Free Freddy Plays Football by Walter R. Brooks

but save it I did, and I’m here. And him sittin’ there cozy and warm in the fine house ye have, ma’am, I’m sure, with his feet in the oven and a pot of strong black tea at his elbow, and not a word to throw to a dog, much less to meself that’s his lawful wedded wife.”
    â€œWait a minute,” said Mrs. Bean, and she left the phone. This time Freddy couldn’t hear what was said, but presently she came back. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but he won’t speak to you. Where are you?” And when Freddy told her, at the hotel, she said: “I don’t understand this at all. If you’re really Brother Aaron’s wife—”
    â€œAnd haven’t I the fine engraved certificate to prove it?” said Freddy. “With both our names set to it, and a picture of two sweet little doves a sitting close together on a branch at the top, and well I remember how he used to say ’twas him and me. Och, I can hear him now! ‘Well, well, well, Bridget,’ he says, ‘them doves we’ll be, cooin’ at each other all our lives long.’ But sorra a coo I’ve had out of him these many years.”
    Freddy was going good, but Mrs. Bean cut him short. “Yes, yes,” she said. “You stay there, ma’am. Mr. Bean and I will come down and see you this evening.” And she hung up.
    Well Freddy had proved his point all right. If Mr. Doty was the real Mr. Doty, and not married he would have said so right out. If, on the other hand, he did have a wife, he would have talked to her, no matter how much he disliked her. But he had been afraid to come to the phone, although he had not denied that he had a wife. It was pretty plain that he was afraid of being confronted with the real Doty’s wife, and denounced as an impostor.
    Freddy had only put on the old woman disguise because he thought that Mr. Doty might come to see him. And that was exactly what Mr. Doty did. About an hour later Freddy heard the familiar roar and rattle of his car; it stopped with a loud bang; and presently there was a tap on the door and Mr. Doty came in.
    Freddy had arranged himself carefully in a chair with his back to the window, his trotters in their black gloves folded in his lap, and his bonnet pulled well down. Against the glare of light he was sure that Mr. Doty could recognize him. Mr. Doty stood for a moment frowning down on him. “Well, well,” he said, “so you’re my wife?”
    â€œWife, is it?” said Freddy. “Be off with you, good man. A wife I am, but not to any wee wizened article like yourself.”
    â€œWell, you’re nothing anybody would pin up, yourself, if it comes to that,” said Mr. Doty. “But you claim to be Mrs. Aaron Doty, and I’m Aaron Doty, so—”
    â€œSo if you’re Aaron,” put in Freddy, “you’ve shrunk terrible. A fine big man my Aaron is, with the fine bushy whiskers on him, though a dirty scoundrel entirely. But I’m thinkin’ you’re likely a bit of a scoundrel yourself, mister, and so I’ll be tellin’ the Beans this evenin’.”
    â€œTelling them what?”
    â€œThat you’re no more Aaron Doty than I’m the Queen of Sheba.”
    The mean look came into Mr. Doty’s eyes for a minute, but then he sat down on the bed. “Well, well, that won’t do you much good, will it?”
    â€œIt’ll do this much good,” said Freddy, “that Mrs. Bean’ll put you out of the spare room and me in it. For it’s the kind heart she has, the good woman, and she’ll not rest in her bed nights thinkin’ of her brother’s wife, trampin’ the wet and wintry roads—”
    â€œHow do you know so much about the Beans’ spare room?” Mr. Doty demanded sharply.
    â€œOch, she’d not be lettin’ you sleep in the stable, though that’s where you belong, I’m