Chapter 16

The next day was a quiet one on the farm, for the animals weren’t used to sitting up late, and they were all pretty sleepy. Along about eleven o’clock Freddy went over to the cowbarn to congratulate Mrs. Wiggins on her acting, but he was met at the door by Mrs. Wogus, who looked rather worried.

“I don’t think she wants to see anybody today,” said Mrs. Wogus.

“Why, what’s the matter?” the pig asked.

“Well, it’s that poetry. She can’t seem to stop it. Everything she says rhymes.”

“Really?” said Freddy. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It’ll wear off, I expect.”

“Dear me, I hope so,” said the cow. “Poetry’s all right in a play, but around the house—”

“Sister, who’s that? Is it the cat?” came Mrs. Wiggins’ voice from inside, followed by a deep sigh.

“Goodness, she really is doing it, isn’t she?” said Freddy. “You know what I bet would cure her? Scaring her. It’s probably sort of like the hiccups, and if you give her a good scare, maybe it would go away.” He raised his voice. “Can I come in to see you a minute, Mrs. Wiggins?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Wiggins drearily. “I guess,” she added.

So Freddy went in. “Now don’t talk,” he said. “The more you talk the more you’ll rhyme, and the worse you’ll feel. Let me do the talking. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been keeping an eye on the Snedekers this morning, but they don’t seem to be packing up. They’ve only got three days more, though, before the Beans get back, and my guess is they’ll try to sneak away without our knowing it. I just want everybody to be ready to do whatever’s necessary to stop them. Even if we have to knock them down and sit on them.”

“You can count on me and my sisters three,” said Mrs. Wiggins.

“You’ve only got two sisters,” said the pig.

“It wouldn’t rhyme if I’d said two. I wish you’d tell me what to do.”

“H’m,” said Freddy. “Well—” He looked at her anxiously a minute and then suddenly he leaped in the air and let out a piercing squeal. Mrs. Wiggins gave a jump and then backed away from him.

“My goodness, Freddy,” she said angrily. “That’s a fine thing to do! Come to visit a sick friend, and try to scare her to death! I must say—”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said the pig. “You aren’t talking poetry any more. I cured you! I scared it out of you!”

“Eh?” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Why, so you have, Freddy. Gracious, you’re a clever pig.” She looked at him gratefully. “I’ll do as much for you some time.”

“I wouldn’t want the poetry scared out of me,” said Freddy. “Though right now I’m pretty sick of it, and that’s a fact. I had to push that play through too fast. Well, I must go down to the bank. You be ready if the Snedekers try to get away, won’t you?”

“I’ll be right here,” said Mrs. Wiggins.

But nothing happened that day, or the next. It was on the night of the twenty-fourth—the night before the Beans were to come home—that things began happening.

That night the Snedekers went to bed as usual at about half-past eight. In the Bean parlor the teapot still stood on the little table among the tea things. The parlor was getting darker and darker as the sun sank farther and farther below the western horizon, and at last Mr. Webb, who was standing guard that night, couldn’t see it any more at all.

“You go on to bed, mother,” he said to Mrs. Webb. “I’ll take the first watch. Though I don’t believe anything will happen tonight.”

“Well, this is the last night we’ll have to watch,” said Mrs. Webb, “so you keep your eyes open. And wake me at midnight.”

Mrs. Webb went down behind Washington Crossing the Delaware and climbed into a hammock of her own spinning which she had slung between one of the screw-eyes on the back of the picture and the head of a tack, and was soon sound asleep.

Mr. Webb walked up and down on the top of the frame for a while, but pretty soon he began to get drowsy. So he went and stood upside down on the lower edge. You don’t very often see spiders standing upside down, but if you ever do see one, you will know he is doing it so as to keep from falling asleep. For if he begins to drop off to sleep, he will let go his hold, and then he will drop off whatever he is standing on, and that will wake him up again. It won’t hurt him either, because spiders are so light that it doesn’t hurt them to fall.

Well, Mr. Webb had been on guard for about an hour when he heard someone moving around upstairs. They were moving very quietly, and at first he didn’t pay much attention to it. But when it had gone on for ten minutes or so he went up and waked Mrs. Webb.

“Something going on,” he said. “I thought I’d better call you.”

Mrs. Webb sat up and listened. “Walking back and forth in their stocking feet,” she said. “And that’s a bureau drawer. They’re packing their suitcases. We’d better warn the animals.”

“Someone’s coming downstairs,” said Mr. Webb.

There were stealthy footsteps on the stairs, and then the parlor door opened.

“Be quiet!” whispered Aunt Effie’s voice.

“Eh, Effie,” said Uncle Snedeker’s whisper, “don’t see why we can’t have a light. Ouch! There, I knew it. Ruined my big toe on that chair, that’s what I did.”

“Stand still and let me get it then,” said Aunt Effie. “We mustn’t show a light or the animals will see it and know we’re leaving. I hope you’ve got all your belongings, Snedeker. There’ll be no coming back, once we’ve started. Have you got the key to the car?”

The Webbs didn’t wait for any more. Down they went from the picture frame, leg over leg, and through the crack in the baseboard to the little nest of shavings under the floor where Eeny, who was on guard there that night, was fast asleep. They tickled his nose until he woke up, and then they climbed on his back and away they went, under the floor between the beams, and then outdoors through the hole the mice had gnawed, and down toward the pigpen. Across the barnyard they galloped on that historic ride, like two Paul Reveres riding to warn their friends that the enemy were on the move. At the pigpen door Eeny slid to a stop. Mrs. Webb jumped off, and Mr. Webb rode on to warn the other animals.

Five minutes after Eeny had started from the house, the animals had all quietly gathered in the barn, and had then gone to the posts which Freddy and Jinx had assigned them. For the pig and the cat had worked out a plan. It was a good plan. Freddy, in his favorite disguise of a sunbonnet and an old dress of Mrs. Bean’s, was to lie down in the driveway just inside the gate. When the Snedekers started to drive away, their headlights would shine on him, and they would stop. Then Freddy, who to all appearances would be an old lady who had fainted away, would moan a few times. The Snedekers couldn’t very well drive away and leave her there. After all, they were really pretty kindhearted people. They would have to get out and help her into the house and make her a cup of tea or something. So while they were carrying her into the house the other animals would sneak out, take the suitcases, and hide them somewhere.

The first part of the plan worked all right. The Snedekers came quietly out of the house, put their suitcases in the back seat of the car, then got in, started the engine, and drove quickly down towards the gate. And there was Freddy, looking very old and sick and helpless, lying right in the middle of the drive. The car stopped.

There was Freddy … lying right in the middle of the drive.

“Eh, Effie,” said Uncle Snedeker, “it’s an old woman. Been took sick, likely.”

Aunt Effie was already getting out. She knelt down beside Freddy. “Can we help you?” she said.

Freddy gave a heart-rending groan.

“Here, Snedeker,” said Aunt Effie. “We must help her into the house. Poor old thing. My goodness, what were you doing out on the road so late at night?”

Uncle Snedeker had got out now, too, but as he leaned down to lift Freddy up, his foot slipped on a pebble, and in trying to get his balance he brushed against the sun-bonnet and knocked it off.

“Clumsy!” said Aunt Effie, and then she saw Freddy’s face. “Snedeker!” she exclaimed. “It’s that pig! Quick! It’s a trick! Get into the car.” And before the animals could rush out to stop them, almost before Freddy could roll out of the way, they were back in the car. Uncle Snedeker had stepped on the accelerator, and with a roar they were through the gate and off down the road.

The animals rushed out from their hiding places to gaze disconsolately after them. For a few minutes nobody said anything. Their disappointment was too deep for words. Then Robert said:

“Well, there goes the teapot. I don’t know how we can look Mrs. Bean in the face tomorrow.”

“That plan of yours was just dandy, Freddy,” said Charles. “Now if you’d listened to me—”

“Oh, shut up, rooster,” said Jinx. “We did the best we knew how. There’s no use quarreling about it. We must think how to get the teapot back.”

“It’ll be in Ohio by morning,” said Freddy sadly.

“Before it is day it will be miles away,” said Mrs. Wiggins, and then she sighed. “Oh, dear,” she said, “the rhyming’s come back, with all this excitement.”

“Where’s Weedly?” said someone suddenly.

“He was with me a few minutes ago,” said Jinx. “He was to help me get the suitcases. Wonder where he is?”

“Probably gone to sleep somewhere,” said Charles. “If some animals could just stick to their instructions, and not—”

“You leave Weedly alone,” interrupted Jinx.

“Well, where is he, then?”

“It’s funny he’d run off like this,” said Freddy. “He’s been a different pig since he was in that play. So helpful and polite. It isn’t like him. Maybe we’d better look for him.”

But though they hunted for an hour, Weedly was not to be found.