Henry and the Clubhouse (6 page)

“Jeepers,” said Henry.“What does she do? Memorize commercials?”

“Oh, Ramona,” said Beezus impatiently, “stop reciting commercials. You don’t have to believe things just because you hear them on TV.” Then she turned to Henry and Murph. “Stay away from that house on the corner,” she advised. “When we said ‘Trick or treat,’ they said they would like to see us do a trick for them and why didn’t we sing a little song. I guess they don’t understand about Halloween.”

“I sang a little song,” boasted Ramona, twitching her red devil’s tail. “I sang ‘Crispy Potato Chips are the best, North or South, East or West, Crispy Chips, hooray, hooray! Get your Crispy Chips today.’”

“And the people thought it was cute,” said Beezus crossly.“They asked her to do it again each time.”

“It’s a nice song,” said Ramona.“I like it.”

While they were standing under the streetlight, Scooter McCarthy appeared out of the darkness. He was wearing his father’s old Marine uniform, without even a mask, and was licking a candy apple. “Hey, where did you get the owl?” he asked.

“Mrs. Morgan,” answered Henry, who suspected Scooter of wanting to let everyone know that his father had been a Marine.

Scooter looked closer. “Sort of beat-up, but not bad,” he conceded.

“Where did you get the candy apple?” asked Murph.

“That house where the people moved in last week.”

“What are we waiting for?” Murph asked Henry. “Come on, let’s get some candy apples.”

“Oh . . . I don’t know.” Henry did not think he cared to meet Ranger when he was wearing an Indian blanket and carrying a stuffed owl. He might trip if he tried to run. There was Ribsy to think of, too. Henry did not want his dog to get in another fight with Ranger.

“Henry is scared of their dog,” said Scooter.

“I am not!” said Henry indignantly.

“Then why do you let him chase you every day?” asked Scooter.

Henry wondered how Scooter knew about this. “Come on, Murph, let’s go ring the new lady’s doorbell.” Henry spoke with more assurance than he felt. He only hoped that the dog would feel more friendly toward him when he was not delivering papers and perhaps would not even recognize him in his war paint. Ranger would probably be in the house and, anyway, Henry was not going to be pushed around by a dog. If his owner was giving out candy apples, Henry was going to have a candy apple. If the worst came to the worst he could use the owl to fend off Ranger. He also had the happy thought that it might be pretty hard for Ranger to bite him through the folds of a blanket.

“Sit, Ribsy,” Henry ordered, when they were in front of the house.To be on the safe side he pulled off the rubber wolf mask.

“Sit!” he said again.

For once Ribsy sat. Probably he was no more eager to meet Ranger than Henry was. As the boys advanced toward the front steps Henry noted that the wind was blowing his scent away from the house. He also thought that since he was disguised with war paint the lady would not recognize him as the boy whose friend had told her that only she could prevent forest fires.That was a good thing.“You ring,” he said to Murph, as he rested his bag of treats in front of his feet and held the owl in his left hand. This left his right hand free to accept the candy apple.

Murph turned on his outer-space eyes and rang the doorbell while Henry braced himself. The door opened and the new neighbor, the one to whom Henry was so anxious to sell the
Journal
, appeared.

“Oh!” She clapped her hands to her chest and stepped back, pretending great fright.

“Trick or treat!” shouted Henry and Murph, who could not help being pleased by her performance. Henry was glad that the lady could not possibly recognize him.

Ranger, who was trotting toward the door, saw the owl with its outstretched wings, sharp claws, and glittering eyes, looking as if it were about to attack. He skidded to a stop on the hardwood floor, turned, and tried to run, but his claws could not dig into the slippery wood. He slipped and skidded to the edge of the carpet, where his claws could take hold. He slunk under the chair, whimpering with fright.

Old Ranger wasn’t so brave after all, Henry thought, as he heard a growl behind him in the dark. Now that Ranger had turned tail, Ribsy was ready to protect his master.

“Go home!” Henry ordered even though he could not see Ribsy.

The lady bent over and looked under the chair.“What’s the matter with Ranger?” she asked. “What’s the matter with the boy?

Come on out, baby. It’s just a stuffed owl. It can’t hurt you.”

Baby! The lady called that ferocious animal “Baby”! Henry heard the jingle of license tags behind him. He noticed that Ranger had heard them, too. Henry wished he had not bothered with a candy apple when he already had a whole bag full of things his mother would not want him to eat.

At that moment Ribsy poked his head around the door.

“Why, it’s that dog that got into the fight with Ranger,” exclaimed the lady, holding out a tray of candy apples to Henry, “and you must be the paperboy.”

Henry accepted an apple.“Uh . . . yes,” he admitted now that his disguise had been penetrated. He used his foot to give Ribsy a shove down the steps. “I—I’m sorry about the fight and what Ramona said about not causing forest fires.”

“Oh, children and pets!” said the lady, with an airy laugh.“You never can tell what little children are going to say, and I have had a lot of pets and they are always into something. Don’t worry about the little girl and please don’t worry about Ranger. He’ll get over it.”

Suddenly a word the woman had spoken repeated itself in Henry’s mind. 

Pets.
 She was interested in pets! He looked at Ranger whimpering under the chair, steadied his owl, and decided to speak up. Now that the lady knew who he was he had nothing to lose, and somehow he had a feeling it would be easier when he was disguised as an Indian. It was almost as if someone else was speaking instead of Henry. “My name is Henry Huggins,” he began. “I am your
Journal
carrier. I deliver the
Journal
to many of your neighbors. The Sunday supplement has a good column about pets you might enjoy reading. . . .” Here he paused to catch his breath, and try to think what to say next.

“Well, it’s about time,” said the lady with a smile.“I am Mrs. Peabody, and I have been waiting for you to come and sell me a subscription.”

“You have?” This possibility had never occurred to Henry.

“Yes, I thought you might want to get credit for selling a subscription,” answered Mrs. Peabody.

“Oh, he does,” Murph assured her earnestly.

“It took you so long I was about to give up and phone the paper myself,” Mrs.Peabody continued.

“Please don’t do that,” said Henry, lest the lady change her mind about the subscription.

“I won’t,” Mrs. Peabody assured him. “I have a grown son who used to deliver papers when he was your age and I know all about it.”

Henry wondered if she really did know everything about a paper route—things like dogs who chased paper boys. Ranger, it seemed to him, was getting over his scare.

He had poked his nose out from under the couch.

“Now don’t you worry about my dog,” said the lady a second time. “He felt he had to defend his property against intruders, but now that he sees we are friends, he will be all right.” She leaned over and spoke to her dog. “Won’t you, Ranger, baby?”

Ranger peered out from under the couch and thumped his whiplike tail.

“He’s really just a lamb,” said Ranger’s owner.

Some lamb, thought Henry, but he felt that he should try to make friends with Ranger, so he gave Ribsy another shove with his foot and said, “Hiya, Ranger?  How’s the fellow?”

Ranger did not growl or bare his teeth.  That was progress.

“Well . . . uh . . . thanks a lot for the subscription and the candy apple,” said Henry.  “I’ll start leaving the paper tomorrow.”

“Good!” said Mrs. Peabody. “I’ve missed the crossword puzzle.”

She did not say one word about having the paper left in some special place, not a word about being careful not to hit the shrubs or the windows. Henry could tell this lady was going to be a good customer.  Probably she would always be home when he came to collect and would always have the exact change ready.

“Good night, Harry,” the lady called after him. She was such a nice lady Henry did not want to tell her his name was Henry, not Harry.

“Well, what do you know,” Henry remarked to Murph when they were out on the sidewalk once more. “Two treats—a candy apple and a
Journal
subscription.” He felt as if a burden had been taken from him.  He had actually sold a subscription, and now that he had sold one, he was sure he could sell others. From now on it would be easy.

Murph laughed. “The way that old Ranger dived under that couch! He sure thought something was after him, but he didn’t know what.”

Henry laughed, too. He laughed at the thought of Ranger skidding on the floor.

He laughed because he felt good.

“I’ve had enough,” said Murph. “Let’s go home.”

“Not yet,” said Henry, who no longer felt like going home. “Just one more house.”

“What for?” asked Murph. “We have more junk than we can eat now.”

“Aw, come on, Murph,” coaxed Henry. “Let’s stop at Mr. Capper’s. I’ll bet he’s giving something good.”

“You just want to tell him about the subscription,” said Murph.

“Yup,” answered Henry. It was true. News like this could not wait until tomorrow.

Now it would be safe for his father to talk to Mr. Capper, who would tell him Henry was a good salesman. There was no danger of his father’s telling him to tear down the clubhouse now.

“OK,” agreed Murph, and the boys started toward Mr. Capper’s house with the good news.

4

Henry Collects

The day after Halloween was the first of November. Henry regretfully had to leave the building of the clubhouse to Robert and Murph, while he called on his subscribers to collect for the
Journal
.

Beezus visited the Hugginses’ backyard and offered to pound nails in Henry’s place.  “Ramona is playing over at Lisa’s house,” she said, “so she won’t get in the way.”

Murph scowled. “No girls allowed.”

“Oh, all right,” said Beezus, and flounced down the driveway.

“It won’t take me long to collect,” said Henry cheerfully, but it was not long before his cheerfulness faded. First of all, he started out to collect without taking any money along. He had to go home and rob his piggy bank so he would have change to give his customers.That took time.

As usual, Henry found that not everyone was home when he rang the doorbell.

Sometimes he had to go back a second and even a third time.That took more time. One man who was home had only a twenty-dollar bill. Henry did not have that much change, so he had to make a second trip.  And all the time he was eager to get back to the clubhouse.

Henry did have one customer who was just about perfect to collect from. That was Mrs. Peabody. She not only had the exact change ready, she had it waiting on a table by the front door so that Henry was not delayed while she went to get her purse. She also had some cookies wrapped in a paper napkin for him. Ranger behaved himself, too. He watched Henry, but he did not move.

There was only one thing wrong with Mrs. Peabody. She opened the door and said, “Well, here is Harry Higgins to collect for the paper!”

Naturally, since she was such a good customer to collect from, Henry did not like to speak up and say, “Excuse me, my name is Henry Huggins.” He just gave her the receipt and thanked her for the cookies.

“You’re welcome, Harry,” said Mrs.Peabody.

Harry Higgins! Henry wondered how Mrs. Peabody would feel if he started calling her Mrs. Beanbody, not that he intended to.

Now that Ranger behaved himself, Mrs. Peabody was his nicest customer, and he would never hurt her feelings.

Then in contrast to Mrs. Peabody there was Mrs. Kelly, who was Henry’s most difficult customer when it came to collecting.

The first time Henry walked up the Kellys’ walk, which was strewn with tricycles, kiddie cars, and battered kitchen utensils, and rang the doorbell, a little voice inside screamed, “Doorbell, Mommy!”