Freddy Plays Football

Since no outsider can be present at the meeting of a School Board, Freddy stayed in the dining room when the board members arrived, and finished up what was left of the ice cream. He had told Mrs. Church over the supper table all about the football situation, and also of course about Mr. Doty. She was very much upset to hear that Mr. Bean was in danger of losing his farm. “I think, however,” she said, “if we talk to Mr. Weezer after the meeting, maybe we can get him to refuse to lend Mr. Bean the money. At least we can get him to postpone lending it for a while. Bankers always listen to rich people, and as you know, I am pretty rich. If we can do that—well, maybe there are other things we can do later.”

At half past eight Mrs. Church came for Freddy, and he followed her into the parlor where the board was meeting. Mr. Weezer and Judge Willey smiled and nodded, but Mr. Gridley frowned, and Mr. Garble started up angrily. “Really, Mrs. Church,” he said, “I protest against turning this serious meeting into a barnyard frolic with pigs.”

“Sit down, Herbert,” Mrs. Church said calmly. “If I remember correctly, your last frolic with this pig very nearly sent you to jail. Now, gentlemen,” she continued, as Mr. Garble sank back in his chair, “we have voted down the proposal of Mr. Gridley and Mr. Garble to do away with the football team. But the team, as you know, has a bad record. It has never won a game against Tushville, its chief opponent. My friend here, Freddy, has a proposition to make to you. If you accept it, I believe Centerboro will have a chance to win.”

Judge Willey looked at him. “Your contribution to the argument, sir,” he said, “seems to me of remarkably little value. It gives me no reason to classify you intellectually above hoptoads, much less pigs.” He turned to Freddy. “Let’s hear your proposition.”

So Freddy told them how he had happened to get into the football practice, and how the coach had said that with him they’d have a chance of beating Tushville. “Of course,” he said, “I know I couldn’t play unless I was a pupil in the school—”

“How does Tushville manage it?” Mr. Weezer asked. “You can’t tell me some of those boys are in school. The left guard in that last game I saw had a full beard, and one halfback had his wife and three children cheering for him.”

“I believe,” Mr. Gridley said, “that they have an arrangement by which anyone can come into school one or two days a week for shop work, which, they say makes him eligible for the team.”

“I haven’t tried to,” said the principal. “There is little interest here in the game. And I disapprove of it anyway; it is a rough, unmannerly game—”

“So is life a rough unmannerly game,” said Judge Willey. “But about the only way you can get out of it is to go jump down a well. In my youth I played football. Do you consider me rough and unmannerly?”

“On the contrary,” said Mr. Gridley with a smile. Freddy was surprised to see that he could smile.

“Why, all I wanted,” Freddy said, “was to find out if I can’t be a pupil in the school. And it’s not just for football. I never had any education. All I’ve learned I’ve taught myself—”

Freddy grinned. “Thank you,” he said, “and you too, Mr. Garble. If I’m a nuisance to you, I’m very much pleased.”

“Because he’s a pig!” shouted the principal. “And a very clever pig, I understand. What do you think would happen to me at the next P.T.A. meeting, if I had to announce that a pig stood at the head of all his classes? Those parents would tear me to pieces.”

“Not any smaller pieces than they’ll tear you into if the team loses to Tushville again,” said Mr. Weezer, “and they find out it’s because you wouldn’t take Freddy. Remember, all those parents were once pupils in this same school. They had a good team in those days. They’re proud of its athletic record. They’re ashamed now when they see it beaten sixty or seventy to nothing.”

“Legally,” said Judge Willey, “I see no bar. Speaking as one familiar with our legislative system, I would be of the opinion that since there is not, I am quite certain, any specific prohibition against admitting pigs to schools, these animals, or other animals, assuming that they can pass the necessary examinations, have an inherent right to all the privileges which the schools offer to the young. Should, therefore, this pig elect to take the matter up in court, and protest your refusal, I should be compelled under our Constitution to rule that you must admit him, or face trial for contempt of education.”

“Dear me,” said Mrs. Church, “I’m afraid I—well, could you put that in words of one syllable for me, judge?”

“Certainly. Unless the law definitely says: No pigs, Freddy must be admitted.”

Mr. Gridley shrugged his shoulders, and gave in. He turned to Freddy. “If you will present yourself at my office tomorrow morning I will give you the necessary examinations. If you pass them, you will be admitted to the school. And let me add that you need not fear unfair treatment; you will get the same examination, and the same treatment later, that I would give to any pupil in the school.”

Freddy thanked him and everyone seemed pleased except Mr. Garble, who said “Pah!” again and jumped up and stalked angrily out of the house.

“Thank goodness he’s gone,” said Mrs. Church. “Now there is another matter which has nothing to do with the school, but which I should like to discuss.”

“I think,” said Mrs. Church, looking at Freddy, “that although it doesn’t concern you, you might have some helpful ideas. Unless Freddy objects.”

Freddy said he’d be glad to have the advice of anyone with such wide experience. So then Mrs. Church told them all Freddy had told her about the man who called himself Aaron Doty.

“Legally,” said the judge, “I don’t think you have a case against this man. Of course it is plain that he and Mr. Garble are trying to get the money by pretending that he is Mrs. Bean’s brother. But your only evidence comes from the Webbs, and I do not think that a jury would convict a man on evidence given by spiders. Unfortunately, there is a widespread prejudice against spiders. Put a spider in the witness box, and what would your jury do? Would they listen to him? They would not. They would do just what they do at home—they would rise up and try to swat him with a rolled-up newspaper.

“Furthermore,” continued the judge, “that evidence has been explained away by Mr. Doty. His evidence was not very satisfactory, but it was good enough for the Beans. I am afraid all you can do for the moment is prevent Mr. Bean from borrowing the money. That is up to Mr. Weezer and the First National Bank.”

“And I am sorry to say,” said Mr. Weezer, “that now that I have agreed to lend him the money, I can’t back out. I respect Mr. Bean; I will do anything within reason to protect him from this impostor, and if I had known this before he came to me, I could have refused. But I can’t now.”

Mrs. Church looked at him and smiled. “In that case,” she said, “I shall take all my money out of your bank and deposit it in our friend Freddy’s bank, the First Animal. Furthermore, I shall explain this action around town by telling everyone that I no longer consider the First National a suitable place to keep money. I shan’t say that it isn’t safe, Mr. Weezer. Just—unsuitable. And as your largest depositor, I am afraid that it may have an effect on your other clients.”

“It has on me immediately,” said Mr. Gridley. “I shall tomorrow transfer not only my own money, but the school funds, to the First Animal.”

“Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mr. Weezer distractedly. “That will never do! I appeal to you as a fellow banker,” he said to Freddy. “You know what will happen if they do that.”

Freddy said: “Yes, everybody will think that the First National isn’t safe, and they will take all their money out, and you won’t have any to lend to Mr. Bean.”

“I won’t have any bank!” Mr. Weezer moaned. He pulled out a large white silk banker’s handkerchief, which had his initials intertwined with dollar signs embroidered in one corner. He wiped his forehead and said: “I shall have to tell Mr. Bean that I can’t lend the money. I shall have to break my promise to him.”

“You needn’t refuse flatly,” said Freddy. “Just put him off for a while—then maybe we can get rid of Doty some other way.”

“I’ll put him off a month,” said the banker. “But if you can’t get rid of Doty in that time, I’ll have to let Mr. Bean have the money.”

They left it at that. Freddy went back to the hotel for the night, then in the morning, leaving word that if Mr. Doty asked for Mrs. Doty he was to be told that she was out of town for a few days, he presented himself at Mr. Gridley’s office. Except in arithmetic he did very well. “I still feel,” Mr. Gridley said, “that this is very irregular, but I shall admit you to the school. You will report after lunch to Miss Calomel’s room, and I shall expect you to be dressed like the other boys. You will receive fair treatment but I warn you that if you do not keep up your studies you will be dropped. Good morning.”

Freddy thought he could keep up his studies all right but he had no intention of going to school every day. Fortunately his Cousin Weedly now lived on a farm close to town, and Freddy walked out to see him. Weedly didn’t have to be persuaded. He thought it would be fun to go to school, and he agreed to take Freddy’s place three days a week. Freddy had gone to the Busy Bee and bought two of everything just alike—pants, shirt, sweater and cap—and as pigs look a good deal alike anyway, except to other pigs, Freddy was sure that none of the teachers would know the difference, particularly as there was a close family resemblance between them; they both had the same pleasant, open expression.

Freddy was sure that none of the teachers would know the difference.

So Freddy went to school that afternoon. Miss Calomel treated him just like the other pupils, and although the girls giggled a good deal at having a pig in the class, for which you can hardly blame them, everything went off well. Afterwards he went up to football practice. Everybody knew now that Freddy might play on the team, and half the school was there to watch. Mr. Finnerty was delighted.

“There hasn’t been so much interest in football here in years,” he said to the squad. “Indeed, there has been so little that I can’t blame Mr. Gridley for wanting to stop it entirely. However, don’t get the idea that we are going to pile up any big score against Tushville. Our team is still fifteen pounds lighter, man for man, than theirs, and though Freddy can rip up their line, and is better than anyone they’ve got at blocking, he can’t pass and he can’t catch; and what’s worse, he can’t run with the ball. Make no mistake, we’ve got a hard fight ahead of us.”

“I’ve got an idea about that, coach,” said Freddy. “I—” Then he stopped. Better say nothing in front of all these people, he thought. Don’t want Tushville to hear about it. Spring it on them as a surprise, and if it works…! “Tell you later,” he said.