LESLI E EPSTE IN
39
"He's under oath! Under oath ! Cite him for contempt!" Mr. Jackson,
in lieu of a gave l, was pounding the desktop with his fists.
"Remove the witness." That was Tavenner. "Sergeant at arms!
Remove the witness from the room!"
Arthur said, "My oh my. Going to be the devil to pay now."
"You got no ca ll saying anyth ing about Mr. Norman, the man be so
kindly toward us these years ."
"Those men are big men, that's a ll I'm saying."
"Do you get it, Bartie?" 1 asked my brother. "Ha ha hal Do you see
how he turned them into fools?"
Barton ignored me. He bent to the Zenith and switched back to the
live broadcast from the Santa Monica Auditorium . Wild Red Berry was
gone. So was Gorgeous George . This was a tag team match. Two men
wearing masks were bouncing off the ropes and hurling themselves
against two other men wearing capes. They were throwing fists. They
were throwing chairs. It was mayhem.
It
was pandemonium. The referee
ran about like a puppy jumping at the humans' knees. The open–
mouthed crowd was hooting. Bartie stood up; he turned around. Even
in the near-absolute darkness of our little room I cou ld see that his
uneven eyes were spark ling with delight.
As MARY HAD FEARED, it wasn't easy getting us out of bed the next
morning. The telephone, ringing incessantly, woke us, not myoid Don–
ald Duck clock. There wasn't time for breakfast. Mary packed a bag
with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the crust cut off the way Bar–
tie liked them. Arthur had his chauffeur's cap on the dark dome of his
head.
"I best drive you boys down to school in the Buick."
That wouldn't please Barrie, 1 knew, since he sat in the seat behind
the bus driver, Mrs. Rakotomalala, who was from the island of Mada–
gascar, and who a lways kept up a conversation with him, in Eng li sh and
French, which he gave every indication of understanding.
"No, no. 1 want the bus," cried Barton. " 1 won't ride wit h o ld Uncle
Ben."
We compromised: Arthur pulled the Buick from the garage and drove
us through the morning mist to the stop, which was at the corner of
Sunset and Capri. The bus was already there, its stop sign extended, the
warning lights flashing. We ran to the steps.
The Coveney twins stood in the open door. "You aren't getting in,"
said Pat.
His brother, Peter, said, "Un-Americans not allowed."
