Chapter 7

"He didn't do it. I know he didn't to it!" cried Cathy. "Tell her you didn't do it, Jerry. Tell her it must be a mistake."

"To think that a son of mine would be a thief!" said Jerry's mother. And the face she turned toward him was full of hurt and disappointment. It tore Jerry inside.

"I haven't done anything. Anything wrong," he said.

"You stand there and tell me that you haven't been charging groceries at Bartlett's store for a month?"

"Sure I did but--"

"Oh, Jerry!" Cathy burst into tears.

"What did you do with the money?" demanded Jerry's mother. "Mischief can be forgiven but stealing is a crime. When I opened an envelope and found a bill for the month of April from Bartlett's store, I hoped against hope that there must be a mistake. But now you confess you've been deceiving me and charging the groceries that I gave you money to pay for. I never thought I would be so ashamed of you, Jerry Martin." The look she gave him was worse than a blow.

So she thought him a thief--was ashamed of him--believed the worst of him before giving him a chance to explain. Jerry felt such a deep hurt he felt like crying but he wasn't going to let anybody see him cry. And if that was what his mother thought of him, he wasn't going to stay around here. Not after she had looked at him as if she wished he did not belong in her family.

Jerry slammed the box of candy so hard on the table that the cover opened and some of the candy fell out.

"I paid the bill with the money. Ask Mr. Bartlett if you don't believe me. I was going to surprise you by showing you the bonus he gives for charging a month's groceries. I didn't spend a cent of your old money. I--" Jerry suddenly could not endure being there a second longer. He rushed out, slamming the door behind him.

Rage sent Jerry hurrying down his street and out to Massachusetts Avenue. He was so hurt and angry he could hardly see straight. He would run away from home. He would leave Washington. He would go somewhere a long way off. He would go where nobody would be likely to accuse him unjustly of being a thief. He walked rapidly, almost running in his hurry to leave home.

Where should he go? Jerry did not have even the bus fare to go to town, let alone get out of the city. But he had two feet, didn't he? Maybe after he decided where he was going he would hitchhike. Jerry knew his mother disapproved of hitchhiking but why should he pay any attention to that now, after she had believed him to be a thief? Jerry made no effort, however, to hitch a ride. He walked and walked.

There were azaleas in bloom in some of the yards he passed. Bushes of faded lilacs. Bright beds of tulips and pansies. Jerry did not notice them. He was in no mood to enjoy flowers. He was about a mile from home when he remembered hearing a guest say to his mother, "Florida is really delightful in the spring. And after the winter visitors have left the prices go down."

Jerry thought it might be a good idea to go where the prices had gone down. Be easier for him to earn enough to live on. A lot of people went fishing off the coast of Florida. Maybe he could help out on some fishing boat. Jerry liked to fish and he liked boats. That idea appealed to him. But he realized that it was a long, long way to Florida from Washington, D. C. It was even a long way--five miles at least--from Jerry's house to Memorial Bridge, over which he would cross the Potomac into the state of Virginia.

As Jerry went along the part of Massachusetts Avenue which has many foreign embassies, it occurred to him that he might be seeing Washington for the last time. So he looked hard at the white Venezuelan Embassy and at the red brick British Embassy. Those were his two favorites, and he wanted to remember how they looked.

There were several circles to go around and a bridge to cross over Rock Creek Park before Jerry was anywhere near Memorial Bridge. He missed his direction a little when he left Massachusetts Avenue, but he was finally in sight of the Lincoln Memorial and the bridge was near.

Jerry yielded to an impulse to take a last look at the Lincoln Memorial. He climbed the steps and stood and gazed up at the seated figure of Abraham Lincoln, with so much sadness and kindness in his face.

Having paid his respects to Abraham Lincoln, it didn't seem quite right to be leaving town without doing the same by George Washington. Weary though his legs were, Jerry trudged over to the Washington Monument.

There were not many people waiting in line to go up in the Monument. Jerry was the only one who walked up instead of riding to the top in the elevator. Jerry did not know why he wanted to climb all those eight hundred and ninety-eight steps, but he did. He did a lot of thinking and remembering on his way up. That was the way you did when you were leaving home, he guessed. He thought of school and home and playing baseball--things like that. And some about George Washington. Jerry greatly admired all he had read about him. He was glad they had named the capital of the United States for Washington.

Jerry had been at the top of the Monument many times, yet it was always a thrill to go from window to window and see each scene below. From this one he could see the Capitol and the greenish dome of the Library of Congress. From another window he looked down on a crowded part of the city. Jerry thought that if he knew just where to look, he might see the hospital where he had been born.

The window that overlooked the White House was one of Jerry's favorite views. He remembered Easter Mondays when he had gone to roll eggs on the White House lawn. He remembered a time when he was five, younger than Andy--a time when he had gotten separated from his mother--had been lost. A Girl Scout had taken him to a place where lost children waited to be claimed. A lady played games with them while they waited, but a few of the children had cried. Jerry had not cried. He somehow felt more like crying now. And even more lost.

Well, he must be on his way. He would take the elevator down, for he felt his legs would not last for all of those steps going down. Yet he was reluctant to leave the top of the Monument. Each window gave a picture postcard view of the city he was leaving. It was up here that he was really saying good-by to Washington, D. C.

Why did he have to think just then of the honesty of Lincoln? Or of how Washington had stayed with his soldiers through the hardships of the winter at Valley Forge? They were not men who had run away from the hard things of life. Jerry tried to close his mind against thoughts of Lincoln and Washington. They were dead and gone and had nothing to do with him. It was no use. It had been a mistake, Jerry realized now, to revisit the Memorial and the Monument. Something in both places had pulled against his wanting to run away. Suddenly Jerry realized that he couldn't do it. He no longer even wanted to run away. He wanted to go home.

11

Welcome Home!

It was growing dark by the time Jerry reached home. By now his family would know for sure that he was no thief, but Jerry knew it was possible that his father would be angry about the charge account, in spite of the free box of candy. For a moment Jerry hesitated outside the door. Then he squared his shoulders and went in.

The whole family were in the kitchen. Jerry saw every eye turned toward him--every face light up with relief.

"Hi, Jerry, where've you been?" cried Andy.

"I told you he'd come back," said Cathy.

Jerry was so grateful to Cathy for having believed in him even when things looked bad that he thought he would never again tease her about reading lovey-dovey books or admiring herself in mirrors.

"Oh, Jerry!" cried his mother.

Jerry read the relief and welcome in her face--the love for him. He found that he was no longer angry with his mother. Somewhere on the long, long walk, his anger had died. He could understand that it had been no wonder she had believed the worst of him--getting that bill in the mail and all.

"Got anything to eat?" he asked her.

"We were too worried to eat. None of us has had a bite of dinner." Mrs. Martin rushed to the stove and clattered pots and pans as she put things on to reheat.

His father's clear blue eyes were on Jerry. "After dinner," he said, "you and I will have a little talk."

Jerry did not look forward to that talk, yet it took more than dread to spoil his appetite. His mother said that the onions and asparagus were not as good as when they had been freshly cooked more than two hours ago. But they tasted fine to Jerry. Nor did he mind that the pot roast and rolls were reheated. He slathered butter on three rolls and would have eaten a fourth if he had not seen the necessity of saving room for a piece of apple pie.

Only Andy bothered Jerry with questions while he was eating. "Where did you go?" he asked.

"To the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, if you must know," said Jerry. "I walked up but I rode down in the Monument."

"Is that all you did?" asked Andy.

"I just walked around."

"Walking around gave you a good appetite," said Mr. Martin, as he cut another slice of pot roast for Jerry's plate. "A good thing you don't walk around five or six hours every day or I might not be able to pay the grocery bill."

Jerry winced. He knew his father meant paying cash for groceries, not a grocery bill. His father did not have bills--never charged things. Looking at his father's firm mouth and chin, Jerry wondered how he could have expected to win his father over to having a charge account. Parents were the way they were and stayed that way. Especially his father. It would take much more than half a pound of candy to make him change his mind about charge accounts, Jerry now fully realized.

Mr. Martin said he and Jerry would have their talk down in the recreation room. Jerry noticed his mother and Cathy looked worried. Maybe they expected his father to give him a beating. Jerry was a little worried about that prospect himself.

Jerry saw Pedro watching them as he and his father sat down on the sofa.

"Has Pedro talked any more?" Jerry asked.

"Stop gawking at that parrot and pay attention to me," said Jerry's father.

"Yes, sir."

"You had your mother worried sick."

Jerry said he was sorry.

"Did you stay out so long on purpose to worry her?"

Jerry said that had not been the reason at all. He confessed that he had intended to run away to Florida but had changed his mind and come home.

Mr. Martin's sternness softened. "A good many boys run away from home," he said. "The luckiest ones are those who come back before they have run too far. It was this charge account business you were running away from, wasn't it?"

"Partly." Jerry could not tell his father that his mother's lack of belief in his honesty had had more to do with his running away. Jerry did not want to remember how his mother had looked at him. He hoped never to bring an expression like that to her face again.

"The worst thing about your scheme for the charge account was that you were handling money that belonged to somebody else without his permission," said Jerry's father.

"You mean Mr. Bartlett. It was his money but I don't see why--"

"It was not then Mr. Bartlett's money but mine. You contracted a debt in my name and withheld money that had been entrusted to you."

The way his father put it made Jerry feel that he had done something nearly bad enough for him to be put in jail.

"I was just trying to prove that it pays to have a charge account at Bartlett's," said Jerry.

"You knew very well that I don't have charge accounts or intend to have them."

"What's the sin about charging things?"

"No sin, of course. I didn't say it was. It's a person's right to charge anything he wants to. And my right to pay cash, since I prefer to do business that way."

"I guess that wasn't a good idea of mine," said Jerry.

"Mr. Bartlett is a little to blame for what you did," said Mr. Martin. "I went to his store and told him in no uncertain terms that I did not think it fair for a storekeeper to reward credit customers and do nothing for even better cash customers."

"So is he going to stop giving candy to people when they pay their bills?"

"No. He says he's sentimental about that old family custom. But he saw the justice of my argument. He has decided to give the equivalent of a two per cent discount in produce to any customer whose cash receipts for a month are more than fifty dollars."

"What does that mean--in produce?"

"Well, it could be a bag of potatoes or a box of candy. That's entirely up to your mother."

"Not bad. Not bad at all," said Jerry.

"You can wipe that self-satisfied expression right off your face, young man," said Jerry's father. "Taking things in your own hands and deciding what I should do with _my_ money was wrong and you know it. You do know it, don't you?"

Jerry said he could see now that it had not been the right thing to do.

"When I think of all the time and effort you put in for half a pound of candy--well, I can only hope that someday you'll work as hard at something useful."

Jerry wished his father would hurry up and say what his punishment was to be.

"Considering that there are extenuating circumstances, I am letting you off easy," said his father. "No baseball games for you for the rest of the season. Either at the ball park or on television."

"Not even the World Series on television?"

"Not even the World Series."

The punishment did not seem light to Jerry. He was crushed. "Can't I even play baseball?"

Jerry's father considered the question. "Suppose we confine the restriction to looking at professional baseball."

Jerry sighed in relief. That was not quite as bad. "What are you going to do with that box of candy?" he dared ask.

"I suppose you expected to gorge yourself on it."

"I was going to pass it around," said Jerry. "And take a few pieces over to the Bullfinches. He's been awfully nice to me."

"As long as you have it, you may as well pass the candy around," said Mr. Martin. "But remember. Don't you ever do such a deceitful thing again, Jerry Martin."

"I won't. Honest."

In the cage by the window, the big green parrot flapped his wings.

"Sometimes he does that when he's getting ready to talk," said Jerry.

The parrot remarked something in Spanish which Jerry did not understand. Then he said "Jerry" quite clearly. "Jerry!" he called in his loud, hoarse voice. "Jerry!"

The subdued look on Jerry's face was replaced by a broad smile. "I'm the first one in this family he's called by name," he said to his father.

"It's a good name," said Mr. Martin. "Your Grandfather Martin's name. He made it a name to be proud of. See that you keep it that way."

Jerry said he certainly would try. He really meant to. He and his father went back upstairs together. Weary though he was, Jerry felt the relief of having that charge account business off his shoulders. In spite of being deprived of his beloved ball games, he felt more lighthearted than he had for weeks. First, he would pass the candy box to Andy and then to the rest of the family. Then, before taking some over to the Bullfinches', he would take a green mint down to Pedro.

"If he doesn't like it, I'll eat it myself," thought Jerry.

THE Surprise OF THEIR LIVES

by Hazel Wilson

This book contains the amazing story of Mary Jo and James Dunham, who lived on Morning Street in Portland, Maine, with their father and mother and small sister Ellen.

You wouldn't expect much out of the ordinary to happen to the Dunhams. They went about their happy life--having birthdays and Halloween parties, going to school and staying after, getting into barrels and the mouths of cannons, quarreling and scolding sometimes, but being fond of each other always underneath--as if it would be that way forever.

But you would be reckoning without Lizzie Atkins and scarlet fever if you thought the sea would always stay calm with only a few ripples for the Dunhams. In fact, it was mostly due to Lizzie, whom some parents forbade their children to play with, that Mary Jo and James received just about the biggest surprise that could happen to anyone.

This is not the place to tell what the surprise was. You will have to read the book to find out.

_Drawings and jacket by_ Robert Henneberger

HAZEL WILSON

Mrs. Wilson has written several stories with the background of her native State of Maine. Among them are THE SURPRISE OF THEIR LIVES, about the amazing adventure of a boy and girl in the days when ocean liners docked at Portland, and TALL SHIPS, an exciting tale of impressment and sea battles during the War of 1812.

In 1956, Mrs. Wilson's work for children and books, as librarian, teacher, and author, was recognized by her own college, Bates, in Maine, which awarded her its honorary degree of Master of Arts.

For JERRY'S CHARGE ACCOUNT, she has moved her background to what is now her home city, Washington, D.C. Readers will discover that this background plays an important part in helping Jerry work out his difficulties.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Moved some illustrations to avoid breaking up the text. Corrected mismatched quotes.

On page 30, changed "his legs for apart" to "his legs far apart".

End of Project Gutenberg's Jerry's Charge Account, by Hazel Hutchins Wilson