The Four-Story Mistake Read Online Free Page B

always kinda thought I’d like to hit the road; walk, and ride the rails, and be a bum. Carry my coffee pot on a string around my neck; and not have nothing on my back in the way of responsibilities except a change of clo’es, an extry pair of shoes, and this here old frying pan.”

    â€œWhy didn’t you ever?” asked Rush, who thought the idea sounded pretty good himself.
    â€œWell? I tellya. It’s from my father’s side of the family I get this idea ’bout hittin’ the road. But from my mother’s side of the family I get a mean conscience that’s always kep’ me earnin’ my livin’ whether I wanted to or not.”
    Willy sighed, and removed bacon from the frying pan to a thick chipped plate.
    â€œAin’tcha cold? Whereya been?”
    â€œSwimming,” said Rush dreamily, watching Willy break four eggs into the frying pan and set them over the fire.
    â€œSwimming! That you I heard a while back makin’ them noises?”
    â€œYes, I was being Tarzan,” Rush explained.
    â€œTarzan! Sounded more to me like a rooster with the croup!”
    Rush didn’t reply. He was staring fascinated at the eggs. He watched the transparent whites become opaque, changing from liquid to solid. He watched their four golden eyes looking up at him enticingly. He swallowed, unable to stir or to remove his gaze from those hypnotic eggs.
    â€œWant some?” said Willy.
    â€œOh, no, thanks Willy,” said Rush faintly. “My own breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
    â€œAw, come on,” said Willy, and gave him an enormous plateful. “Want some coffee?”
    â€œWell—uh. I never had any. I mean black like that.”
    â€œOh, it won’t hurt ya. I drank black coffee when I was eight years old. Time I was your age I chewed tobacca. Never hurt me none.”
    Rush took the hot tin cup in his hands. The first swallow was so hot he could feel wrinkles on his tongue after he had taken it. And the black bitter taste of it didn’t please him much, but he couldn’t be less of a man at thirteen than Willy had been at eight, so he drank two cups, smacking his lips.
    â€œNext time I’ll teach ya to chew,” Willy called as Rush reeled dizzily back to the house.
    â€œRush Melendy! ” said Cuffy. “Why are you only wearing your pajama pants? Don’t you know this is the middle of October?”
    â€œI’ve been swimming,” Rush explained.
    â€œSwimming!” said Cuffy outraged; and “Swimming,” said Randy incredulously as she came into the kitchen, “swimming in what? ”
    â€œThere’s a brook,” Rush said. “I discovered it. We’ve got a brook on our property.”
    Randy started for the door, but Cuffy caught her by her overall straps.
    â€œNo, you don’t, my duck. Not till you’ve eaten every bit of breakfast. Here, Rush, here’s your sweater. Put it on and eat your breakfast while it’s hot. You can dress later.”
    There was no help for it. Rush had to sit down and eat breakfast all over again: every mouthful. Oatmeal and eggs and bacon and toast and milk. Cuffy watched him like an eagle at meals nowadays, because she thought he was too thin. Rush chewed until his jaws ached and his eyes watered; he might as well have been eating sawdust. But at last it was over, and he started up the stairs, moving slowly and heavily; weighted down with breakfast.
    He met Mona on the stairs.
    â€œFor goodness’ sake, Rush,” she said. “Why do you look so funny?”
    â€œBorn that way,” Rush replied glumly.
    â€œNo, I mean why are you holding your stomach? Have you got a pain?”
    Rush paused wearily, like an actor playing Hamlet. “Mona,” he said, “it might interest you to know that I’m carrying a heavy burden. For breakfast today I was forced by circumstance to consume four eggs: two fried, two boiled.