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to go.”

“Please don’t do that,” Tom pleaded. “I’ve never been inside a theater. Make us peel potatoes, clean the washroom, give us demerits, anything you want, but please, Father, let us go to the theater.”

 

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“The punishment stands,” Father Rodriguez said. “You boys are excused.”

“It isn’t fair,” Tom cried, “to give us such a severe punishment just because I can’t eat liver.”

Father Rodriguez leaned forward on his desk. “What has liver to do with your raiding the kitchen?” he asked.

“I can’t eat any kind of liver,” Tom said. “I hate the sight, smell, and taste of it. And I got so hungry on Thursday nights that I talked the fellows into raiding the kitchen with me.”

“Do you mean to tell me that the only reason you raided the kitchen was because you were hungry?” Father Rodriguez asked.

“Yes, Father,” Tom answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t like liver?” the superintendent asked.

“What good would it do?” Tom asked. “There is no prayer you could say for me that would make me eat liver.”

“I never want any boy in this academy to go to bed hungry,” Father Rodriguez said. “I shall arrange with Father Petrie to give you fried eggs on Thursdays for sup-per, Thomas. And I don’t think I can punish you, because I’ve been remiss in my duties as a superintendent and priest. I should have made certain all the boys were eating the food served them at every meal.”

“Does that mean we can go to the theater Saturday?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” Father Rodriguez said. “There will be no punishment for any of you. You are excused.”

“Thank you. Father,” Tom said. “Thank you very much.”

 

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Tom’s three friends patted him on the back after they were out of the superintendent’s office.

“Your great brain did it again,” Jerry said. “You talked Father Rodriguez right out of punishing us.”

“It wasn’t my great brain at all,” Tom said. It was the first time he hadn’t given his great brain all the credit. “I simply told the truth,”

Jerry grinned. “Then just go on telling the truth and maybe that will make a Protestant out of Father Rodriguez,” he said. “That would be one way to get rid of him.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, “especially since it looks as if the Pope isn’t going to answer your letter,”

Tom couldn’t help feeling that maybe Father Rodriguez wasn’t such a bad fellow after all. “Just what makes you think another superintendent would be any better?” he asked.

“Anybody,” Jerry said, “would be better than Father Rodriguez.”

“I am beginning to wonder after what just happened,” Tom said. “It is like my father used to say when we went on a fishing and camping trip and the road was bad. There is always a worse road than the one you are traveling on.”

Tom was just as excited as the rest of the boys when they entered the Salt Lake Theater for the Saturday matinee accompanied by Father Rodriguez and Father O’Malley.

The theater was famous for the plays, operas, con-certs, and vaudeville shows held there. Father Rodriguez had chosen a week when a vaudeville show was playing. Tom was thrilled with the theater itself and with the show.

 

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There were acrobats, a trained-seal act, a song-and-dance team, a comedian, a quartet, some Swiss bell ringers, and, as the headliner, a mind-reading act called the Mental Marvel.

It was this act all the fellows liked best. The Mental Marvel had two people from the audience come up on the stage and blindfold him-Then his assistant mingled with the audience, asking people to hand him some article they had on their person. The assistant would hold the article in his hand and ask the Mental Marvel to read his mind and tell the audience what it was-And just like a shot the Mental Marvel would say it was a watch, a billfold, a pair of glasses, or whatever the article happened to be.

Tom was as mystified as the other boys until he put his great brain to work. He was positive that no one could read another person’s mind. There had to be some trick to it. He watched and listened very carefully to every word the assistant said.

The fellows were talking about the Mental Marvel all the way back to the dormitory.

“The Mental Marvel’s brain makes your great brain look about the size of a pea,” Rory Flynn said to Tom. “Just imagine being able to read other people’s minds.”

“If the Mental Marvel could really read minds,” Tom said, “he wouldn’t be traveling around the country in a vaudeville show. He could be making a fortune.”

“How?” Rory asked.

“Many ways,” Tom said. “He could become a gam-bler and know what cards the other players are holding.”

“Not if he is an honest man,” Rory said. “You are just jealous because you can’t read minds like the Mental Marvel.”

 

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“Jerry and I could do the same thing with a little practice.” Tom said.

“Talk is cheap,” Rory said. “I’ll bet you can’t.”

Tom was pretty confident he knew how it was done. But he wanted to make sure before he put up any hard cash. And he knew if he acted reluctant that would make Rory and the other kids all the more eager to bet. His great brain and money-loving heart were working like sixty to turn this to his financial advantage.

“Just have your money ready after supper on Monday night,” Tom said.

Tom walked over to his bunk and sat down with his three friends.

“Boy, oh, boy,” Jerry said. “You sure stuck your neck out that time. You know you can’t read my mind, even with your great brain.”

“Nobody can read another person’s mind,” Tom said. “But my great brain did figure out how the Mental Marvel and his assistant put on their mind-reading act. I just need to work out the details. Phil will be visiting his folks tomorrow so you and Tony meet me in our usual spot in the yard. I’ll have it all figured out by then.”

When Tom met Jerry and Tony under their usual tree the next afternoon he had a notebook with him.

“First,” he said. “let me explain how the Mental Mar-vel knew what the assistant held in his hand. I noticed that each time, the assistant asked a slightly different question. They used a code word for each article. For example, when the assistant said, ‘Please read my mind, Mental Marvel, and tell me what I hold in my hand,’ the code word ‘please’ meant it was a watch. My great brain has figured out dif-120

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ferent words I can begin a sentence with. All you’ve got to do. Jerry, is to memorize those words and the articles they are code words for. I made up two lists, one for each of us.”

He tore a sheet from the notebook and handed it to Jerry. On it he had printed the following:

CAN means it is a CATECHISM TELL means it is a ROSARY OH means it is HOLY MEDALS THIS means it is a PAIR OF GLASSES WHAT means it is a RING YOU means it is a WATCH SEARCH means it is MONEY READ means it is a LETTER IF means it is a POCKETKNIFE IT means it is a CRUCIFIX i means it is a PENCIL WILL means it is a COMB

Jerry looked at the list. “What if it is something we don’t have a code word for?” he asked.

“We’ve got a code word for just about everything the fellows would have on them at the theater,” Tom said. “But if one of them does hold out something we don’t have a code word for I’ll do the same thing the assistant did and just pass them by. Start memorizing the code words now. And after supper go to the chapel where it is nice and quiet and do some more memorizing instead of praying. We will meet here tomorrow after school for a rehearsal.”

Tom knew he could memorize the code words in no time. He had picked Jerry to be his partner because the

 

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red-headed boy had a better memory than Phil or Tony. The four of them met in the yard on Monday after school. Tom tested Jerry until he was satisfied Jerry knew all the code words. Then he and Jerry began rehearsing sentences beginning with code words. By the time they returned to the dormitory to wash up for supper Tom knew that both he and Jerry had the parts they would play down pat.

After supper Tom waited until the four kids assigned to the kitchen and dining room were finished before he began the demonstration. His money-loving heart didn’t want to miss any bets. He had put the paper bag containing the profits from the candy store under his pillow. He was now ready to lead the lamb to the slaughter. He removed the bag.

“Do you still want to bet, Rory, that Jerry and I can’t do what the Mental Marvel and his assistant did?” he asked.

“Sure,” Rory said. “But you must do it exactly like they did it.”

“I will let you blindfold Jerry and place him at one end of the dormitory,” Tom said. “And to make it even tougher you can make him face the wall. I wil! stand at the other end of the dormitory. You fellows will hand me articles you had with you at the theater. I will ask Jerry to identify them. If he misses one article I lose the bet. Now, how many of you fellows want to bet besides Rory?”

Those kids must have thought they had a sure thing. Every one of them except Tom’s three friends raised their hands.

“Phil,” Tom said, “you go to the top of the stairway

 

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and act as lookout. Tony, get a notebook and write down the name of each fellow and how much he bets.”

Tom then dumped his profits from the candy store onto his bunk. “Get in line now to bet.” he said. “You tell Tony how much you want to put down. He’ll write your name and the amount and hand the money to me. I’ll drop it in the paper bag and then cover each bet with my own money. After all bets are made, my brother Sweyn will hold the stakes. If you fellows win, he can take the notebook and pay each of you double the amount you bet from the paper bag. Any questions?”

The boys lined up like sheep waiting to be sheared by The Great Brain. Rory was first in line.

“I wish I had more than forty cents to bet,” he said.

“So do I,” Tom said. “So do I.”

Sweyn was next and bet fifty cents. “This is one time your great brain and big mouth are going to cost you plenty,” he said. “A joke is a joke but you can still call it off.”

“If you are so sure it can’t be done,” Tom said, “why don’t you bet a dollar?”

“Because fifty cents is all I’ve got,” Sweyn said.

By the time all bets had been placed, there was more than ten dollars in the paper bag. Tom stood to make a fortune if he or Jerry didn’t make a mistake. And he stood to lose a fortune if they did. If that happened his money-loving heart would break wide open.

“All right, Rory,” he said. “Take Jerry to the end of the dormitory, blindfold him, and face him against the wall. The rest of you get ready to hand me articles you had on you at the theater.”

 

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“Wait for me,” Rory said. “I want to be first because I know that will be the end of the demonstration.”

A few minutes later the mind-reading demonstration was ready to begin. Rory handed Tom his rosary.

“Tell me, Mental Marvel, what I am holding in my hand,” Tom said.

“A rosary,” Jerry answered.

There was a gasp of astonishment from all the fellows except Sweyn. “It was just a lucky guess,” he said, holding out his watch.

Tom took it. “You will have to read my mind. Mental Marvel, to tell me what this is,” he said.

“A watch,” Jerry answered.

Larry Williams handed Tom his pocket-sized catechism.

“Can you read my mind. Mental Marvei. and tell me what this article is?” Tom asked.

“A catechism.” Jerry answered.

By this time the fellows who had bet were staring at Tom as if he was the devi! himself. He took a letter from the next student.

“Read my mind. Mental Marvel, and tell me what I hold in my hand.” he said.

“A letter,” Jerry answered.

Billy Daniels removed a ring from his finger and handed it to Tom.

“What am I holding in my hand now, Mental Mar-vel?” Tom asked.

“A ring,” Jerry answered.

Willie Connors handed Tom his pocketknife.

“If you can tell me what I hold in my hand now,” Tom said, “you are truly a Mental Marvel.”

 

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“A pocketknife,” Jerry answered.

Tom returned the pocketknife. “That ends the demonstration,” he said. “Jerry and I have proved how the Mental Marvel and his assistant did their mind-reading act, and I’ve won all bets.”

Harold Adams took off his glasses and held them out. “Just one more, please,” he said.

Tom took the glasses. “This is the last time you have to read my mind. Mental Marvel, and tell what I hold in my hand,” he said.

“A pair of glasses,” Jerry answered.

Tom gave the glasses back. “That ends the demonstration for sure,” he said. In his letter he wrote me that he had never seen such a bunch of open-mouthed kids. They couldn’t have been more astonished if he and Jerry had jumped out the window and started flying around like birds.

He told Jerry to take off the blindfold and then got the paper bag with the money in it from Sweyn.

‘T figured Rory and the others would bet,” he said, “but I didn’t think my own brother would be that foolish.”

Poor Sweyn was still in a daze, not only from what he’d seen and heard but also from losing half a dollar. “I still don’t believe it,” he said. “How did you do it?”

Rory nodded his head. “You have won our money,” he said, “and that entitles us to know how it was done,”

“I don’t remember promising I would tell you how it was done,” Tom said. His money-loving heart told him to make them pay to find out. But his great brain reminded him that this was a good time to get even with the eighth graders for the torture tunnel. And anyway he had won all their money.

 

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“The only way you are ever going to find out how it was done,” he said, “is for the eighth graders to go through the torture tunne] of the seventh graders.”

Rory folded his arms on his chest. “I’m not going to let you little seventh graders paddle me,” he said.

Sweyn grabbed Rory’s arm. “Yes you are,” he said. “It is worth it to find out how it was done.”

Larry Williams nodded his head. “Sweyn is right,” he said. “And if you don’t want all the eighth graders giving you the silent treatment you’ll do as Tom says.”

BOOK: John Fitzgerald GB 04 Great Bra
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