The Curious Adventures of Jimmy McGee (16 page)

"O-o-oh!" said Amy. "Did you see that lightning?"

"And hear that thunder!" said Clarissa, putting her hands over her ears in case there might be more and really loud claps!

They ran downstairs.

Papa was saying, "Have we been struck by lightning?" He had opened the cellar door but was guarding it like a dragon with his outstretched arms. He wanted to go down first, make sure of ... what?

"Couldn't have been thunder and lightning," Mama said. "But it did seem to have come from our cellar. Look at the sky, though, not a cloud in it! All clear blue ... pure!"

"Maybe a pipe burst!" said Papa. "Let's go down. Whatever it was, it's gone away."

So everyone, including Wags, who beat them all down, practically sliding there on his belly, raced to the cellar.

"Nothing's wrong down here," said Mama. "Maybe we imagined it!"

"Imagined ... pooh!" said Amy. "It
was
thunder and lightning, wasn't it, Clarissa?"

"Why yes, of course," said Clarissa. She covered her ears again as she always did at the mere mention of thunder. With no bed to crawl under, she stuck close to Amy's mother.

"Well, I just plain don't see how it could have been," said Papa. "With such a clearing of the air ... no rain, no wind, no trees blowing..."

"Anyway," said Mama. "If it had been thunder and lightning, Wags would have hidden behind the dining room door or gone into a closet and howled."

"Well," said Papa. "No pipes have burst. All of us, so tired from such a long drive all in one day, skirting the edge of Hurricane Lobelia, wondering if we'd run into its path ... but hey! Look at that window swinging there, half open, half closed...

"I don't remember opening it. Why would I open that particular window? It would not have been easy ... all windows being stuck from being tightly closed all summer. Why that one? Beats me!"

"Maybe the wind blew it open. There
was
a storm, you know," said Mama. "Well, there
was
a noise down here. It
did
sound like thunder. Four people and a dog don't imagine the same thing at the same time. But come on up. Let's get something to eat."

But Amy said, "I'm going to take some of my toys from my carton upstairs to my room."

"Well, you and Clarissa can do that," said Papa. "My back aches!"

Mama rubbed his back. "It was a long, hard drive. Let's go up. You rest on the divan while I fix a bite or two."

But Wags stayed behind. He sniffed in all the corners of the cellar with Papa's sock dangling from his mouth, and he came over to Amy's carton. He had cobwebs in his nose and had to sneeze! In order to do this, he had to drop Papa's sock. Since he happened to be standing over Amy's carton, which she and Clarissa were about to unload, Papa's sock fell on top of the toys!

"Oh, Wags!" scolded Amy. "That dirty, wet sandy sock is on my nice toys."

She picked it up, and he eagerly grabbed it. It was almost as though it were part of him. And by the dim light of a dusty electric light bulb swinging over her toy box, Amy gasped in astonishment at what she saw. At first she was struck dumb!

Then she said, "Clarissa! Clarissa! Look!"

Clarissa knelt down and looked. "Why..." she said. "Not ... not..."

"Yes!" said Amy. "Little Lydia! My Little Lydia! She's here. Right here on top of my
Who's
Who Book!
Remember I tucked my book in at the last moment this morning along with Little Lydia's blue shawl? And, look! Little Lydia is lying on her real, right L page!"

"I know, I see," said Clarissa.

"And," Amy went on, "she was not there when Papa packed the car, not there when we left Truro, not there when Papa dragged this carton down the cellar when we got home. My book wasn't even open then. I don't think it was..."

"How'd Little Lydia get here then?" demanded Clarissa. "We haven't seen her since she was grabbed by that huge wave, Monstrous!"

Amy thought for a moment. Gently she picked Little Lydia up and studied her. Then she said in solemn tones, "Clarissa! You know what? Little Lydia must have come in the window with that strange little thunder and lightning bolt..."

"Of course," said Clarissa in delight. "With the thunder and the lightning ... through the window there, a little ajar..."

Amy wrapped Little Lydia in her blue shawl, put her in her pocket with her
Who's Who Book.
"Let's take this whole carton upstairs. I don't like its being down here. Another thunder and lightning bolt might make off with something else, or even try to recapture Little Lydia!"

They were about to do this, but Wags kept sniffing around and around the carton. "He smells the sock he dropped in there," said Amy. "But, Wags, you have Papa's sock back now. It's not in the box anymore, is it? You know it's dangling from your mouth."

"Woof!" Wags circled around the box again and again.

"Oh-h! You know what?" said Amy. "He saw Mama run back to the cottage to get his spare sock and drop it in the back somewhere ... here! And he wants that sock, even if it is clean. When we empty the box, we'll find the other sock. But come on. Yo-ho-ho, up the stairs we go!"

They dragged the carton up the cellar stairs to the kitchen, through the dining room, around the bend, through the hall, and then, gasping, up the stairs—none too easy because Wags went along with them sniffing at it all the way from one side or the other, squeezing himself between it and the wall to make sure what he smelled was still there!

But they made it anyway to the second floor, and they put the carton on the blue velvet-covered cushion on the window seat in the bay window.

"Phew!" said Amy. "Hot!" She took Little Lydia out of her pocket. "Clarissa," she said. "Don't you think it's interesting that Little Lydia was on top of the page that has her name on it in my
Who's
Who Book?
"

Wags kept bothering them, trying to look in the carton. Amy handed him his spare sock. "There now, Wags. Take this down to Mama ... maybe she'll wash one or the other."

Wags was suspicious of this sock, but it seemed to smell O.K. to him, so he left to carry his two trophies to Mama. It was a hard trip down the stairs, but he slid most of the way on his belly.

"Maybe," said Clarissa, "Little Lydia
was
in that other sock, been hanging on the line at The Bizzy Bee a long time."

"Oh, no," said Amy. "I don't think so. Anyway, there's a hole in the toe of that one."

So Amy and Clarissa returned to pondering the strangeness of the return of Little Lydia. "And she's been missing for such a long time!" said Clarissa.

"Look at that page in my book," said Amy. "You see those smudges? There're smudges by 'Lydia, Little,' and there're smudges by 'McGee, Jimmy'...new smudges, not the old ones that we've already seen."

"Oh, yes," said Clarissa. "'McGee, Jimmy ... little fellow ... plumber ... banger on pipes,'" recited Clarissa.

"And, don't forget
hero!
" said Amy. "Smudges! Maybe Jimmy McGee made those smudges. Maybe he's the one who found Little Lydia ... brought her back here in thunder, lightning, and in 'ren'! 'Ren' is the way Mama always says 'rain.'

"And that's what she always says when there's a bad storm ... and Little Lydia did come back in thunder, lightning, and in 'ren'!"

"And there was a 'ren-bow,'" said Clarissa.

"Yes," said Amy. "Gone away now, beautiful sky now! And we can say 'Hurrah' for Jimmy McGee. He truly is a
hero!

Amy thought a minute. The window was wide open. "Clarissa," she said, "if Jimmy McGee did get Little Lydia back to me, should we shout out into the air a thank-you to Jimmy McGee? He might hear."

They did this. In unison Amy and Clarissa shouted, "Thank you, Jimmy McGee. You are a
hero!
"

There was no answer, but Jimmy McGee had heard and was pleased.

"It's clear out," said Clarissa. "Soon the stars will shine."

Amy was still studying Little Lydia. "Clarissa!" she said. "Feel Little Lydia. Does she tingle?"

Clarissa held Little Lydia close to her ear. "Why, yes," she said. "She does tingle a little, I think."

"Proves it," said Amy. "Been on lightning. Probably's had lots of adventures since I lost her in the ocean," said Amy. "Maybe she's even had the zoomie-zoomies."

"It must have been a very curious adventure for a do-nothing doll," said Clarissa. "Or for any kind of doll."

Amy picked up her clown doll, sitting with the rest of her dolls on the small divan. "Hello, Zazoom," she said. "Did you miss me? I tell you what, Clarissa. Let's put Zazoom on the windowsill, lean him against the frame, so he can get a breath of fresh air, too."

"Oh, yes," said Clarissa, "where he can look out across the street."

Amy fluffed up his rumpled red clown suit and shook his tousled yellow yarn hair, hugged him, and laughed. Then she deposited him safely on the windowsill, where, if he could see, he would have a fine view of the lamppost across the street. "There," she said. "Don't fall."

Then she closed her
Who's Who Book
and put it in a niche in the little roll-top desk her grandpa had made for her, exactly like his big one. With Little Lydia clutched in her hand, she and Clarissa then went outside and sat down, Clarissa on the top step of the stoop and Amy in the little rope swing that hung from the fragile young pine tree to the left of the steps. Amy swung gently, happily. She held Little Lydia in her right hand and let her pretend she was holding the rope, too.

Mama came to the door and said, "Aren't you hungry? I've brought you a plate of little sandwiches and some milk. Have a little picnic here!"

Sitting there then, watching the stars come out, Amy and Clarissa ate their suppers.

"Oh! How pretty it is here!" said Amy.

"Yes," said Clarissa.

Across the street, from the top of the lamppost Cardinal Bird was singing his good-night song. Then suddenly he flew away, a flash of bright red against the darkening sky. He was heading for Mount Rose Park.

From his place at the top of the lamppost across the street, Jimmy McGee looked over at Number 3017 where Amy and Clarissa were having their snack on the front stoop. Little Lydia was on Amy's plate, joining in. This was a real homecoming party for her! Jimmy McGee smiled. It all looked pretty to him.

He thought about the events of the summer. Finally, everything had gone the way he had hoped it would. He had always wanted to catch thunder and lightning bolts, teeny, tiny ones, to round out his bolt collection, and he had. And he had used them well; he had let them loose on a special occasion, which today had certainly been.

First there had been the carnival of refugees in his headquarters. But, best of all was the rescue and the return of Little Lydia, lost for so long, but now home again at last with Amy. He had never had it in mind to rescue any little lost anything, but he
had
rescued her twice ... once from the great wave, Monstrous, and finally from the electrical effect of the bolt charges. And there she was now, having supper with Amy, author of the
Who's Who Book!
Hero! That's what Amy said about him in that book, and it had bothered him all summer.

He thought, "Well, if that's the way you get to be a
hero,
it had been fun."

Just to test the word, he bebopped, "Fun!"

There was no reply from Little Lydia, sitting on Amy's supper plate at Number 3017.

Right after Cardinal Bird flew off, Jimmy McGee made his own rounds; and when he finished these, he zoomie-zoomied to his winter headquarters, where he had to do some straightening up after the grand jamboree.

It seemed to him that his headquarters echoed still from the songs and sounds and speeches of the refugees. So in zoomie-zoomie time, he created an operetta. The name was
Refugees from Hurricane Lobelia.
He set it to music and outlined the solos, the duets, the dance sequences. When finished, he put it in one of his music scrolls.

In the distance, coming from over at the tool shed in Dunbarton Oaks Park, he could hear the voices of the refugees. It was almost as though they were having a rehearsal of his operetta. Anyway, it was fun to hear ... the basso solo of Froggy, Ms. Red Hen a full orchestra in herself, and of course, the soprano voice of Cardinal Bird, whose duet with Filibuster, the tenor, was the most applauded.

And then off he went on his nighttime rounds. Lights in 3017 Garden Lane were off, except for a dim one in the hall outside Amy's room, so he zoomie-zoomied away.

In bed Clarissa said, "Amy?"

"M-m-m?" said Amy.

"What about Jimmy McGee?"

"Well, Clarissa. He's off on his rounds. But you know what? I made up a song about him ... it just came to me. It goes like this:

Oh, Jimmy McGee, a plumber is he.
He bangs on the pipes to wake you and me.
And he bangs on the gong in the schoolyard, you hear?
So you won't be marked late, not once the whole year!

"Like it?" asked Amy.

"Oh yes," said Clarissa. "I'll learn it."

"Remember, don't you, that school begins the day after tomorrow?" said Amy.