The Moffat Museum (5 page)

He went into the living room and sat down in the green velvet morris chair, which he pretended was the sleigh. He could imagine what he looked like sitting there. He held imaginary reins in his stiff hands. He could see through the little eye holes. He practiced not moving his eyes to right or left. He could breathe through the two little holes for his nose and the one for his mouth. Even though he could stick his tongue out, he would not do so even if Letitia Murdock stuck hers out. Even if someone stuck a pin in him, he would not say, "Ouch!" Just remember every second he was a statue and made of wax!

"Phew!" he said. "It's hot!"

He took off his waxworks artifacts, put them back on the shelf in the cellarway, and then did what he had forgotten to do so far. He made a sign: RUFUS, THE WAXWORKS BOY. Joey usually made the signs. He had made a big one and nailed it on the frame of the doorway high up on the barn. It said: THE MOFFAT MUSEUM. But Rufus did the best he could and stored it with his other artifacts. He was all prepared for the visitation, should it come.

After supper he and Jane and Joey sat on the front stoop. It was a lovely evening. They watched the last rosy glow of the sunset spreading over the sky beyond the library. The evening star appeared faintly in the darkening sky.

"That's Venus," said Joey.

They forgot about tomorrow. They forgot about the museum, they forgot about "What's New in Cranbury," Mr. Pennypepper, the tour. Mama came out with a pitcher of lemonade with a chunk of ice in it and some glasses. She sat down in the green wicker rocker and fanned herself with a palm-leaf fan. She told them how pretty it was on this sort of evening in Montowese, especially after a picnic on Peter's Rock.

Then Sylvie came running up, breathless. She sat down beside them. "Did you see the
Chronicle
?" she asked.

"We all saw it," said Mama calmly. "But you know what people will say if they read about your museum? They'll just say, 'How nice! We'll go there someday.' And then they'll forget all about it. Anyway," she added thoughtfully, "you may borrow the china head in case..."

The china head was what Papa used to keep his Velvet tobacco in. Mama said it looked like Papa, but not as handsome.

Then the children walked around the museum before they went in. Even in the dusk, they thought it looked pretty. "A golden fox on an easel at this end," said Jane, "star dust at the other..."

And wait,
thought Rufus,
till they see a waxen statue in the sleigh!
But he didn't say anything, and soon they all went upstairs to bed.

Peace and quietude settled over the house. The last thing Jane heard as she was falling asleep was a little laugh from the boys' room.
Rufus laughing in his sleep,
she thought.

The next day, Saturday was a beautiful one, not quite as hot as the day before. Birds whistling in the trees, pigeons cooing, hens in Mrs. Price's yard cluck-clucking ... all, all serene. Jane and Joey went down to breakfast. No sign of Rufus at the moment, but he came up out of the cellar. "Cool down there," he said.

Rufus looked at Jane and Joey. It was clear that the thoughts and fears of the Pennypepper brigade had swept over them again, that The Moffat Museum might really become Stop Three on the tour.

They looked at the clock ... nine o'clock. The children would be gathering now on the steps of Union School in their Sunday best, preparing for the annual tour.

Jane said, "Make a sign for yourself, Joey, to pin on your shirt. Say GUARD on it, so no one will take a pinch of star dust or something. Make a sign for me. Put ... let's see ... put EXPLAINER on mine. I'll explain the artifacts. How's that? And make one for Rufus. Put ... let's see..."

Rufus said. "Don't make a sign for me. I've already made mine."

"What's it say?" asked Jane.

"Well," said Rufus. "You'll see! Ha-ha! You'll see."

"No funny business," said Jane. "If they come, no funny business. No trying to be a ventriloquist, a talking bear, or something. Mr. Pennypepper might make you stay back, not get promoted."

Rufus didn't answer. They might be right. He resisted the temptation to tell Jane and Joey; he wanted to surprise them with his waxworks artifacts. He was the only Moffat who hoped The Moffat Museum would be Stop Three. Anyway, Joey and Jane had run out to the museum to look it over. Sylvie's fox looked resplendent with the sun shining on its bushy tail. This buoyed them up a little, so with their little signs pinned on them, GUARD for Joey, EXPLAINER for Jane, they then were ready for come what, come may.

Jane ran into the house, got the china head, and put it high on the ledge in the ART section.

While the coast was clear, Rufus decided to get himself into his waxworks artifacts and be ready for the Pennypepper visitation, should it come. He disappeared into the cellarway, leaving the door ajar a little to get some light.

While Rufus was thus transforming himself, Jane suggested to Joey that he post himself at the front of the house, beside the porch. From here he could report the progress of the tour.

There they were, marching down Elm Street to the
Cranbury Chronicle.
So far, so good. Then, in a while, sheets of shiny paper in hand, there they were again at the corner of Ashbellows Place.

"Jane!" Joey called. "Here they are!"

Jane came running. "Where's Rufus?" she asked. "We might need him."

Enthralled by the sight of the oncoming Pennypepper tour, Jane and Joey did not see Rufus as he emerged from the cellar, all decked out in his waxworks clothes. He stuck his sign, RUFUS, THE WAXWORKS BOY, on the front of the sleigh, and settled himself comfortably in it, rag rug slung over his lap concealing his bare brown legs, crackling leather reins held awkwardly in his waxed mittens. He could see out of his two little eyeholes. He could breathe, and he could stick his tongue out of the hole for his mouth if necessary. He would resist the temptation to do that, however, and remember always he was a wax statue not given to sticking out tongues. His scarf was wound snugly around his neck so you couldn't tell where waxworks face and unwaxed clothes with the real Rufus inside began.

Along came Jane, running, panting!

She stopped in her tracks at the side of the house. She gasped. The effect was terrific! "Behold Rufus, the Waxworks Boy!" Rufus muttered. "Don't say one word to me; I am
art.
These may be my last words for a long time..." And these were the last words he was going to say for a long time. Waxworks statues do not talk.

He smoothed the rug over his lap, enjoying the effect of all of this on Jane, who was stunned into silence.

Joey tore around the house. "They're comin'! They're comin'," he said. "They're mustering forces at the beginning of our sidewalk ready to turn in. They
have
made us Stop Three!"

Then Joey spotted Rufus. He nearly fell over Catherine-the-cat, who was looking for her rug. Jane said, "Joey! Don't say one word to Rufus. He is a Madame Tussaud waxworks statue, and those statues do not talk. Don't act surprised."

"Okay, okay. They're comin'! They're comin'!" said Joey frantically.

"Don't run away! Get in position at the door," said Jane. "You're just the guard, remember. You don't have to say anything. But you're real ... not waxworks, so if you think of a word, you can say it, or nod your head, or point," said Jane, determined not to get in a panic. The sight of Rufus sitting stiffly in the sleigh was reassuring.

Now, up the narrow walk that led from the street came, in stately fashion, the children of the expedition, Mr. Pennypepper in the lead, swinging his walking stick. He suggested that instead of walking two by two, they come in single file. "Do not step on the grass!" he warned.

The procession was in this order: Mr. Pennypepper, then the boys, next the girls, and finally Miss Grymes, bringing up the rear and clapping her hands softly to keep the line slowly, slowly moving, and counting the children now and then. But everybody was curious about The Moffat Museum, and no one even thought of slipping away.

Now the line had reached the front porch, where Mama, speechless at the invasion, was standing in the open doorway. She had the sense to take off her big blue-checked apron and throw it behind the front door before the noted Superintendent of Schools, Mr. Eugene'S. Pennypepper, held up his hand and halted the procession. She was stupefied when Mr. Pennypepper, taking off his derby hat, asked politely, "Is this Number Twelve Ashbellows Place?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Pennypepper," Mama answered.

"This, then, is the location of The Moffat Museum as described in the
Cranbury Chronicle
that came off the press yesterday. We, a special group from Union School, would like to visit the museum, if we may?"

Mama smiled. She leaned over the railing and mutely, having caught a glimpse of Rufus in the sleigh, nodded and pointed to the rear.

Slowly the line filed around the house.

Then there they were in a sort of two-rowed semicircle before the museum. And there they observed the Moffats in this order: Joey with a small sign pinned on him that said GUARD, standing in the doorway of the museum. Opposite him stood Jane with a small sign pinned on her blue voile dress that said EXPLAINER. But few paid attention to those two Moffats, for there, sitting in an antique sleigh, was a statue, RUFUS, THE WAXWORKS BOY. So the sign on the front of the sleigh said.

All eyes were riveted on this artifact. Now it was impossible to keep the children in any kind of line. They thronged around the sleigh. They couldn't be torn away. "What a funny thing!" a little girl said. "Once our teacher told us about a strange museum in London where there are statues of famous people made of wax. Now we don't have to go to London to see one."

"Is Rufus a famous person?" someone asked.

No one answered.

But there were some skeptical boys and girls. Was this a waxworks statue of Rufus like one of Madame Tussaud's people? Most thought so. Or was this the real Rufus Moffat?

"Hey, Rufe!" shouted a boy standing right next to the sleigh.

But Rufus looked neither to left nor right. His eyes stared straight ahead, and he said nothing. His hands held steady on the reins, his waxworks mittens stiffly grasping them. Nothing anybody said or did affected him. He did not blink.

The children had been held spellbound by the waxworks boy. They said nothing. It was as though if anyone spoke, Rufus, the waxworks boy, might stand up and address the group, which might be spooky. But no such thing. A waxworks statue does not speak. He or she just
is
.

However, a girl named Letitia Murdock said, "What's Rufus Moffat doing up there in that old antique sleigh, that nice old antique sleigh, not explaining anything? Joey, what is your brother, Rufus Moffat, doing? Bamboozling?"

Joey replied, "I am just the guard. Do not touch the artifact, not that one or any of the ones inside."

Jane stepped forward. "I am the explainer, the guide." Jane decided to do some explaining. Otherwise, the class might hover around the sleigh forever, watching Rufus. And he might melt.

"This is Rufus, a waxworks statue. One of you has already mentioned Madame Tussaud's Museum. This is our waxworks statue, part of the art section of our museum. Now, step inside and see the rest of the artifacts ... star dust ... bears' heads..." Jane said.

But Letitia did not let her finish. She was not satisfied. In spite of Mr. Pennypepper's obvious displeasure—he had a way of rocking back and forth on his toes when he was displeased—Letitia went on anyway. "I been watchin' and watchin', and I saw the waxworks boy named Rufus blink!"

She was about to climb up on the sleigh and study Rufus more closely, and although Rufus thought he should have put a rope around the sleigh, the way they do around dinosaurs in the Peabody Museum to discourage ignoramuses from trying to touch, still he did not move a muscle or blink!

Mr. Pennypepper was quite angry with Letitia. He said firmly, "He did not blink. I have been standing in front, to the right, and to the left of this waxworks statue, and it did not blink!" Silence followed this.