CHAPTER SEVEN

Goodness Doesn^t Pay

TOM AND I HAD WORKED OUT a system before he went away to the academy. We both knew that Papa and Mamma would expect me to let them read any letters my brother wrote to me. To get around this, Tom always enclosed two letters in the envelope. One was a nice brotherly letter saying how much he missed me and the fam-ily. The other one gave me the real lowdown on what was happening at the academy. That was why I was astonished when the second monthly report arrived from Father Rodriguez. It was a good report saying Tom had gone an entire month without getting any demerits.

Papa was so flabbergasted that he read the report

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twice. Even that didn’t convince him his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He had Mamma read the report aloud. And then, having convinced himself it was true, he immediately took all the credit.

“I told you it was just a matter of giving Tom time to adjust,” he said proudly.

Papa hadn’t told us any such thing. Mamma had been the one who said it. Papa often took credit for things Mamma said, but she usually let him get away with it.

The difference between the report and what Tom had written me about his second month at the academy left me with but one conclusion. The Great Brain was pulling the wool over the eyes of the Jesuit priests, just as he had done to a lot of adults in Adenville.

Now remember, when we left Tom he was standing in front of the grocery store where he had been buying candy for his candy store. He felt like a fellow about to enter the den of a hungry lion. He was sure the proprietor would tell on him and he would be expelled. Then he happened to look up at the sign over the store which read:

HAGEN’S GROCERY STORE AND MEAT MARKET

This wouldn’t mean a thing to a kid in Tom’s shoes unless he had a great brain like my brother. Tom knew that Hagen was a German name and most Germans were Lutherans. His great brain told him that Mr. Hagen wasn’t a Catholic, or else Father Rodriguez wouldn’t have to stand guard to make sure no kid bought more than ten cents worth of candy. Also the owner of the store would be losing a dollar’s worth of candy business a week if he told Father Rodriguez. Tom kept his fingers crossed as he en-102

tered the store. His future depended upon Mr. Hagen. The fat proprietor looked at him as if he had never seen him before and Tom uncrossed his fingers and smiled.

“What kind of candy do you want, young fellow?” Mr. Hagen asked.

Tom bought ten cents worth of licorice and pepper-mint sticks. He felt like whistling as he walked out of the store and joined Jerry in the line.

“He isn’t going to tell,” he whispered. “The candy store is still in business.”

Tom wondered why Father Rodriguez was so strict about candy in the academy. He decided to ask Father O’Malley about it when school let out on Monday.

“Why does Father Rudriguez only let the fellows buy candy once every four weeks?” he asked.

“There was a time,” Father O’Malley said, “when the boys could have all the sweets they wanted. Parents were permitted to bring candy every visiting day. Out-of-town parents were permitted to mail candy to their sons. And on Saturdays the boys could go to the store and buy all the candy they wanted.”

“Why did Father Rodriguez stop it?” Tom asked.

“Because some of the boys ate so many sweets we had an epidemic of stomachaches,” Father O’Malley answered. “And others weren’t eating all of their meals to give them a balanced diet.”

“That makes sense,” Tom admitted. “But why doesn’t Father Rodriguez tell that to the fellows instead of just saying candy is bad for the teeth and health?”

“It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?” Father O’Malley answered.

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Tom made a trip to the grocery store Friday evening while the priests were at vespers.

“I’ll bet you have been wondering why I didn’t tell on you,” the fat proprietor said.

Tom knew the answer but wanted to hear what the man would say.

“Why didn’t you tell?” he asked.

“I knew you had to be from the academy,” Mr. Hagen said. “And I’ve heard those priests treat you kids like you were inmates in a reformatory. So I just kept my mouth shut.”

Tom knew there was another reason. Mr. Hagen didn’t want to lose a dollar’s worth of candy business a week. But he didn’t say anything.

As usual Jerry, Phil, and Tony each took a bar of candy as Eheir share of the profits. Tom kept a bar for himself and sold the rest, making a neat profit of sixty cents. Everything was just hunky-dory until the next morning when Father Rodriguez sent for Tom. The Great Brain couldn’t imagine what the superintendent wanted, unless some kid had snitched about the candy store. He was expecting the usual stern look on the priest’s face when he entered the superintendent’s office. Instead, for the first time, he saw Father Rodriguez actually smiling.

“I know you have anxiously been waiting for this day to arrive,” Father Rodriguez said.

“I have, Father?” Tom asked, puzzled. “Why?”

“Come now, Thomas,” the priest chided him. “I know you have been counting the days you have been cleaning the washroom. And as of today you have gone an

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entire month without getting a single demerit. I congratulate you.”

Tom sure as heck didn’t feel like being congratulated. He felt like giving himself a hard kick in the behind for not remembering to get some demerits so he wouldn’t lose the washroom job. Without it the Academy Candy Store would be out of business. He had to keep that job.

“I would hate to have it on my conscience,” he said, ” that some boy failed because he didn’t have enough time to study on account of having to clean the washroom. Los-ing part of my study period doesn’t bother me because of my great brain. So maybe you should make the washroom my permanent work assignment.”

“You are really full of surprises today,” the priest said. “The boy who cleans the washroom has ample time to study. Your permanent work assignment will be the hallway on the dormitory floor. You will sweep and dust it every day and on Saturdays you will mop and polish it.”

Tom made one desperate last attempt to save his candy store. “If you haven’t anybody to do the job,” he said, “I can take care of the washruom until you get somebody.”

“Boys being boys,” Father Rodrigue/ said, “I never run out of boys to peel potatoes and clean the washroom. John Burton wilt clean it for one week starting today for throwing spitballs in the classroom. He will be followed by William Daniels for two weeks for coming late to class. And by that time others will be waiting. You are excused, Thomas.”

Tom felt so far down in the dumps as he left the superintendent’s office that it would have taken a team of

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mules to pull him out. He knew his money-loving heart would never forgive his great brain for losing him a profit of sixty cents a week. All he had to do was to get just five demerits a month and he could have kept the washroom job until school ended.

He went into the yard where his three friends were waiting for him under their usual tree. He told them what had happened.

“I guess my great brain went to sleep on me,” he concluded. “We sure as heck can’t make every kid who gets the washroom job a stockholder in the corporation.”

Jerry shook his head sadly. “Good-bye, candy store,” he said. “The washroom is the only way to get into the attic.”

That made Tom’s great brain wake up in a hurry. “Wrong,” he said. “What about the storeroom on the third floor? I bet there’s a trapdoor into the attic from it.”

“So what?” Jerry asked. “The door is always locked. And Father Rodriguez carries the keys on that ring and chain he always has with him.”

“Maybe not,” Tom said. “Remember the ring of keys hanging on the wall in his office? I’ll bet they are a dupli-cate set in case one of the priests needs them when Father Rodriguez isn’t here. There is only one way to find out.”

His three friends looked at him as if he was suggest-ing they steal the crucifix from the altar in the chapel. Phil was the first to recover from his astonishment.

“You get caught in his office when he isn’t there and you’ll be expelled for sure,” he said.

“I’ll put my great brain to work on it,” Tom said, “and I personally guarantee we won’t be caught.”

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I guess Tom’s great brain wanted to redeem itself for not reminding him to get some demerits, because he had a plan all ready by the following Friday. He met with his three friends in the yard after school. He rehearsed them on what each had to do while the priests were at vespers that evening.

At seven thirty-five Tom and his three friends left the dormitory. Phil remained at the foot of the stairway on the ground floor. Tony went into the library. Tom and Jerry walked over to the doorway of the superintendent’s office. Jerry had a textbook with him and they pretended to be arguing about a problem in it. They had to wait a couple of minutes before Phil signaled that no kids were coming down the stairway and Tony signaled that no kids were leaving the library. Then Tom opened the door of the office and slipped inside. He got the ring of keys and put them in his pocket. He scratched on the door and waited until he heard Jerry scratch back. Then he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

He and Jerry went up the stairs to the third floor, with Tony and Phil following them. Phil went inside the dormitory. Tony stood at the top of the stairway. Tom and Jerry went to the door of the storeroom.

“We are all set,” Tom whispered. “Phi! will stop any kid coming out of the dormitory. Tony will let us know if anybody is coming up the stairway. John Burton has the door of the washroom locked so he can clean it. 1*11 start trying the keys now.”

Tom tried four keys before he found the one that opened the storeroom. Inside there was enough moonlight coming through the windows for them to see more religious statues, crates, and boxes. But Tom was only interested in

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the ceiling. And in one corner of it he saw a trapdoor lead-ing to the attic. They slipped out and locked the door.

Then Tom and Jerry went down to the washroom on the second Hoor and Tom made an impression of the key in a bar of soap. He wiped the key off carefully before go-ing back to the third floor and hiding the bar of soap un-der the statue of Saint Francis. Jerry got Phil from the dormitory and the four of them returned to the ground floor, where they took up the same positions as before. When the coast was clear Tom slipped into the superintendent’s office and returned the ring of keys to the peg on the wall.

Everything had been so easy up to this point that Tom expected to hear Jerry scratching on the door immediately. Instead a minute passed, and then another min-ute, and Tom began to sweat. It seemed like an hour but was actually only about five minutes before Jerry finally scratched on the door. Tom slipped into the hallway.

“What took you so long?” Tom asked.

“Two eighth graders were standing in the doorway of the library talking,” Jerry said. “I couldn’t just stand here without attracting suspicion so I went into the library un-til they left.”

Tom met with his three friends at their usual tree in the yard the next afternoon. He had a piece of wood, the bar of soap, and his pocketknife. He sat on the far side of the tree so his three friends could warn him if anybody ap-proached. Tom was an expert whittler and could carve just about anything. But it took him more than an hour to make a wooden key from the impression in the bar of soap. He hid the key under the statue of Saint Francis.

That night he lay awake until all the other boys were

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asleep. He got a black crayon and his pocketknife and crept into the hallway. He removed the wooden key from under the statue and tried it in the lock of the storeroom door. It didn’t work. He then rubbed the black crayon on the key and tried it again. He went into the washroom and turned on the lights. He could tell from the crayon marks that the key had to be carved in two places. He did the carving and once again tried the key in the storeroom lock. It turned halfway and stopped. Again he rubbed the black-crayon on it and tried again. He went into the washroom. The crayon marks told him that he had to make the notch on top deeper. He did this and once again tried the key. This time the wooden key opened the lock. Thanks to Tom’s great brain the Academy Candy Store was back in business.

AH the fellows had complained so much about the candy store’s being closed the week before that Tom decided to buy forty five-cent bars of candy instead of twenty the following Friday evening. Of course, his money-loving heart had something to do with the decision because he had lost sixty cents in profit the week before. He waited until Billy Daniels went to clean the washroom and the priests were at vespers in the chapel. He left Phil in the dormitory to warn if anybody was coming out. There was nobody in the hallway. Jerry went down to the library where he could watch the clock. Tom and Tony entered the storeroom and locked the door behind them. They climbed on top of crates and entered the attic through the trapdoor. Tony remained in the attic while Tom made the trip to the grocery store and back. He had forty bars of candy in the paper sack.

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Jerry was supposed to wait twenty minutes in the library and then return to the third floor. But when Tom scratched on the door there was no answering scratch from Jerry. Tom waited a couple of minutes and then scratched again-He heard Jerry scratch on the door and unlocked it-With Jerry shielding him from anybody coming up the stairway Tom locked the door and hid the key under the statue of Saint Francis.

The candy-hungry boys sure made up for the week the candy store had been closed. Tom made a profit of a dollar and twenty cents besides two bars of candy for himself and each of his three friends. And that night he got his first good night’s sleep since losing his job in the washroom. I guess his money-loving heart had been keeping him awake.

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