John Thomas Stuart XI got home shortly before dinner time, having already dropped Betty Sorensen at her home. He noticed, as he landed, that Lummox was not in sight, but he assumed that his pet was in his shed. His mind was not on Lummox, but on the age-old fact that females do not operate by logic, at least as logic is understood by males.
He was planning to enter Western Tech; Betty wanted them both to attend the state university. He had pointed out that he could not get the courses he wanted at State U.; Betty had insisted that he could and had looked up references to prove her point. He had rebutted by saying that it was not the name of a course that mattered, but who taught it. The discussion had fallen to pieces when she had refused to concede that he was an authority.
He had absent-mindedly unstrapped his harness copter, while dwelling on the illogic of the feminine mind, and was racking it in the hallway, when his mother burst into his presence. “John Thomas! Where have you been?”
He tried to think what he could have slipped on now. It was a bad sign when she called him “John Thomas”. . . “John” or “Johnnie” was okay, or even “Johnnie Boy.” But “John Thomas” usually meant that he had been accused, tried, and convicted in absentia.
“Huh? Why, I told you at lunch, Mum. Out hopping with Betty. We flew over to. . .”
“Never mind that! Do you know what that beast has done?”
Now he had it. Lummox. He hoped it wasn’t Mum’s garden. Maybe Lum had just knocked over his own house again. If so, Mum would level off presently. Maybe he had better build a new one, bigger. “What’s the trouble?” he asked cautiously.
“‘What’s the trouble?’ What isn’t the trouble? John Thomas, this time you simply will have to get rid of it. This is the last straw.”
“Take it easy, Mum,” he said hastily. “We can’t get rid of Lum. You promised Dad.”
She made no direct answer. “With the police calling every ten minutes and that great dangerous beast rampaging around and. . .”
“Huh? Wait a minute, MunI, Lum isn’t dangerous; he’s gentle as a kitten. What happened?”
“Everything!”
He gradually drew out of her some of the details. Lummox had gone for a stroll; that much was clear. John Thomas hoped without conviction that Lummox had not got any iron or steel while he was out; iron had such an explosive effect on his metabolism. There was the time Lummox had eaten that second-hand Buick . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s words. and Mrs. Donahue is simply furious! And well she might be. . . her prize roses.”
Oh oh, that was bad. He tried to recall the exact amount in his savings account. He would have to apologize, too, and think of ways to butter up the old biddy. In the meantime he would beat Lummox’s ears with an ax; Lummox knew about roses, there was no excuse.
“Look, Mum, I’m awfully sorry. I’ll go right out and pound some sense into his thick head. When I get through with him, he won’t dare sneeze without permission.” John Thomas started edging around her.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Huh? Out to talk with Lum, of course. When I get through with him. . .”
“Don’t be sffly. He isn’t here.”
“Huh? Where is he?” John Thomas swiftly rearranged his prayers to hope that Lummox hadn’t found very much iron. The Buick hadn’t really been Lummox’s fault and anyhow it had belonged to John Thomas, but. . .
“No telling where he is now. Chief Dreiser said. . .”
“The police are after Lummox?”
“You can just bet they are, young man! The entire safety patrol is after him. Mr. Dreiser wanted me to come downtown and take him home, but I told him we would have to get you to handle that beast.”
“But Mother, Lummox would have obeyed you. He always does. Why did Mr. Dreiser take him downtown? He knows Lum belongs here. Being taken downtown would frighten Lum. The poor baby is timid; he wouldn’t like. . .”