Rufus M. (4 page)

classes. "A little girl in Room Three and she has made three washcloths!" And all the big girls who had not yet made three would squirm in their chairs and resolve to do better. Yes, she made three, but Rufus did work hard on his one and at last he finished it. In fact, all the washcloths were finished now. Rufus's was very dirty, especially the beginning of it that he had knit the first. The end that he had just finished was not quite so dirty because the string inside the ball was still fairly clean.

Mama said she hoped she would be able to boil the dirt out of it and make it good and white for some soldier. Rufus watched her wash it and wash it. Finally it did get fairly white except for the first rows that Rufus had had to undo so many times in the beginning. These remained slightly gray. "But it's pure," said Mama, "because I boiled it."

Rufus then took it back to school. The teacher, Miss Wells, told the class to fold their washcloths and she passed around little squares of paper for them to print their names on and pin to their own washcloths.

RUFUS M. ROOM THREE, he printed. Of course, he could have printed his whole name, but he had gotten in the habit of writing just M. for Moffat in the library that day long ago and he still signed his name that way.

Why did the teacher ask the class to sign their washcloths? Rufus wondered. Was there going to be a new place on their report cards marked "washcloths," where she would give them a good or a bad? Or, and this was more likely, he thought, did a soldier want to know who knit his washcloth so he could write a letter to the fellow who did? Rufus might get a letter someday from some soldier saying he liked this loose washcloth.

Two girls, Emma Ryder and another, then collected the washcloths and folded them in neat piles on the tables in the front of the room. Rufus thought he could see his about halfway down the outside pile. Because his was bigger than the others and the color more of a pearly gray, it was easy to recognize.

"There," said the teacher. "Now tomorrow I'll send them all over to the Red Cross and the Red Cross will send them overseas."

The class then sat with hands folded, hoping she would pass around another ball of string instead of the arithmetic books. But she didn't. She passed around the books.

Rufus was very happy to have finished his washcloth and now left-handed and right-handed washcloths alike were up there on the table and the soldiers would have them soon.

For a time Rufus was content with the thought that the Red Cross was going to take care of the matter of sending his washcloth overseas. He was content until that afternoon. Then the teacher said she had a surprise for them. The whole class, in fact the whole school, was going to march to the railroad station to wave good-bye to a trainload of soldiers who were off to camp.

Good,
thought Rufus.
Here's a chance to give the washcloths to the soldiers right now. They won't have to wait until they get over there.

But the teacher did not think of that. She left the washcloths right where they were, and furthermore she told Rufus that she did not have time for questions now when he raised his hand to ask about this. "Girls in line," she said. "Boys in line." She did not mention washcloths. She only gave instructions. "Everybody stay in line all the way to the railroad station." Then she had the monitors pass around the flags and she gave the girls bouquets of flowers to toss to the soldiers.

The children stood in line in the hall. The lines stretched back into the cloakroom. All up and down the corridor other classes were lining up outside of their rooms. The youngest classes were to march out first, the highest last. Room One marched out now with Mr. Pennypepper, the Superintendent, leading in the very front. Room Two was warming up. "One, two. One, two," said the teacher.

Rufus's class would march out next. Rufus had become more and more bothered about the washcloths. Here they were, all of Room Three, marching to the station to see the soldiers off and they weren't taking the washcloths with them. This seemed foolish to Rufus. Why had they made these washcloths for the soldiers? For the soldiers to use, of course. The sooner they had them the better, he thought. It was funny the teacher didn't think of this.

"Ev-ry-bo-dy keep-in step, shoulders back, eyes a-head." That's what Miss Wells kept intoning, and it was really all she seemed to have time to think about.

Rufus was sure that it was a mistake to leave the washcloths in the pile on the table. He guessed he'd go in and get his. He guessed he'd give it to a soldier himself this afternoon. Quick! Before his class started moving! Now was a good chance because Miss Wells had stepped over to have a hurried word with the teacher of Room Four before giving the order to march. Rufus darted back into the classroom and over to the table where the washcloths for the soldiers were stacked. He pulled out one with a very dingy fringe along the edge. It looked familiar to him and he hoped it was his. It was! Hurrah! He stuffed it in his coat pocket.

As Rufus stepped back into his place in line, the teacher clapped her hands at him and shook her head disapprovingly, but that was all she a did. And now he had his washcloth to give right to some soldier.

Room Three started to march out. The children marched straight down the long corridor and out the front door, not the side door children usually came in and out of, but the big front door. Ordinarily only Mr. Pennypepper and the important teachers used the big front door. The only time children were allowed to come in and go out this way was during fire drill; and occasionally, if a child were sent to the Board of Health in the middle of the morning to see if he had the measles, he could use this door.

As Rufus's class marched down the granite steps, they could see Mr. Pennypepper leading the way all by himself at the head of Room One, and looking neither to the left nor the right, except at street corners, when he held up his hand and made all traffic stop. But Rufus couldn't see Mr. Pennypepper anymore once he had reached the sidewalk, except when he led the long column around the corners.

Now they were all marching down the street toward the railroad tracks. Rufus hoped they would march down under the bridge and up and out the other side. One thing he really loved to do was to be under the bridge when a train raced past on the tracks above. He liked to walk under the bridge anyway and smell the dampness, for there was usually a trickle of water oozing from the rough rock wall. If a train were not going past he could roar, himself, and fill the space up with a tremendous never-ending echo.

But Mr. Pennypepper did not lead the school down and under the bridge. He led the way up the gently sloping pebbly hill on this side of the tracks. Some of the children began to limp, for they had cinders in their shoes. But they all kept in line. Even the big boys stayed where they were supposed to because the Superintendent, Pop Pennypepper, as he was affectionately called, was leading the procession.

Now Rufus's class started up the slope. Rufus could hear yelling up ahead. Soldiers probably. He patted his pocket and smiled. At any rate the soldiers would have one washcloth before they got over there. If the teacher had divided the pile of washcloths and said, "One half of these goes to the soldiers over there, and one half to the ones that have not left yet," why, that would be more fair, he thought. Well, anyway, they would have one—his. And this happy thought consoled Rufus for the disappointment over not marching under the bridge.

A pebble went through the hole in the bottom of Rufus's shoe and lodged between the layers of leather. He had to walk on his heel. But he didn't think about that. There were the soldiers! All dressed in khaki! A whole trainload of them, yelling and waving their hats and leaning far out of the windows to catch the flowers and shake hands!

All the classes took turns going to the train. First Room One and then Room Two. The little girls were tossing their flowers everywhere—at the soldiers, through the windows, and on the train itself. Rufus stamped up and down impatiently. He could see that when Room Three pressed ahead to the train he could easily give a soldier his washcloth.

He grinned when he thought how surprised the soldier would be. Here the soldiers were, all getting plenty of asters and chrysanthemums, but not one single washcloth so far. As it happened, thought Rufus, wiping his sweaty hand on it, it was good his had turned out to be a big loose one like a fishnet, rather than a small tight one like Emma Ryder's. It would go further.

"Hurry up, Room Two. Get out of the way," he yelled. Nobody could hear him because everybody else was yelling. At last Miss Wells clapped her hands. "All right, Room Three," she said. And boys and girls rushed to the train.

Rufus clutched his washcloth in his fist, not realizing that he was getting it all smudged again. It was good that Mama could not see it now. It still had his name, RUFUS M. ROOM THREE, pinned to it. Rufus did not think to take this off. The teacher had said to put it on, so he left it on.

The boys were waving flags. The girls were throwing flowers. The soldiers were catching them and putting them in their buttonholes, behind their ears, and in their hats. And Rufus was looking for the captain. All the soldiers looked like captains to him. He shook hands with a lot of them and one soldier whisked him up and stood him on the platform. Rufus felt like a soldier himself and in the excitement he forgot about his washcloth. He had it in his hand but he forgot to give it to anybody. Maybe it was because it was in his left hand and everybody was shaking his right. Anyway, when the teacher said, "All right now, Room Three, step back into place," Rufus still had his washcloth in his hand and he still did not remember about it.

He did not remember until Room Three was all lined up across the way again. Then, "Criminenty!" exclaimed Rufus. "I forgot the washcloth!" And before anyone could stop him he bolted out of line and ran back to the train. Nobody was at the train at this moment. Room Three had left it and Room Four was about to come. Only Rufus was at the train. All the soldiers were grinning at him and watching him. The whole school was watching him, in fact. Mr. Pennypepper was rocking from heel to toe.

Many little girls looked from Rufus to Mr. Pennypepper, wondering what he would do. And the boys asked themselves, "Did Rufus have a special part to play in this performance?" And Miss Wells clapped helplessly. To have Rufus alone at the train was not part of the program. But Rufus was not thinking about this. He was only thinking now about what soldier he should give his washcloth to. He wished he had been as good a knitter as Emma Ryder, who held the record for Room Three and in the end had made six! None of the six was as big as his, though.

There was one curly-haired soldier leaning out the window, chewing gum and cheering lustily. Rufus thought he looked sort of like the one who had hoisted him onto the platform. He wore his khaki hat way back on his head and it was a wonder it did not fall off. He was a real husky soldier. Rufus reached his hand up and pressed his washcloth into the soldier's large palm.

"Here," yelled Rufus. "You want it? It's a washcloth."

The soldier's fist closed on it. "Ouch!" he said. "What bit me?"

"Oh," warned Rufus, too late. "Look out for the pin. It's just my name."

"And is this for me?" asked the soldier, holding the washcloth up.

"Yeah. I made it. I knitted it," explained Rufus.

"Gee, thanks!" said the soldier, and he mopped his face with it and gave Rufus a broad grin and a wink.

Rufus smiled. He forgot he was supposed to be in line with Room Three. He did not know that everybody was watching him, including Mr. Pennypepper, and he started to back down the slope, thinking he'd go home now that he'd delivered his washcloth.

His teacher thought differently. "Rufus Moffat, come back here," she called.

But Rufus did not hear her because all the soldiers were having a good time cheering him and he had to wave back. Mr. Pennypepper, who had been holding Room Four at bay until Rufus should be out of the way, and who had been rocking back and forth on his toes, and jingling the keys in his pocket through all this interruption in the plans, hurried after Rufus himself and turned him around.