was still there, though, and that’s why we didn’t think of the Herdmans right away. Usually if you missed something, you would just naturally figure the Herdmans had it. But when they stole a thing, they always stole all of the thing. It wasn’t like them to take the baby and leave the stroller.
Louella turned the stroller over and looked underneath it as if she thought Howard might have fallen through, which was pretty dumb. Then we walked up and down the street, hollering for Howard, which was also dumb. How could Howard answer? He couldn’t even talk. He couldn’t walk either, or crawl very much. He couldn’t get out of the stroller in the first place.
“Well, somebody must have taken him,” Louella said. “Some stranger has just walked off with my baby brother.”
“You better tell a policeman,” I said.
“No, I don’t want to. They would get my mother out of the beauty parlor and I don’t want her to know.”
“She’ll know when you come home without Howard,” I said.
“I won’t go home. Not till I find him. Now let’s just think. Who would take Howard?”
I couldn’t imagine who would take Howard. Even my mother said Howard was the homeliest baby she’d ever laid eyes on, but she did say that he would probably be just fine once he grew some hair. That was his main trouble—having no hair. Here he was, bald as an egg, and Mrs. McCluskey kept rubbing his head with Vaseline to make the hair grow. So when you looked at Howard, all you saw was this shiny white head. Not too good.
“Probably someone who just loves babies,” Louella said, but that could be anybody. It would be easier to think of someone who hates babies, but if you hated them you certainly wouldn’t steal one.
Then Louella had another idea. “Let’s just walk down the street,” she said, “pushing the stroller. Maybe someone has seen Howard and when they see us with an empty stroller they’ll figure we’re looking for him and tell us where he is.”
I was pretty disgusted. “Louella,” I said, “you know that won’t happen.”
But it did. The first person we met was my little brother, Charlie, and the first thing he said was “If you’re looking for Howard, the Herdmans have got him.”
Louella looked relieved, but not very, and I didn’t blame her. If you had to choose between a total stranger having your baby brother and the Herdmans having him, you would pick the total stranger every time.
“What have they done with him?” Louella asked.
“They’re charging kids a quarter to look at him.”
“Why would anybody pay a quarter to look at Howard?” I said. “We can look at Howard anytime.”
“They don’t tell you it’s Howard. They’ve got a sign up that says, ‘See the Amazing Tattooed Baby! 25 cents.’”
“They tattooed him!” Louella yelped. “My mother will kill me!”
Actually, they didn’t tattoo him. What they did was wipe off the Vaseline and draw pictures all over his head with waterproof marker.
Charlie was dumb enough to fall for their sign. He paid his quarter to see an amazing tattooed baby, and of course he was mad as could be when it turned out to be Howard McCluskey with pictures drawn all over his head.
So he tagged along behind us, insisting that Louella get his money back, but we both knew that Louella would have all she could do just to get Howard back.
“If it was anything but the baby,” she said, “I wouldn’t even try to get it back—not from the Herdmans.”
“They already collected six-fifty,” Charlie said. “You ought to make them pay you some of that for the use of Howard.”
“I’ll probably have to pay them,” Louella grumbled.
She was right. When we got to the Herdmans’, there were three or four kids lined up outside the fence, and Louella marched up and said to Imogene Herdman, “You give me back my baby brother!”
But Imogene pretended not to hear her and just went on collecting money. “You want to see the tattooed baby?” She
Louella turned the stroller over and looked underneath it as if she thought Howard might have fallen through, which was pretty dumb. Then we walked up and down the street, hollering for Howard, which was also dumb. How could Howard answer? He couldn’t even talk. He couldn’t walk either, or crawl very much. He couldn’t get out of the stroller in the first place.
“Well, somebody must have taken him,” Louella said. “Some stranger has just walked off with my baby brother.”
“You better tell a policeman,” I said.
“No, I don’t want to. They would get my mother out of the beauty parlor and I don’t want her to know.”
“She’ll know when you come home without Howard,” I said.
“I won’t go home. Not till I find him. Now let’s just think. Who would take Howard?”
I couldn’t imagine who would take Howard. Even my mother said Howard was the homeliest baby she’d ever laid eyes on, but she did say that he would probably be just fine once he grew some hair. That was his main trouble—having no hair. Here he was, bald as an egg, and Mrs. McCluskey kept rubbing his head with Vaseline to make the hair grow. So when you looked at Howard, all you saw was this shiny white head. Not too good.
“Probably someone who just loves babies,” Louella said, but that could be anybody. It would be easier to think of someone who hates babies, but if you hated them you certainly wouldn’t steal one.
Then Louella had another idea. “Let’s just walk down the street,” she said, “pushing the stroller. Maybe someone has seen Howard and when they see us with an empty stroller they’ll figure we’re looking for him and tell us where he is.”
I was pretty disgusted. “Louella,” I said, “you know that won’t happen.”
But it did. The first person we met was my little brother, Charlie, and the first thing he said was “If you’re looking for Howard, the Herdmans have got him.”
Louella looked relieved, but not very, and I didn’t blame her. If you had to choose between a total stranger having your baby brother and the Herdmans having him, you would pick the total stranger every time.
“What have they done with him?” Louella asked.
“They’re charging kids a quarter to look at him.”
“Why would anybody pay a quarter to look at Howard?” I said. “We can look at Howard anytime.”
“They don’t tell you it’s Howard. They’ve got a sign up that says, ‘See the Amazing Tattooed Baby! 25 cents.’”
“They tattooed him!” Louella yelped. “My mother will kill me!”
Actually, they didn’t tattoo him. What they did was wipe off the Vaseline and draw pictures all over his head with waterproof marker.
Charlie was dumb enough to fall for their sign. He paid his quarter to see an amazing tattooed baby, and of course he was mad as could be when it turned out to be Howard McCluskey with pictures drawn all over his head.
So he tagged along behind us, insisting that Louella get his money back, but we both knew that Louella would have all she could do just to get Howard back.
“If it was anything but the baby,” she said, “I wouldn’t even try to get it back—not from the Herdmans.”
“They already collected six-fifty,” Charlie said. “You ought to make them pay you some of that for the use of Howard.”
“I’ll probably have to pay them,” Louella grumbled.
She was right. When we got to the Herdmans’, there were three or four kids lined up outside the fence, and Louella marched up and said to Imogene Herdman, “You give me back my baby brother!”
But Imogene pretended not to hear her and just went on collecting money. “You want to see the tattooed baby?” She
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