Danny Dunn and the Homework Machine (5 page)

He blushed. “I'm sorry, Mom. I like Miss Arnold. You know that, and so does she. But I don't see why I have to give up using a perfectly good tool just because I know how to use it and the other kids don't. For instance, would you forbid me to get information out of an encyclopedia, if I had one and the other kids didn't?”

“Hmm… No, I suppose not,” Mrs. Dunn said, reflectively. “But—”

“Well, the encyclopedia's a tool, too. I use Minny the same way.”

Danny turned to his teacher. “I'm sorry, Miss Arnold,” he said, in a tone that was respectful but firm. “When you talk about what's fair—I don't think it would be fair to make us stop.”

Miss Arnold sighed. Mrs. Dunn said, “Very well, Dan. Suppose you go get some coffee for Miss Arnold. I'm sure she'd like some now.”

“Yes, I would,” the teacher said.

Danny went off to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of the room, Mrs. Dunn drew her chair closer to Miss Arnold's.

“As we were talking,” she said, softly, “an idea came to me. I think I know how to solve this problem—and without using a computer, either. Listen, Miss Arnold…

She began whispering earnestly. And a broad smile slowly spread over Miss Arnold's face.

CHAPTER NINE

Snitcher Confesses

The following morning, which was Saturday, Danny met Joe and Irene and walked with them to a little stream near the campus of Midston University. Here, where an arched iron bridge spanned the stream, the three sat down and dangled their legs over the water, and Danny told of Miss Arnold's visit.

“Doggone it,” said Joe, leaning forward to drop a pebble on his own reflection. “I knew it. Dames! Nothing but trouble! Now we'll have to give up using the computer.”

“No we won't,” said Danny. “She told me she wouldn't force me to stop using it.”

Irene thoughtfully polished her nails against her sweater. “Do you think it's right, Dan?” she said.

“Why not?”

“If Miss Arnold thinks it isn't fair—well, maybe it isn't. After all, she is our teacher.”

“Of course it's right,” Danny said impatiently. “I told you, she said I had a point. That's the same as saying I won the argument. Forget it. What I'm wondering is, how did she find out about our using the computer?”

“I've got a good suspicion,” said Joe. “I'll bet it was Snitcher Philips.”

“How could it be? How could he know about the computer?”

“How does he ever know about any of the things he snitches about? Maybe he uses carrier pigeons.”

Danny snorted.

“Well, who else could it be?” Joe persisted. “Maybe he followed us home one day and watched us.”

“We can find out,” said Danny. “Did you ever hear of Mata Hari?”

“Nope. Who was that? Any relative to that guy you once talked about—Hig?”

“No, you dope. Mata Hari was a famous spy, a woman who used to get friendly with soldiers and find out their secrets. I saw her in an old movie on TV.”

“Dames—” Joe began.

Irene frowned at him. “Joe Pearson!” she said. “If you say that once more, I'll push you off this bridge into the water. Go on, Danny. What's your plan?”

“You're my plan,” said Danny. “And Snitcher is the enemy…”

* * * * *

Monday afternoon, when class was over, Eddie Philips was just leaving school when, to his astonishment, Irene stopped him.

“Hello, Eddie,” she said, in a voice that oozed honey.

“H-hello,” he said, staring.

“I wondered if you'd like to carry my books today?”

“Well, gee… sure.”

He took them from her, looking a little surprised.

“You aren't going around with Danny Dunn any more?” he asked.

“Oh, him.” Irene shrugged and pouted. “He never talks about anything but his old science stuff. I like a boy who's interested in lots of things.”

They walked down the street past the drugstore, and Eddie never noticed Joe and Danny peering at him from inside.

Danny glanced up the clock on the wall. “She should just be telling him how smart he is,” he remarked.

Joe set his watch. “If we're right, it won't be long now.”

Irene and Eddie had turned into Elm Street and were passing the gas station. “I thought the way you answered Miss Arnold's question about Abraham Lincoln was just wonderful,” Irene cooed. “You must do an awful lot of studying at home.”

“Nah. I don't have to do much. Most of this stuff is pie for me,” Eddie boasted.

“Isn't that wonderful!” Irene sighed, and fluttered her eyelashes in what she hoped was a Mata Hari manner.

They turned into Maple Street. They were passing the vacant lot where the boys sometimes practiced baseball. Irene stopped walking and looked sweetly at Eddie.

“You know, Danny has been helping me with my homework,” she said. “But maybe I'll let you help me, instead, since you know the subjects so well and can do them so easily.”

“Swell!” said Eddie. He added, with a grin, “And I won't need any machine, either. I can do it standing on my head.”

At the word “machine” Irene, still smiling, reached out and took hold of her books. “Oh, can you?” she said.

There was a wide, deep mud puddle at the edge of the lot. With all her strength she gave Eddie a sharp, sudden push in the chest. He lost his balance and toppled backward with a yell of alarm. He landed square in the middle of the puddle.

“Try standing on your head in that, you—you sneak!” Irene snapped.

Danny and Joe, who had been hiding behind an automobile on the other side of the street, stepped out.

“Our timetable worked out fine.” Danny chuckled. “That was right on the button.”

Then he crossed the street and took Irene's books.

Eddie, spluttering and dripping, glared up from the puddle. “You planned this,” he howled at Dan. “She didn't really want me to walk her home, or—or anything!”

“That's right. I planned it,” Danny said. “And when Irene pushed you into the puddle we knew you'd given yourself away. So you spied on us and found out about the computer, eh? And you ran to tell Miss Arnold. Well, from now on keep your nose out of our business, see?”

“Yeah,” Joe put in. “We're working on an automatic nose nipper.”

Eddie was too furious to reply. Irene turned her back on him and walked off between Joe and Danny.

Eddie scrambled out of the puddle with great difficulty. A few moments later, as he was trying to wipe the mud from his face, George Bessel came along with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Eddie!” he called. “What you doing? Making mud pies is for little kids.”

“Boy! Are you comical,” Eddie snarled.

“No kidding, what are you doing?”

“Flying over the Rockies in a balloon.” Eddie wrung out his handkerchief and jammed it into his pocket. “Danny Dunn got me into this. That's what happened. But I'll get even with him.”

“How?”

“I'll mess up that machine of his so that he'll never do any more homework on it. I'll fix him. “

“How can you do that?” George asked.

“I'm not such a dope in science as they think,” said Eddie, grimly. “You heard what they were talking about when we were watching them, the other day.”

“I heard, but I didn't understand it.”

“Well, I understood all right. Just wait, Danny Dunn. Just—you—wait.”

CHAPTER TEN

Trouble in Paradise

Miss Arnold was giving the homework assignment. As usual, Danny jotted it down with a smile. But suddenly his heart gave a bump, and he sat up straight in his seat.

“Danny Dunn,” Miss Arnold was saying, “and Irene Miller and Joe Pearson. You needn't write down this assignment.”

Danny threw a quick glance at Irene. Then he said, “Why not, Miss Arnold?”

“I‘ve got some special work for you three. Come up to my desk right after class. That's all, people. Gather up your things.”

The bell rang. As the others trooped out, with many backward looks, the three friends went silently to Miss Arnold's desk. They stood in a row wondering what was coming. Miss Arnold did not keep them long in suspense.

“Well!” she said. “First of all, I must compliment you on your work. You've been doing so well that I'm giving you special homework, for extra credit.”

Danny gulped. “Sp-special homework?”

“Oh, yes. I'm sure none of you will have any trouble doing it.”

She opened her desk drawer and took out half a dozen books. “These are first-year high school algebra and history books. Please do the first five examples in the algebra book, and answer the first eight questions in the history. By tomorrow.”

She handed them each two books.

“But—” Danny began.

“And by the way,” said Miss Arnold, in a sugary tone, “I want to commend you all for the neatness of your typing, in your past homework. I do hope you'll keep it up. It makes the work so much easier for me to read.”

“But—” said Danny.

“Now, Danny, I know what you're going to say,” said Miss Arnold. “You're going to say that you want more to do than just these few problems. Well, we'll see how you make out, and perhaps I'll give you even more homework by next week.”

“Ulp!” said Danny.

“Well, that's all, I guess,” Miss Arnold said, brightly. “Good-by.”

The three plodded gloomily out.

“Fine!” said Joe. “That does it. Oooh, am I sick. I think I'm going to die.”

“Oh, stop it,” Danny said. “All we've got to do is feed the material from these books into Minny.”

“But Dan, it isn't as simple as that,” Irene protested. “You know that in order to analyze and program our questions, we have to know how to solve them ourselves.”

Joe groaned. “What a happy thought! You're talking to a dead boy. We'll have to study these two books. And by tomorrow!”

“Cut it out,” said Danny. “We don't really have to study them. We just have to read them enough to understand what's in them.”

Irene looked puzzled. “What's the difference?”

“What do you mean, what's the difference?” Danny said. “The difference is that—well, the difference is— Hm.…”

“Oh my poor head,” Joe moaned. “I'll never be able to hold all this in it. Women! I told you they were nothing but trouble.”

“Joe, you stop that,” Irene said, whirling to face him. “Just because Miss Arnold—”

“I'm not talking about Miss Arnold,” Joe retorted. “If your parents had had a boy instead of a girl, all this would never have happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny stared at his friend.

“Well, look. If Irene had been a boy, he wouldn't have been good-looking. He'd have been just another ugly kid. And you probably wouldn't have become friends with him. You probably would've had a fight. So you never would have helped him with his homework. So then you never would have had the idea of using the computer. So then we wouldn't be in this jam.”

“You're kidding!” Danny said.

“I am, huh? I may be dead, but I'm not kidding. It's her fault. And believe me, I'm through. I'm not going to have anything more to do with her—I'm liable to find myself doing college homework.”

“If that's the way you feel,” Irene said coldly, “you needn't talk to me again.”

Danny looked from one to the other, with real pain. This was the worst sort of complication: his best friends quarreling so bitterly. Somehow, it always seemed that when he jumped into something without thinking of the consequences—as for instance when he had jumped into the idea of using the computer for homework—then all sorts of unforeseen and unhappy things resulted.

“If it's anybody's fault, it's mine,” he broke in. “I'm the one who started it. Now, come on. We can't afford to fight, we've got too much to do. Maybe you can stay at my house for dinner, Joe-”

“Oh, I'm sure he doesn't want to work with the computer any more,” Irene said. “It would mean he'd have to be in the same room with me.”

“I'm stuck with this homework,” Joe said, sullenly. “I've got to work with the computer.”

Danny sighed. “Let's go,” he said. “And I wish you two would quit snapping at each other.”

Irene turned to him. “You can tell your friend,” she said haughtily, “that I'll work with him. But until he learns to be polite, I don't have to talk to him.”

The atmosphere in the Professor's laboratory that afternoon was definitely strained as a result of this quarrel. Joe stayed for dinner, and he and Danny didn't have much to say to each other during the meal. Afterward, Irene came back to the lab and they continued with their work, speaking only as much as was necessary.

They had to feed the history and algebra facts into the machine's memory banks, and then give all this material code numbers so that the machine could find it when they asked for it. They had to coach each other on the information contained in the books so that they'd understand the nature of the questions and problems involved, and be able to give Minny the proper instructions when they wanted answers to questions.

They grew sulkier and gloomier and wearier, as it got later. They could not finish both books but had to be content with doing about twenty pages of each. They decided to leave the rest for future sessions. Then they programmed the homework Miss Arnold had given them—the first five examples in algebra and the first eight questions in the history book—and flopped into chairs to rest while Minny ran off three copies of each.

Irene and Joe took their copies.

“So long, Danny,” Joe said. “I've got to get home. Tell your friend, Irene, that I said good night.”

“Oh, Joe. This is silly.” Irene burst out. “Let's make it up. I will if you will.”