Free The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald Page B

woodshed. “I’m going to tell Mamma. And, boy, when I tell Sweyn, will he give it to you.”
    “J.D.,” Tom said, putting his arm around my shoulder, “I’m not going to try to influence you one way or another. But if you tell Mamma, she is going to insist I give Seth and Pete back the pennies I’ve collected so far. And knowing Mamma, she will also insist I invite Seth and Pete every Sunday, because their folks are too poor to have ice cream except on special occasions. And Seth is more your friend than he is mine because he is nearer your age. Am I right?”
    “I guess that is what Mamma would do all right,” I admitted. “But you swindled Sweyn and me.”
    “How?” Tom asked.
    “We would both get more ice cream off the dasher without Pete and Seth digging in,” I answered.
    “No, you wouldn’t” Tom said. “Did you notice I always whistle before and not after Mamma takes the dasher from the freezer bucket? That is so she will see Pete and Seth. You don’t think Mamma would leave that much ice cream on the dasher just for you and me and Sweyn, do you?”
    “I guess not,” I said. “So I won’t tell Mamma but I am going to tell Sweyn.
    “Go ahead,” Tom said. “You will just be cutting off your nose to spite your face. He will want to make as much money on the deal as I do. That means we’ll have to take on two more customers. You know the freezer holds just enough ice cream for Sunday dinner, especially when we have guests. Mamma can’t leave any more ice cream on the dasher than she does now. It will simply mean less ice cream of the dasher for you every Sunday.”
    Tom dropped his hand from my shoulder. He looked steadily into my eyes. “As I said, J.D., I’m not going to try to influence you one way or another. I’m going to leave the decision strictly up to you.”
    I watched him as he walked toward the back porch, leaving me alone to make the decision. He hadn’t tried to bribe me or blackmail me. With his great brain I knew he could have influenced me, but he didn’t even try. He had treated me as an equal and left the decision strictly up to me. Acting strictly on my own, I decided not to tell Mamma or Sweyn.
    After Sunday dinner that day Tom, Sweyn, and I followed Papa and Abie Glassman into the parlor. We listened fascinated as Abie told Papa all the places he’d been during the past year and the things he’d seen and heard. Papa made notes of items he thought would be of interest to the subscribers of the Adenville Weekly Advocate . Abie appeared to me not to be his usual cheerful self. Papa also must have noticed it.
    “You look worried, Abie,” Papa said. “Do you need any money?”
    Papa didn’t have any money because Mamma said he didn’t know beans about trying to save a dollar. But Papa knew he could send Abie to see Calvin Whitlock.
    Abie stared at the Oriental rug on the floor. “It isn’t money that worries me,” he said. “It is just that I am getting too old to travel around with my wagon.”
    “Then why do it?” Papa asked.
    Abie shrugged his thin shoulders. “What else can I do?”
    Papa thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Open a variety store right here in Adenville,” he said.
    Abie’s eyes brightened for a second and then became sad. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t pay,” he said. “The Mormons naturally buy everything they can at the Z.C.M.I. store and there aren’t enough non-Mormons in Adenville to support a variety store. Besides, it would take every cent I have to open a store and if it failed…” He did not finish the sentence.
    “Nonsense,” Papa said. “You are thinking back to the time of Brigham Young when the Mormon leader tried to drive all non-Mormon business out of Utah with his Z.C.M.I. stores. Things have changed, Abie. I am not a Mormon but ninety-five per cent of the subscribers to my newspaper are Mormons and I get all their printing business. Don Huddle, the blacksmith, is not a Mormon. Fred Tanner, who