to do something about it," said Jinx. "How many of them are there?"

"Just two. The man is little and has on a sort of cowboy hat, and the woman is tall and thin and looks like this." He tried to purse up his lips to look very prim and severe, but a pig's face isn't built to look that way and the expression wasn't a success. "I didn't like either of them much, but I didn't like the woman most."

"H'm," said Jinx thoughtfully. "Well, of course, maybe they're all right, and even if they aren't—" He stopped, and then he said: "I tell you what we'd better do. When we get back from your cousin's, send word to your friend the sheriff. He can come out to the farm and talk to them, and if there's anything queer about them, he will send them away."

Freddy agreed that that was the sensible thing to do, and they started up along the brook. They went through the woods and up over the hill and down the other side to the Macy farm where Freddy's cousin, Ernest, lived. Freddy hadn't seen Ernest for over a year. He would probably have gone to see him oftener, but Ernest always fell asleep when Freddy read him his poetry. Not that that was anything against the poetry. Ernest was always falling asleep. Freddy said that he fell asleep a lot oftener than he woke up. Of course, if you think about that you see that it couldn't be so. But it is one of those things that poets say that don't really make sense, and yet you know just what they mean. For Ernest was probably the sleepiest pig that ever lived.

But anyway, Freddy had decided that he ought to go call on him, and meet his wife and children, and Jinx, who liked children, whether they were pig children or human children, had said he would go along.

So the cat and the pig walked down the hill into the Macy barnyard and knocked at the pigpen door.

After a minute, a face appeared at the window. "Yes?" it said.

"Hello," said Freddy. "Aren't you Cousin Cora?"

"Why goodness me!" said the face. "It must be Cousin Frederick. Come right in." And she flung the door open. "Ernest! Ernest! Wake up. It's your Cousin Frederick come all the way over from Beans' to visit you. Well, well, Cousin Frederick, you're quite a stranger. Ernest has been wondering what had become of you. We don't see much company here, you know. You ought to come oftener."

"I know, I know," said Freddy. "I should have come before, but you know how it is. So much going on."

There was the sound of a hearty yawn from the other room and after a minute Ernest came in. "Ho, ho, hum!" he yawned. "Hello, Cousin. Ho, hi, yaw! Must excuse me, I was up late last night; didn't get to bed till nearly seven, and I slept a little late this morning."

"Morning!" said Freddy. "It's nearly seven in the evening now."

"Is it?" said Ernest. "Well, who'd have thought it? I don't really feel that I've had my sleep out. Cora, where are the—ho, hooo!—where are the children?"

So Cora called the children, and they came in and were introduced. Ernest, Jr., looked and acted a good deal like his father, for he was very plump, and kept rubbing his eyes sleepily. But the second son was a very small and timid little pig who refused to say "How do you do," but hid behind his father and peeked out. All they could see of him was one pink ear and one small bright eye. His name was William, but everybody called him Little Weedly.

"Come, come, Weedly," said Cora. "Come out and shake hands with your Cousin Frederick."

But Freddy said: "Let him alone, Cora. He'll come out when he gets ready."

"I'm sure I don't know what to do about this shyness of his," said Cora. "My Aunt Hattie was the same way; she couldn't even say 'Good morning' to the family without blushing. And my sister,—my goodness, Ernest, you remember how she fainted away when you were introduced to her for the first time?"

"Well," said Freddy with a laugh, "I suppose it was kind of a shock meeting Ernest for the first time—Oh, goodness; he's gone to sleep again. Hey, Ernest, wake up."

Ernest opened his eyes. "Dear, dear," he said, "I'm afraid I dropped off. What were you saying?"

"We were just saying," said Freddy, "that nobody ever knew whether you were shy or not because you never stayed awake long enough for anyone to find out."

"Something in it," said Ernest with a laugh. "Yes—Oh, ho, hi, yaw—something in it. Yes." And he closed his eyes again.

"There he goes," said Cora. "Well, Cousin Frederick, I wish you and your friend Jinx would give me your advice about Little Weedly. How can we get him over his being so scary of everything?"

Well, they talked about it for a while. Freddy suggested sending him away to school, but of course there aren't any preparatory schools for pigs nowadays; and then he suggested spanking him, but they all decided it wouldn't be fair to spank him for something he couldn't help.

"And what is your advice, Mr. Jinx?" said Cora.

"Well," said Jinx, "from what you say I judge he doesn't see much of anybody here but the family. He ought to be around with a lot of other animals all the time. Send him out into the world: that'll make a pig of him."

"But he's such a little fellow to go away all by himself," said Cora.

"Napoleon was a little fellow, and look where he got to," said Jinx, trying to look as much like Napoleon as possible.

"And where would we send him?" Cora went on. "Cousin Frederick, if you could just take him over to the Bean farm with you for a while—"

"Dear me," said Freddy hastily, "I wish I could. But I really wouldn't have time to look after him. There's so much to do while the Beans are away, and then you know I'm president of the First Animal Bank now."

"Oh, yes," said Cora. "I've heard about your bank for animals. It sounds fine. Is it—" She stopped. Little Weedly had whispered something in her ear. "What is it?" she said. Then she laughed, and turned to Jinx. "He says he thinks you're beautiful. He says he wishes he could grow up to be like you."

"Well, well," said Jinx, smiling self-consciously, "so you'd like to grow up to look like me, young man, would you?" But Little Weedly had disappeared behind his mother again. "Smart young fellow," Jinx said. "Why not take him along, Freddy? He's got good stuff in him, that little pig."

But Freddy said no, he was sorry but it was out of the question.

"Well, I'll take him, ma'am, if you'll trust him with me," said Jinx. "I haven't got the education Freddy has, but there's a few things I can teach him. Eh, Weedly? Come over here and sit by your Uncle Jinx." And to everybody's surprise, Little Weedly came out from behind his mother and sat down beside the cat.

They talked for a little while longer and then they got up to go, for Little Weedly was afraid of the dark, and the sun had already gone down. Little Weedly kissed his mother goodby, and then he kissed his father. Ernest had gone to sleep again, but he opened one eye and said: "Eh, Weedly? Ho, hum. Tell me when breakfast is ready," and shut the eye again.

"Well, Mr. Jinx," said Cora, "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you. I hope he won't be too much trouble. If he is, you send him right home."

But Jinx assured her that he would be no trouble at all, and after saying goodby, the three animals set out for the Bean farm, Weedly trotting along contentedly beside his new uncle.

Jinx usually lived in the farmhouse kitchen, but of course with the Beans away in Europe, there was nobody to open the door and let him in and out, so he had moved down into the barn for the summer. When he got home, he fixed up a bed for Little Weedly in the box stall, and then, while Freddy went down to Centerboro to see the sheriff, he wandered over toward the house to see what he could find out about the newcomers.

The house was shut up tight, but there was a light in the parlor window. Jinx mewed at the door to get in, and then he jumped up on the sill and mewed at the window. He could see a tall bony woman sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea. She had a black silk shawl around her shoulders and a funny old-fashioned bonnet on her head, and when she lifted the teacup she held her little finger out straight. Jinx had used his saddest and most mournful mew. It made you think of little children crying and cats dying of starvation and all sorts of sorrowful things, and you would be pretty hard-hearted if you could keep from going to the door. But the woman didn't even look up. So Jinx made the mew even more heart-rending until you would think that he had the most awful stomachache that any cat ever had.

And at last the woman got up. She came and opened the window and said: "Scat! Stop that caterwauling before I take the broomstick to you."

So Jinx jumped down. He was pretty mad. "Keep me out of my own house, will you?" he said. "Well, we'll see about this." He went around to the front door. Standing on his hind legs, he was just able to reach the bell. He put his paw on it and kept it on until he heard footsteps. Then he stepped to one side as the door opened.

A little man with a bald head opened the door wide. "Good evening, sir or madam, as the case may be," he said, bowing very low. Then he straightened up. "Eh!" he said in surprise. "Not a soul here! Dearie me and welladay, not a single, solitary soul." He walked out and looked around and Jinx slipped inside.

The woman had her back to Jinx when he came into the parlor, and he went under the sofa. In a minute the man came in.

"Well now, there's a funny thing, Effie," he said. "Doorbell rings and nobody there, nobody, not anybody at all. What a thing, eh? Eh? That was queer, wasn't it?"

"You talk too much, Snedeker," she said. "It was probably just neighborhood boys, playing tricks. Just let me catch them once, and there'll be no more of that." And she crooked her little finger genteelly as she took a small sip of tea.

"Eh, eh, all very well," said the man. "But there's no neighborhood around here. Can't be neighborhood boys if there isn't any neighborhood. Eh, Effie?"

"Where there's people, there's a neighborhood," said the woman, "and where there's a neighborhood, there's boys, and where there's boys, there's mischief. Don't bother your head about them, but go do as I told you to." But whatever it was she had told him to do, Jinx didn't find out, for at that minute the doorbell rang again.

"You stay here, Snedeker," said the woman, getting up. "I'll see to it this time." She took a broom from the corner and went as quietly as she could out through the back door. After a minute of silence there was a loud thwack! and a yell, and then a sound of excited voices and the front door opened and in came the woman, followed by a tall man with long drooping moustaches and a silver star pinned to his vest.

"Well, ma'am," said the tall man, "to hit the sheriff of this county with a broom when in pursuance of his duty ain't no way to prove to him that you're law-abiding citizens. These here premises belong to Mr. Bean, and what I want to know is: why do I find you occupying said premises, and what's to hinder my chargin' you with unlawfully entering same, and takin' you down to the Centerboro jail?"

The sheriff didn't always talk this way, but he knew that the language of the law is pretty terrifying to most people, and so he used it when he wanted to impress anybody. Besides, he had just been hit behind with a broom.

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Excerpted from Freddy's Cousin Weedly by Walter R. Brooks, Kurt Wiese. Copyright © 1940 Walter R. Brooks. Excerpted by permission of The Overlook Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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