The Cricket in Times Square (5 page)

“But high gods, who live in palace at summit of heaven, would not let Hsi Shuai be killed. More precious to them than kings was this one man who spoke only truth. So when wicked men raise swords above Hsi Shuai, high gods change him into cricket. And man who spoke only truth and knew all things now sings songs that no man understands and all men love. But high gods understand, and smile. For to them beautiful song of cricket is song of one who still speaks truth and knows all things.”

Sai Fong stopped speaking and smoked his pipe silently. Mario sat still too, looking at the cricket cage. He was thinking about the story and how much he wanted the cage. In his matchbox Chester Cricket had listened carefully. He was very touched by the tale of Hsi Shuai. Of course he couldn't tell if it was true, but he sort of believed it, because he personally had always thought that there was more to his song than just chirping. As usual when he didn't know what else to do, he rubbed one wing across the other. A single clear note sounded in the shop.

Sai Fong lifted his head. A smile curled up the ends of his ancient lips. “Ah so,” he whispered. “Cricket has understood.” He puffed a few more times.

Mario wanted to ask him how much the cage cost, but he was afraid to.

“Because this cricket so remarkable,” said Sai Fong, “I sell cage for fifteen cents.”

Mario sighed with relief. He could afford that. In his pocket he found a nickel and a dime, all that was left of his weekly allowance, which was a quarter. “I'll take it, Mr. Fong,” he said and handed Sai Fong the money.

“I also make present free,” said Sai Fong. He went behind the counter and took a little bell, no bigger than a honeybee, out of a drawer. With a piece of thread he hung it up inside the cage. Mario put Chester into the cage. The cricket jumped up and knocked against the bell. It tinkled faintly. “Sound like littlest bell in Silver Temple, far off up Yangtse River,” said Sai Fong.

Mario thanked him for the bell and the story and everything. As he was about to leave the shop, Sai Fong said, “You want Chinese fortune cookie?”

“I guess so,” said Mario. “I never had one.”

Sai Fong took down a can from the shelf. It was full of fortune cookies—thin wafers that had been folded so there was an air space in each one. Mario bit into a cookie and found a piece of paper inside. He read what it said out loud:
GOOD LUCK IS COMING YOUR WAY. BE READY
.

“Ha he!”
laughed Sai Fong—two high notes of joy. “Very good advice. You go now. Always be ready for happiness. Goodbye.”

SEVEN

The Cricket Cage

That same night, after the Bellinis had gone home, Chester was telling Harry and Tucker about his trip to Chinatown. The cat and the mouse were sitting on the shelf outside, and Chester Cricket was crouched under the bell in the cage. Every minute or so, Tucker would get up and walk around to the other side of the pagoda. He was overcome with admiration for it.

“And Mr. Fong gave Mario a fortune cookie too,” Chester was saying.

“I'm very fond of Chinese food myself,” said Harry Cat. “I often browse through the garbage cans down in Chinatown.”

Tucker Mouse stopped gaping at the cricket cage long enough to say, “Once I thought of living down there. But those Chinese make funny dishes. They make soup out of bird's nests and stew out of shark fins. They could make a soufflé out of a mouse. I decided to stay away.”

A low rumble of a chuckle came from Harry Cat's throat. “Listen to the mouse,” he said and gave Tucker a pat on the back that sent him rolling over and over.

“Easy, Harry, easy,” said Tucker, picking himself up. “You don't know your own strength.” He stood up on his hind legs and looked in through the red-painted bars of the cage. “What a palace,” he murmured. “Beautiful! You could feel like a king living in a place like this.”

“Yes,” said Chester, “but I'm not so keen on staying in a cage. I'm more used to tree stumps and holes in the ground. It makes me sort of nervous to be locked in here.”

“Do you want to come out?” asked Harry. He sprung one of his nails out of the pad of his right forepaw and lifted the latch of the gate to the cage.

Chester pushed the gate and it swung open. He jumped out. “It's a relief to be free,” he said, jumping around the shelf. “There's nothing like freedom.”

“Say, Chester,” said Tucker, “could I go in for a minute? I was never in a pagoda before.”

“Go right ahead,” said Chester.

Tucker scrambled through the gate into the cage and pranced all around inside it. He lay down, first on one side, then on the other, and then on his back. “If only I had a silk robe now,” he said, standing up on his hind legs again and resting one paw on a bar. “I feel like the Emperor of China. How do I look, Harry?”

“You look like a mouse in a trap,” said Harry Cat.

“Every mouse should end up in a trap so nice,” said Tucker.

“Do you want to sleep in the cage?” asked Chester.

“Oh—could I!” exclaimed the mouse. His idea of luxury was to spend a night in such surroundings.

“Sure,” said Chester. “I prefer the matchbox anyway.”

“There's only one thing,” said Tucker, stamping with his left hind leg. “This floor. It's a little hard to sleep on.”

“I'll go over and get a bunch of paper from the drain pipe,” volunteered Harry Cat.

“No, it'll make a mess,” said Tucker. “We don't want to get Chester in trouble with the Bellinis.” He hesitated. “Um—maybe we could find something here.”

“How about a piece of Kleenex,” suggested Chester. “That's nice and soft.”

“Kleenex would be good,” said Tucker, “but I was wondering—” He paused again.

“Come on, Tucker,” said Harry Cat. “You've got something on your mind. Let's have it.”

“Well,” Tucker began, “I sort of thought that if there were any dollar bills in the cash register—”

Harry burst out laughing. “You might know!” he said to Chester. “Who but this mouse would want to sleep on dollar bills?”

Chester jumped into the cash register drawer, which was open as usual. “There's a few dollars in here,” he called up.

“Plenty to make a mattress,” said Tucker Mouse. “Pass some in, please.”

Chester passed the first dollar bill up to Harry Cat, who took it over to the cage and pushed it through the gate. Tucker took hold of one end of the bill and shook it out like a blanket. It was old and rumply.

“Careful you don't rip it,” said Harry.

“I wouldn't rip it,” said Tucker. “This is one mouse who knows the value of a dollar.”

Harry brought over the second dollar. It was newer and stiffer than the first. “Let me see,” said Tucker. He lifted a corner of each bill, one in either paw. “This new one can go on the bottom—I like a crispy, clean sheet—and I'll pull the old one over for a cover. Now, a pillow is what I need. Please look in the cash register again.”

Harry and Chester searched the compartments of the open drawer. There was a little loose change, but not much else.

“How about a fifty-cent piece?” said Harry.

“Too flat,” answered Tucker Mouse.

The rear half of the drawer was still inside the cash register. Chester crawled back. It was dark and he couldn't see where he was going. He felt around until his head bumped against something. Whatever it was, it seemed to be big and round. Chester pushed and shoved and finally got it back out into the dim light of the newsstand. It was one of Mama Bellini's earrings, shaped like a sea shell, with sparkling little stones all over it.

“Would an earring do?” he shouted to Tucker.

“Well, I don't know,” Tucker said.

“It looks as if it is covered with diamonds,” said Harry Cat.

“Perfect!” called Tucker. “Send it along.”

Harry lifted the earring into the cage. Tucker examined it carefully, like a jeweler. “I think these are fake diamonds,” he said at last.

“Yes, but it's still very pretty,” said Chester, who had jumped up beside them.

“I guess it'll do,” said Tucker. He lay down on his side on the new dollar bill, rested his head on the earring, and pulled the old dollar up over him. Chester and Harry heard him draw a deep breath of contentment. “I'm sleeping on money inside a palace,” he said. “It's a dream come true.”

Harry Cat purred his chuckle. “Good night, Chester,” he said. “I'm going back to the drain pipe, where I can stretch out.” He jumped to the floor.

“Good night, Harry,” Chester called.

Soft and silent as a shadow, Harry slipped out the opening in the side of the newsstand and glided over to the drain pipe. Chester hopped into his matchbox. He had gotten to like the feeling of the Kleenex. It was almost like the spongy wood of his old tree stump—and felt much more like home than the cricket cage. Now they each had their own place to sleep.

“Good night, Tucker,” Chester said.

“'Night, Chester,” Tucker answered.

Chester Cricket burrowed down deeper into the Kleenex. He was beginning to enjoy life in New York. Just before he fell asleep, he heard Tucker Mouse sighing happily in the cage.

EIGHT

Tucker's Life's Savings

Chester Cricket was having a dream. In his dream he was sitting on top of his stump back in Connecticut, eating a leaf from the willow tree. He would bite off a piece of leaf, chew it up, and swallow it, but for some reason it didn't taste as good as usual. There was something dry and papery about it, and it had a bitter flavor. Still, Chester kept eating, hoping that it would begin to taste better.

A storm came up in his dream. The wind blew clouds of dust across the meadow. They swirled around his stump, and Chester began to sneeze because the dust got in his nose. But he still held on to the leaf. And then he sneezed such a big sneeze that it woke him up.

Chester looked around him. He had been walking in his sleep and he was sitting on the edge of the cash register. The storm had been a gust of air that blew into the newsstand when the shuttle pulled up to the station. He was still choking from the dirt that flew around him. Chester looked down at his two front legs, half expecting to find the willow leaf. But it was no leaf he was holding. It was a two-dollar bill and he had already eaten half of it.

He dropped the bill and leaped over to the cricket cage, where Tucker Mouse was sleeping peacefully. Chester shook the silver bell furiously; it rang like a fire alarm. Tucker jumped out from under his blanket of dollar bills and ran around the cage shouting, “Help! Fire! Murder! Police!”

Then he realized where he was and sat down panting. “What is the matter with you, Chester?” he said. “I could have died from fright.”

“I just ate half of a two-dollar bill,” said Chester.

Tucker stared at him with disbelief. “You did
what?
” he asked.

“Yes,” said Chester, “look.” He fetched the ruined two-dollar bill from the cash register. “I dreamed it was a leaf and I ate it.”

“Oh oh oh oh,” moaned Tucker Mouse. “Not a one-dollar bill—not even a one-dollar bill and a fifty-cent piece—
two dollars
you had to eat! And from the Bellinis too—people who hardly make two dollars in two days.”

“What am I going to do?” asked Chester.

“Pack your bags and go to California,” said Tucker.

Chester shook his head. “I can't,” he said. “They've been so good to me—I can't run away.”

Tucker Mouse shrugged his shoulders. “Then stay and take the rap,” he said. He crept out of the cage and examined the remains of the money. “There's still half of it left. Maybe we could put Scotch Tape along the edge and pass it off as a one-dollar bill.”