‘Now, Doug,’ he said, ‘I’ve been reading one of my favorite authors, Mr Conan Doyle, and one of my favorite characters in all the books by Conan Doyle is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He has honed my spirit and sharpened my aspects. So on a day like today, I woke up feeling very much like that detective on Baker Street in London a long time ago.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Douglas, quietly.
‘I’ve been putting together bits and pieces of information and it seems to me that right now the town is afflicted by lots of boys who are suddenly staying home from school, sick, they say, or something or other. Number one is this: I heard tell from Grandma this morning a full report from your house next door. It seems that your brother Tom is doing poorly.’
‘I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ said Doug.
‘Well, if you won’t, I will,’ said Grandpa. ‘He feels poorly enough to stay home from school. It’s not often Tom feels poorly. He’s usually so full of pep and energy, I rarely see him when he isn’t running. You have any idea about his affliction, Doug?’
‘No, sir,’ said Doug.
‘I would hate to contradict you, boy, but I think you do know. But wait for me to add up all the other clues. I got a list here of the boys in your group, the ones I regularly see running under the apple trees, or climbing in them, or kicking the can down the street. They’re usually the ones with firecrackers in one hand and a lit match in the
other.’
At this Douglas shut his eyes and swallowed hard.
‘I made it my business,’ said Grandpa, ‘to call the homes of all those boys and, strange to say, they’re all in bed. That seems most peculiar, Doug. Can you give me any reason why? Those boys are usually like squirrels on the sidewalk, you can’t see ’em they move so fast. But they’re all feeling sick, sleeping late. How about you, Doug?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You don’t look so fine to me. In fact, you look a little bit under the weather. Taking that together with the boys missing school and Tom feeling poorly and here you are, looking kind of pale around the gills, I figure there must have been some great commotion somewhere last night.’
Grandpa stopped and picked up a piece of paper he’d been holding on his lap.
‘I got a phone call a little earlier from the courthouse clerk. It seems they found a whole lot of fire–cracker paper somewhere in the City Hall this morning. Now that is a most peculiar place to find burnt firecracker paper. The clerk told me they’re going to have to do quite a lot of repairs in City Hall. They don’t say quite what it is they have to fix, but the bill is sizeable and I figure if we apportion it out to various homesteads in the town, it will come to about …’ Here Grandpa put his glasses back on his fine big nose before continuing. ‘… $70.90 per homestead. Now, most of the people I know around here don’t have that kind of money. In order to get it, the people in those homes will have to work quite a few days or maybe weeks or, who knows, months. Would you like to see the list of repairs that have to be done in City Hall, Doug? I’ve got it right here.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Doug.
‘I think you’d better look and study, boy. Here goes.’ He handed the piece of paper to Doug.
Doug stared at the list. His eyes were so fogged that he couldn’t read it. The numbers were immense and they seemed to extend far into the future, not just weeks or months, but ohmigosh, years.
‘Doug, I want you to do me a favor,’ said Grandpa. ‘I want you to take this list and play the part of doctor. I want you to make a series of house calls when school lets out for the day. First of all, go over to your house and see how Tom is doing. Tell him that Grandpa wants him to buy a couple of Eskimo Pies and come over and eat them on the front porch with me this afternoon. Say that to Tom, Doug, and see if his face doesn’t brighten up.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Doug.
‘Then, later, I want you to go to all the other boys’ houses and see how your friends are doing. Afterward, come back and give me a report, because all those boys who are lying low need something to make them sit up in bed. I’ll be waiting for you. Does that seem fair to you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Doug, and stood up. ‘Grandpa, can I say something?’
‘What’s that, Doug?’
‘You’re pretty great, Grandpa.’
Grandpa mused over that for a few moments before saying, ‘Not great, Doug, just perceptive. Have you ever looked that word up in Webster’s Dictionary?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, before you leave, open Mr Webster and see what he has to say.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was getting late and they were still up in the clock tower, nine boys working and cleaning out the firecracker dust and bits of burnt paper. It made a neat little pile outside the door.