The Moffat Museum (23 page)

Then Joey sat down on the back step again, took a crumpled newspaper clipping out of his pocket, and studied it carefully.

"What's that?" asked Jane.

"An ad from some school out west that I'm going to study with nights. You send the lessons in by mail."

"O-o-oh!" said Jane in excitement.

"What will you study?" asked Rufus. "Latin?"

"Nope," said Joey. "How to be a draftsman."

"What's that?" asked Jane.

"Drawing plans. Plans for houses, factories, telephone equipment. Gosh, I don't know what all yet..."

In bed that night Jane began to feel better about Joey's leaving school because he'd still be learning ... by letters, by mail. But when she woke up on Monday morning, her heart was heavy again. Did Joey really like the idea of going to work or was he pretending?

She hopped out of bed, dressed, and went downstairs. Everyone was up early. Joey had to leave by seven-thirty so he would be on time.

"And," said Rufus, "you have to allow lots of time in case the Cumberland Avenue Bridge is up for some boat or a string of barges to go through."

"O-o-oh!" said Jane. "Like me on the eight-fifteen waiting for the drawbridge over the Housatonic to come down. Oh, I hope that doesn't happen to you, Joey, on your first day of work!"

Everybody ate breakfast in a hurry. Then Joey folded back the bottoms of his long pants with clamps so they would not get caught in the spokes of the wheels and got on his bike.

Mama handed him his lunch. He put the brown paper bag in the leather tool chest attached to the back mudguard, and he was ready. Mama kissed him good-bye. He rang his bell three times and started off.

Jane ran after him. "I'll wave from the corner," she shouted.

Joey didn't look back, but he had heard. He held up one hand, waved, and sped down Elm Street. At the corner of New Dollar Street he turned his head, saw Jane standing at the curb of Ashbellows Place, and waved once more. Then on he went, growing smaller and smaller. Jane stood up and danced up and down and waved and waved, but he was just a small speck in the distance now. Then she couldn't see him anymore.

Jane began to cry. "Come back, Joey! Joey, come back!" she sobbed. "Joey! Joey!"

Jane mopped her eyes on her petticoat, went home, got her books, kissed Mama good-bye, went through the secret door, whistled for Nancy, and off to school they went, arms around each other's shoulders. Jane couldn't help it. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks, and she didn't have a handkerchief.

Nancy pretended not to notice, but she tucked her handkerchief in the pocket of Jane's sweater.

In school, Miss Mason, the teacher, did what she always did the first thing in the morning. She read a chapter of a good book. They had just finished
Tom Sawyer.
Now she was reading
Heidi.

Wasn't it lucky this was such a sad story? No one would think it was odd that tears kept falling down Jane's cheeks. Some other children might be crying, too, from the sad story, not from such a sight as watching a brother disappear from sight, going toward the Cumberland Avenue Bridge, going to work, starting a different sort of life.

On the way home from school, Nancy, knowing that Jane was sad, said, "Let's go to town and watch old Mr. Natby shoe horses. See the sparks of the anvil fly?"

Jane pondered. The trolley car would go past the Yellow Building, where she might catch a glimpse of Joey running lickety-split on an important errand. Even so, she said, "No. I don't think so, Nancy. I can't go. I have to wait at the corner for Joey."

"Okay," said Nancy. "See you later."

Jane went home, kissed Mama hello, put her books on the dining-room table, and tore down the street to the corner. She sat down on the curb at Elm Street, ate an apple, and prepared herself for the long wait for Joey. She would watch him beginning as a speck and then coming nearer and nearer. She didn't care how long it took. She wanted to think about Joey anyway, and she wanted to be right here at this corner when Joey came riding home. She wanted to look at his face. Had he liked the way the day had gone or hadn't he? She had to know.

If Rufus had not all of a sudden gotten so many jobs... delivering not only the
Saturday Evening Post,
but also the
Cranbury Chronicle
... he would be sitting here beside her, watching the trolley cars, waiting for Joey.

Jane pondered. "I must think of some way to earn money, too. Earn it, tuck it in Mama's black pocketbook that she hangs on the knob of the kitchen door, say, 'Mama! Look inside! Lots of money ... enough to buy a clarinet for Joey, maybe?"' And perhaps something for everybody else. How? Well, that idea would have to pop itself into her head, all unexpectedly, the way ideas tended to do.

"Look at this!" Mama would exclaim. And Jane would laugh and hug her.

Well, it was getting late now. People coming from town were getting off the trolley cars. Some got off at Ashbellows Place. Jane knew most of them, but most did not notice Jane sitting on the curb. She wondered if any of them had noticed a big boy, her brother, Joey Moffat, riding home on his blue bike? But she didn't ask. You don't ask a tired man a question, even friends like Mr. Price.

O-o-h! He would be coming soon. She stood up and peered closely far, far down the street. There! Sure enough! There he was! She was sure that that little speck in the distance was Joey, coming closer and closer. It was ... it certainly was ... Joey!

Jane waved and waved. She danced up and down. She waved the red tie from her middy blouse. Joey saw her. From way, way down at New Dollar Street he saw her! He waved. Closer and closer he came. He was speeding. He waved again, and he rang his bike bell. He rode with both hands, with one hand and with no hands, swinging his arms in the air! Then, with both hands on the handlebars, he crossed the trolley tracks and put on the brakes right in front of Jane, making the dirt fly the way he did at home in their backyard. This time Jane didn't care.

Jane laughed and Joey laughed. His face was shining. One look was enough for Jane. He had liked what he had done at work, liked having his working papers, liked being an errand boy for the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railroad Company!

Jane hopped up, and they rode slowly home. "Was it fun being an errand boy?" she asked. "Carrying important messages? Like maybe telling somebody that the eight-fifteen might be late? Or a message to some banker on the Bankers' Express?" At least, so she thought. But who could tell what a quiet boy like Joey really thought deep down inside himself?

"I don't know. I don't see the messages. Mostly it's carrying supplies here or there. But I've only been there one day," he said.

They rode home. Mama was waiting for them on the front porch. She kissed Joey, took a long look at his face, smiled, and said, "You must be hungry ... all that long ride!"

"Three miles!" said Joey.

Just then Rufus came racing up the narrow path, his empty wagon bumping along crazily behind him because one of its wheels was wobbling, almost rolling off. "Joey," he said, "you beat me home!"

He pulled his wagon around back and then joined them again. "That wheel! It kept coming off. It came off in front of Judge's Bell's house. He was sitting on his front porch reading the
Cranbury Chronicle.
He took a piece of string out of his pocket and tied it on for me. I'm always, even when I am grown, going to carry a piece of string in my pocket, just like Judge Bell. After supper I'll fix it right. Did you like your job, Joey?"

"Yop," said Joey.

"Me, too," said Rufus.

What a day for everybody! They went indoors, and a big surprise awaited Joey. Mama handed him a long cardboard roll filled with ... Jane and Rufus waited and wondered, but Joey knew. "It's marked, LESSON ONE: SCHOOL OF DRAFTSMANSHIP! OPEN CAREFULLY," Mama said.

"Wowie! It came," exclaimed Joey. "I sent for it and it came! Nobody touch this!"

Rufus and Jane backed to the wall.

"I'll open it after dinner," said Joey.

And what a dinner! Pork chops, applesauce, succotash, and mashed potatoes with gravy, and some enormous round cookies with scalloped edges for dessert!

After dinner, Jane and Joey sat down at the dining-room table. There wasn't one crumb on it. Rufus sat in the morris chair, legs flung over the arm.

Then Joey carefully pulled the slender string that made the cardboard roll unwind, and there was Lesson One! After studying the instructions, he spread out a sheet of pale translucent blue drawing paper. It was large.

Joey said, "They send you two sheets of this special paper because if you make one tiny mistake, you can't send it in. They don't want any erasings, even though they sent a special eraser ... for a crisis, I suppose."

A kit had come in a separate small box. It had, besides the eraser, a bottle of india ink, a special pen, a sextant, and a steel ruler. He lined these up on his right.

A college boy!
thought Jane proudly.

Joey rolled up his shirt sleeves and prepared to begin Lesson One.

"Here beginneth the first lesson," said Jane solemnly, like the Reverend Mr. Gandy in the pulpit. She prepared to do her own homework and opened her arithmetic book.

But Joey said, "Jane, you'll have to do your homework somewhere else. You might joggle the table. Lucky I haven't dipped the pen in the india ink and made a blot right to begin with! I told you, it has to be absolutely perfect."

"Oh!" said Jane. "I'm sorry." She felt like crying. How could she have been so stupid? Of course a person can't draw fine lines with someone joggling the table.

Rufus unwound himself from the morris chair. "You can have my seat," he told Jane. "I have to fix my wagon." And he tiptoed out of the room, remembering to avoid the loose board behind the table.

So Jane sat down in the morris chair. Its wide arms made of pretty cherry wood were perfect for writing on and doing homework. She glanced at Joey. He was absorbed in his work. He looked happy.

Jane soon finished her homework and tiptoed out of the room, avoiding, as Rufus had, stepping on the loose board, not breathing until she got outside and joined Rufus.

Rufus was glad to have some help. He said, "Hold the wagon steady while I screw on this baby carriage wheel I found in a lot. Luckily it matches the one on the other side. Jane, you keep your eyes out for spare wheels. This job I have is going to put my wagon under a big strain! It will have to be an artifact for the museum soon."

Then Joey came to the back door. "Hey!" he said. "Wanna see what I did before I wrap it up?"

Jane and Rufus tore into the house. But when they reached the dining room, they tiptoed as though a fragile work of art was in there and might fall or be injured.

Joey held up his blue sheet ... Lesson One. There was a square on the lower right-hand corner. Joey had drawn this square and in it had printed his name, his address, and Lesson One. It was ready to go.

"My! That's pretty," said Jane. "And you didn't make a mistake because there's the spare one still there. But if you ever do make a mistake and do have to use the spare sheet, can we have the no-good one for the museum, tack it on the wall near the easel? It's pretty enough to frame."

"They'll get prettier and harder the more lessons you get into," said Joey. "I hope they come along fast. I love doing this!"

Jane and Rufus watched, from a distance, as Joey rolled the drawing up and inserted it inside a cardboard tube that had also come with the supplies. It fitted neatly in this, and Joey put a two-cent stamp on it. Then, with Rufus on the crossbar holding the document carefully, he rode off on his bike to the post office. Joey figured that if he got it in the mail tonight, it would go off on the early train first thing in the morning.

"Maybe on the eight-fifteen! That has a mail coach on it!" said Jane. And she watched them ride off.

Now what was Jane going to do? That's what she wondered. She went inside. Mama was sitting in the living room reading the
Cranbury Chronicle.
Jane went back to the dining room and sat down at the table. What should she do? Oh, she knew! She would write a letter to Sylvie. She would try to make it funny so Sylvie would not be homesick. She opened up her Elm City pad with its blue-lined paper and began her letter.