Cheaper by the dozen - Chapter 1+2+3

Nội dung text: Cheaper by the dozen - Chapter 1+2+3

1. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN CHAPTER 1 By Frank Bunker Gilbreth, Jr. Whistles and Shaving Bristles Back in the days when the "horseless carriage" was a novelty, there were Dad was a tall man, with a large head, jowls, and a Herbert Hoover collar. He twelve red-headed Gilbreth children, and they had more fun than a traveling was no longer slim; he had passed the two-hundred-pound mark during his early circus. They lived in a great, big, wonderful house in the country, with all kinds thirties, and left it so far behind that there were times when he had to resort to of pets, and a large, gray Pierce-Arrow that Dad Gilbreth called "Foolish railway baggage scales to ascertain his displacement. But he carried himself with Carriage." When Dad took the family for a ride, someone was sure to ask,"How the self-assurance of a successful gentleman who was proud of his wife, proud do you feed all those kids?" And Dad would reply:" Well, you know, they come of his family, and proud of his business accomplishments. cheaper by the dozen." Dad had enough gall to be divided into three parts, and the ability and poise to “Gay and light-hearted one of the most amusing books of the season.” backstop the front he placed before the world. He'd walk into a factory like the CHICAGO SUN Zeiss works in Germany or the Pierce Arrow plant in this country and announce that he could speed up production by one-fourth. He'd do it, too. Frank Bunker Gilbreth Jr. (March 17, 1911–February 18, 2001) was an One reason he had so many children—there were twelve of us—was that he American journalist and author. He co-authored, with his sister Ernestine, the was convinced anything he and Mother teamed up on was sure to be a success. autobiographical bestsellers Cheaper by the Dozen (1948; which was adapted as Dad always practiced what he preached, and it was just about impossible to tell a 1950 film) and Belles on Their Toes (1950; which was adapted as a 1952 film). where his scientific management company ended and his family life began. His Under his own name, he wrote multiple additional books, such as Time Out for office was always full of children, and he often took two or three of us, and Happiness and Ancestors of the Dozen, and a long-running newspaper column. sometimes all twelve, on business trips. Frequently, we'd tag along at his side, pencils and notebooks in our hands, when Dad toured a factory which had hired him as an efficiency expert. On the other hand, our house at Montdair, New Jersey, was a sort of school for scientific management and the elimination of wasted motions—or "motion study," as Dad and Mother named it. Dad took moving pictures of us children washing dishes, so that he could figure out how we could reduce our motions and thus hurry through the task. Irregular jobs, such as painting the back porch or removing a stump from the front lawn, were awarded on a low-bid basis. Each child who wanted extra pocket money submitted a sealed bid saying what he would do the job for. The lowest bidder got the contract. Dad installed process and work charts in the bathrooms. Every child old enough to write—and Dad expected his off-spring to start writing at a tender age—was required to initial the charts in the morning after he had brushed his teeth, taken a bath, combed his hair, and made his bed. At night, each child had to weigh himself, plot the figure on a graph, and initial the process charts again after he had done his homework, washed his hands and face, and brushed his teeth. Mother wanted to have a place on the charts for saying prayers, but Dad said as far as he was concerned prayers were voluntary. FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
2. It was regimentation, all right. But bear in mind the trouble most parents have Mother could handle any crisis without losing her composure. in getting just one child off to school, and multiply it by twelve. Some "That's not one of ours, dear," she said. "He belongs next door." regimentation was necessary to prevent bedlam. Of course there were times None of us remembers it, and maybe it never happened. Dad wasn't above when a child would initial the charts without actually having fulfilled the stretching the truth, because there was nothing he liked better than a joke, requirements. However, Dad had a gimlet eye and a terrible swift sword. The particularly if it were on him and even more particularly if it were on Mother. combined effect was that truth usually went marching on. This much is certain, though. There were two red-haired children who lived next Yes, at home or on the job, Dad was always the efficiency expert. He buttoned door, and the Gilbreths all are blondes or red heads. his vest from the bottom up, instead of from the top down, because the bottom- Although he was a strict taskmaster within his home, Dad tolerated no criticism to-top process took him only three seconds, while the top-to-bottom took seven. of the family from outsiders. Once a neighbor complained that a Gilbreth had He even used two shaving brashes to lather his face, because he found that by so called the neighbor's boy a son of an unprintable word. doing he could cut seventeen seconds off his shaving time. For a while he tried "What are the facts of the matter?" Dad asked blandly. And then walked away shaving with two razors, but he finally gave that up. while the neighbor registered a double take. "I can save forty-four seconds," he grumbled, "but I wasted two minutes this But Dad hated unprintable words, and the fact that he had stood up for his son morning putting this bandage on my throat." It wasn't the slashed throat that didn't prevent him from holding full-dress court of inquiry once he got home, really bothered him. It was the two minutes. and administering the called-for punishment. Dad was happiest in a crowd, especially a crowd of kids. Wherever he was, you'd see a string of them trailing him—and the ones with plenty of freckles were pretty sure to be Gilbreths. He had a way with children and knew how to keep them on their toes. He had a respect for them, too, and didn't mind showing it. He believed that most adults stopped thinking the day they left school—and some even before that. "A child, on the other hand, stays impressionable and eager to learn. Catch one young enough," Dad insisted, "and there's no limit to what you can teach." Really, it was love of children more than anything else that made him want a pack of his own. Even with a dozen, he ' 'What's going on ?" "The Gilbreths' house is on fire," he replied, "thank God!" "Shall I call the fire department?" she shouted. "What's the matter, are you crazy?" the husband answered incredulously. Anyway, the fire was put out quickly and there was no need to ask the fire department for help. Dad whistled assembly when he wanted to find out who had been using his razors or who had spilled ink on his desk. He whistled it when he had special Some people used to say that Dad had so many children he couldn't keep track jobs to assign or errands to be run. Mostly, though, he sounded the assembly call of them. Dad himself used to tell a story about one time when Mother went off when he was about to distribute some wonderful surprises, with the biggest and to fill a lecture engagement and left him in charge at home. When Mother best going to the one who reached him first. returned, she asked him if everything had run smoothly. So when we heard him whistle, we never knew whether to expect good news or "Didn't have any trouble except with that one over there," he replied. "But a bad, rags or riches. But we did know for sure we'd better get there in a hurry. spanking brought him into line." Sometimes, as we all came running to the front door, he'd start by being stern. FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
3. "Let me see your nails, all of you," he'd grunt, with his face screwed up in a "It looks something like that one," he would say, "only it has a few more broken terrible frown. "Are they clean? Have you been biting them? Do they need windows, and the yard is maybe a little smaller." trimming?" As we entered Montclair, he drove through the worst section of town, and Then out would come leather manicure sets for the girls and pocket knives for finally pulled up at an abandoned structure that even Dracula wouldn't have felt the boys. How we loved him then, when his frown wrinkles reversed their field at home in. and became a wide grin. "Well, here it is," he said. "Home. All out." Or he'd shake hands solemnly all around, and when you took your hand away "You're joking, aren't you, dear?" Mother said hopefully. there'd be a nut chocolate bar in it. Or he'd ask who had a pencil, and then hand "What's the matter with it? Don't you like it?" out a dozen automatic ones. "If it's what you want, dear," said Mother, "I'm satisfied. I guess." "Let's see, what time is it?" he asked once. Out came wrist watches for all— "It's a slum, that's what's the matter with it," said Ernestine. even the six-week-old baby. "No one asked your opinion, young lady," replied Dad. "I was talking to your "Oh, Daddy, they're just right," we'd say. Mother, and I will thank you to keep out of the conversation." And when we'd throw our arms around him and tell him how we'd missed him, "You're welcome," said Ernestine, who knew she was treading on thin ice but he would choke up and wouldn't be able to answer. So he'd rumple our hair and was too upset to care. "You're welcome, I'm sure. Only I wouldn't live in it with slap our bottoms instead. a ten-foot pole." "Neither would I," said Martha. "Not with two ten-foot poles." "Hush," said Mother. "Daddy knows best." CHAPTER 2 Lill started to sob. Pierce Arrow "It won't look so bad with a coat of paint and a few boards put in where these holes are," Mother said cheerfully. There were other surprises, too. Boxes of Page and Shaw candy, dolls and toys, Dad, grinning now, was fumbling in his pocket for his notebook. cameras from Germany, wool socks from Scotland, a dozen Plymouth Rock "By jingo, kids, wait a second," he crowed. "Wrong address. Well, what do you hens, and two sheep that were supposed to keep the lawn trimmed but died, poor know. Pile back in. I thought this place looked a little more run down than when creatures, from the combined effects of saddle sores, too much petting, and tail I last saw it." pulling. The sheep were fun while they lasted, and it is doubtful if any pair of And then he drove us to 68 Eagle Rock Way, which was an old but beautiful Taj quadrupeds ever had been sheared so often by so many. Mahal of a house with fourteen rooms, a two-story barn out back, a greenhouse, "If I ever bring anything else alive into this household," Dad said, "I hope the chicken yard, grape arbors, rose bushes, and a couple of dozen fruit trees. At Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals hales me into court and makes first we thought that Dad was teasing us again, and that this was the other end of me pay my debt to society. I never felt so ashamed about anything in my life as I a scab—a house much better than the one he had bought. do about those sheep. So help me." "This is really it," he said. "The reason I took you to that other place first, and When Dad bought the house in Montdair, he described it to us as a tumbled- the reason I didn't try to describe this place to you is—well, I didn't want you to down shanty in a run-down neighborhood. We thought this was another one of be disappointed. Forgive me?" his surprises, but he finally convinced us that the house was a hovel. We said we did. "It takes a lot of money to keep this family going," he said. "Food, clothes, Dad had bought the automobile a year before we moved. It was our first car, allowances, doctors' bills, getting teeth straightened, and buying ice cream sodas. and cars still were a novelty. Of course, that had been a surprise, too. He had I'm sorry, but I just couldn't afford anything better. We'll have to fix it up the taken us all for a walk and had ended up at a garage where the car had been best we can, and make it do." parked. We were living at Providence, Rhode Island, at the time. As we drove from Although Dad made his living by redesigning complicated machinery, so as to Providence to Montclair, Dad would point to every termite-trap we passed. reduce the number of human motions required to operate it, he never really FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
4. understood the mechanical intricacies of our automobile. It was a gray Pierce "Motorcycle approaching from astern." Arrow, equipped with two bulb horns and an electric Klaxon, which Dad would "I see them, I see them," Dad would say irritably, although usually he didn't. try to blow all at the same time when he wanted to pass anyone. The engine "Don't you have any confidence at all in your father?" hood was long and square, and you had to raise it to prime the petcocks on cold He was especially fond of the electric horn, an ear-splitting gadget which mornings. bellowed "kadookah" in an awe-inspiring, metallic baritone. How Dad could Dad had seen the car in the factory and fallen in love with it. The affection was manage to blow this and the two bulb horns, step on the gas, steer the car, shout entirely one-sided and unrequited. He named it Foolish Carriage because, he "road hog, road hog," and smoke a cigar—all at the same time— is in itself a said, it was foolish for any man with as many children as he to think he could tribute to his abilities as a motion study expert afford a horseless carriage. A few days after he bought the car, he brought each of us children up to it, one The contraption kicked him when he cranked, spat oil in his face when he at a time, raised the hood, and told us to look inside and see if we could find the looked into its bowels, squealed when he mashed the brakes, and rumbled birdie in the engine. While our backs were turned, he'd tiptoe back to the driver's ominously when he shifted gears. Sometimes Dad would spit, squeal, and seat—a jolly Santa Claus in mufti—and press down on the horn. rumble back. But he never won a single decision. "Kadookah, Kadookah." The horn blaring right in your ear was frightening and Frankly, Dad didn't drive our car well at all. But he did drive it fast. He terrified you'd jump away in hurt amazement. Dad would laugh until the tears came to his all of us, but particularly Mother. She sat next to him on the front seat—with two eyes. of the babies on her lap—and alternated between clutching Dad's arm and dosing "Did you see the birdie? Ho, ho, ho," he'd scream. "I'll bet you jumped six and her eyes in supplication. Whenever we rounded a corner, she would try to make nine-tenths inches. Ho, ho, ho." a shield out of her body to protect the babies from what she felt sure would be One day, while we were returning from a particularly trying picnic, the engine mutilation or death. balked, coughed, spat, and stopped. "Not so fast, Frank, not so fast," she would whisper through clenched teeth. But Dad was sweaty and sleepy. We children had gotten on his nerves. He ordered Dad never seemed to hear. us out of the car, which was overheated and steaming. He wrestled with the back Foolish Carriage was a right-hand drive, so whoever sat to the left of Mother seat to get the tools. It was stuck and he kicked it. He took off his coat, foiled up and the babies on the front seat had to be on the lookout to tell Dad when he his sleeves, and raised the left-hand side of the hood. could pass the car ahead. Dad seldom swore. An occasional "damn," perhaps, but he believed in setting a "You can make it," the lookout would shout. good example. Usually he stuck to such phrases as "by jingo" and "holy Moses." "Put out your hand," Dad would holler. He said them both now, only there was something frightening in the way he Eleven hands—everybody contributing one except Mother and the babies— tolled them out. would emerge from both sides of the car; from the front seat, rear seat, and His head and shoulders disappeared into the inside of the hood. You could see folding swivel chairs amidships. We had seen Dad nick fenders, slaughter his shirt, wet through, sticking to his back. chickens, square away with traffic policemen, and knock down full-grown trees, Nobody noticed Bill. He had crawled into the front seat. And then— and we weren't taking any chances. "Kadookah. Kadookah." The lookout on the front seat was Dad's own idea. The other safety measures, Dad jumped so high he actually toppled into the engine, leaving his feet which we soon inaugurated as a matter of self-preservation, were our own. dangling in mid-air. His head butted the top of the hood and his right wrist came We would assign someone to keep a lookout for cars approaching on side up against the red-hot exhaust pipe. You could hear the flesh sizzle. Finally he streets to the left; someone to keep an identical lookout to the right; and managed to extricate himself. He rubbed his head, and left grease across his someone to kneel on the rear seat and look through the isinglass window in the forehead. He blew on the burned wrist. He was livid. back. "Jesus Christ," he screamed, as if he had been saving this oath since his "Car coming from the left. Dad," one lookout would sing out. wedding day for just such an occasion. "Holy Jesus Christ. Who did that?" "Two coming from the right." FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
5. "Mercy, Maud," said Mother, which was the closest she ever came to swearing, Dad would tell us to get ready while he brought the car around to the front of too. the house. He made it sound easy—as if it never entered his head that Foolish Bill, who was six and always in trouble anyway, was the only one with nerve Carriage might not want to come around front. Dad was a perpetual optimist, enough to laugh. But it was a nervous laugh at that. confident that brains someday would triumph over inanimate steel; bolstered in "Did you see the birdie, Daddy?" he asked. the belief that he entered the fray with clean hands and a pure heart. Dad grabbed him, and Bill stopped laughing. While groans, fiendish gurglings and backfires were emitting from the barn, the "That was a good joke on you, Daddy," Bill said hopefully. But there wasn't house itself would be organized confusion, as the family carried out its much confidence in his voice. preparations in accordance with prearranged plans. It was like a night; general "There is a time," Dad said through his teeth, "and there is a place for birdies. staff headquarters on D-Day minus one. And there is a time and place for spankings." Getting ready meant scrubbed hands and face, shined shoes, clean clothes, "I'll bet you jumped six and nine-tenths inches, Daddy," said Bill, stalling for combed hair. It wasn’t advisable to be late, if and when Dad finally came rolling time, now. up to the porte-cochere. And it wasn't advisable to be dirty, because he’d inspect Dad relaxed and let him go. "Yes, Billy, by jingo," he said. "That was a good us all. joke on me, and I suspect I did jump six and nine-tenths inches." Besides getting himself ready, each older child was responsible for one of the Dad loved a joke on himself, all right. But he loved it best a few months after younger ones. Dan, Em in charge of Jack, and Mark in charge of Bob. This the joke was over, and not when it was happening. The story about Bill and the applied not only to rides in the car but all the time. The older sister was supposed birdie became one of his favorites. No one ever laughed harder at the end of the to help her particular charge get dressed in the morning, to see that he made his story than Dad. Unless it was Bill. By jingo. bed, to put dean dothes on when he needed them, to see that he was washed and on time for meals, and to see that his process charts were duly initialed. Anne, as the oldest, also was responsible for the deportment and general CHAPTER 3 appearance of the whole group. Mother, of course, watched out for the baby, Jane. The intermediate children, Frank, Bill, Lill and Fred, were considered old Orphans in Uniform enough to look out for themselves, but not old enough to look after anyone else. Dad, for the purpose of convenience (his own), ranked himself with the When Dad decided he wanted to take the family for an outing in the Pierce intermediate category. Arrow, he'd whistle assembly, and then ask: In the last analysis, the person responsible for making the system work was "How many want to go for a ride?" Mother. Mother never threatened, never shouted or became excited, never The question was purely rhetorical, for when Dad rode, everybody rode. So spanked a single one of her children—or anyone else's, either. we'd all say we thought a ride would be fine. Mother was a psychologist. In her own way, she got even better results with the Actually, this would be pretty dose to the truth. Alt Dad's driving was fraught family than Dad. But she was not a disciplinarian. If it was always Dad, and with peril, there was a str fascination in its brushes with death and its dramatic, never Mother, who suggested going for a ride, Mother had her reasons. traffic-stopping scenes. It was the sort of thing that you wouldn't have initiated She'd go from room to room, settling fights, drying tears, buttoning jackets. yourself, but wouldn't have wanted to miss. It was standing up in a roller coaster. "Mother, he's got my shirt. Make him give it to me." It was going up on the stage when the magician called for volunteers. It was a "Mother, can I sit up front with you? I never get to sit up front." back somersault off the high diving board. "It’s mine; you gave it to me. You wore mine yesterday." A drive, too, meant a chance to be with Dad аnd Mother. If you were lucky, When we'd all gathered in front of the house, the girls in dusters, the boys in even to sit with them on the front seat. There were so many of us and so few of linen suits, Mother would call the roll. Anne, Ernestine, Martha, Frank and so them that we never could see as much of them as we wanted. Every hour or so, forth. we'd change places so as to give someone eke a turn in the front seat with them. FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
6. We used to daim that the roll-call was a waste of time and motion. Nothing was exchanging kicks and pinches under the protection of the lap robe as we considered more of a sin in our house than wasted time and motions. But Dad squirmed around trying to make more room. had two vivid memories about children who had been left behind by mistake. Finally, off we'd start. Mother, holding the two babies, seemed to glow with One such occurrence happened in Hoboken, aboard the liner Leviathan. Dad vitality. Her red hair, arranged in a flat pompadour, would begin to blow out in had taken the boys aboard on a sightseeing trip just before she sailed. He hadn't wisps from her hat. As long as we were still in town, and Dad wasn't driving remembered to count noses when he came down the gangplank, and didn't fast, she seemed to enjoy the ride. She'd sit there listening to him and carrying on notice, until the gangplank was pulled in, that Dan was missing. The Leviathan’s a rapid conversation. But just the same her ears were straining toward the sounds sailing was held up for twenty minutes until Dan was located, asleep in a chair in the back seats, to make sure that everything was going all right. on the promenade deck. She had plenty to worry about, too, because the more cramped we became the The other occurrence was slightly more lurid. We were en route from Montdair more noise we'd make. Finally, even Dad couldn't stand the confusion. to New Bedford, Massachusetts, and Frank, Jr., was left behind by mistake in a "What's the matter back there?" he'd bellow to Anne. "I thought I told you to restaurant in New London. His absence wasn't discovered until near the end of keep everybody quiet." the trip. "That would require an act of God," Anne would reply bitterly. Dad wheeled the car around frantically and sped back to New London, "You are going to think God is acting if you don't keep order back there. I said breaking every traffic rule then on the books. We had stopped in the New quiet and I want quiet." London restaurant for lunch, and it had seemed a respectable enough place. It "I'm trying to make them behave, Daddy. But no one will listen to me." was night time when we returned, however, and the place was garish in colored "I don't want any excuses; I want order. You're the oldest. From now on, I don't lights. Dad left us in the car, and entered. After the drive in the dark, his eyes want to hear a single sound from back there. Do you all want to walk home?" were squinted in the bright lights, and he couldn't see very well. But he hurried By this time, most of us did, but no one dared say so. back to the booths and peered into each one. Things would quiet down for a while. Even Anne would relax and forget her A pretty young lady, looking for business, was drinking a highball in the responsibilities as the oldest. But finally there'd be trouble again, and we'd feel second booth. Dad peered in, flustered. pinches and kicks down underneath the robe. "Hello, Pops," she said. "Don't be bashful. Are you looking for a naughty little "Cut it out, Ernestine, you sneak," Anne would hiss. girl?" "You take up all the room," Ernestine would reply. "Why don't you move over. Dad was caught off guard. I wish you'd stayed home." "Goodness, no," he stammered, with all of his ordinary poise shattered. "I'm "You don't wish it half as much as I," Anne would say, with all her heart. It was looking for a naughty little boy," on such occasions that Anne wished she were an only child. "Whoops, dearie," she said. "Pardon me." We made quite a sight rolling along in the car, with the top down. As we All of us had been instructed that when we were lost we were supposed to stay passed through cities and villages, we caused a stir equaled only by a circus in the same spot until someone returned for us, and Frank, Jr., was found, eating parade. ice cream with the proprietor's daughter, back in the kitchen. This was the part Dad liked best of all. He'd slow down to five miles an hour Anyway, those two experiences explain why Dad always insisted that the roll and he'd blow the horns at imaginary obstacles and cars two blocks away. The be called. horns were Dad's calliope. As we'd line up in front of the house before getting into the car, Dad would "I seen eleven of them, not counting the man and the woman," someone would look us pll over carefully. shout from the sidewalk. "Are you all reasonably sanitary?" he would ask. "You missed the second baby up front here, Mister," Dad would call over his Dad would get out and help Mother and the two babies into the front seat. He'd shoulder. pick out someone whose behavior had been especially good, and allow him to sit Mother would make believe she hadn't heard anything, and look straight ahead. up front too, as the left-hand lookout. The rest of us would pile in the back, FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
7. Pedestrians would come scrambling from side streets and children would ask their parents to lift them onto their shoulders. "How do you grow them carrot-tops, Brother?" "These?" Dad would bellow. "These aren't so much, Friend. You ought to see the ones I left at home." Whenever the crowds gathered at some some intersection where we were stopped by traffic, the inevitable question came sooner or later. "How do you feed all those kids, Mister?" Dad would ponder for a minute. Then, rearing back so those on the outskirts could hear, he'd say as if he had just thought it up: "Well, they come cheaper by the dozen, you know." This was designed to bring down the house, and usually it did. Dad had a good sense of theater, and he'd try to time this apparent ad lib so that it would coincide with the change in traffic. While the peasantry was chuckling, the Pierce Arrow would buck away in clouds of gray smoke, while the professor up front rendered a few bars of Honk Honk Kadookah. Leave 'em in stitches, that was us. Dad would use that same "cheaper by the dozen" line whenever we stopped at a toll gate, or went to a movie, or bought tickets for a train or boat. "Do my Irishmen come cheaper by the dozen?" he'd ask the man at the toll bridge. Dad could take one look at a man and know his nationality. "Irishmen is it? And I might have known it. Lord love you, and it takes the Irish to raise a crew of red-headed Irishmen like that. The Lord Jesus didn't mean for any family like that to pay toll on my road. Drive through on the house.” "Just look at those poor, adorable little children," she said. "Don't they look "If he knew you were a Scot he'd take a shillalah and wrap it around your tight- sweet in their uniforms?" fisted head," Mother giggled as we drove Dad was all set to go into a new act—the benevolent superintendent taking the "He probably would," Dad agreed. "Bejabers." little orphan tykes out for a drive. And one day at the circus. "Why bless my soul and body," he began loudly, in a jovial voice. "Why bless "Do my Dutchmen come cheaper by the dozen?" my buttons. Why bless . . ." "Dutchmen? Ach. And what a fine lot of healthy Dutchmen.” But for once Mother exploded. "Have you heard the story about the man with the big family who took his "That," she said, "is the last straw. Positively and emphatically the ultimate children to the circus?" asked Dad. " 'My kids want to see your elephants,' said straw." the man.' 'That's nothing,' replied the ticket-taker, 'my elephants want to see your This was something new, and Dad was scared. "What's the matter, Lillie?" he kids.'" asked quickly. "I heard it before," said the circus man. "Often. Just go in that gate over there "Not the penultimate, nor yet the ante-penultimate," said Mother. "But the where there ain't no turnstile." ultimate." Mother only drew the line once at Dad's scenes in Foolish Carriage. That was "What's the matter, Lillie? Speak to me, girl." in Hartford, Connecticut, right in the center of town. We had just stopped at a "The camel's back is broken," Mother said. "Someone has just mistaken us for traffic sign, and the usual crowd was beginning to collect. We heard the words an orphanage." plainly from a plump lady near the curb. "Oh, that," said Dad. "Sure, I know it. Wasn't it a scream?" FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020
8. "No," said Mother. "It wasn't." "It's these dusters we have to wear," Anne almost wept. "It's these damned, damned dusters. They look just like uniforms." "Honestly, Daddy," said Ernestine, "it's so embarrassing to go riding when you always make these awful scenes." The crowd was bigger than ever now. "I," said Martha, "feel like Lady Godiva." Mother was upset, but not too upset to reprimand Anne for swearing. Dad started to shake with laughter, and the crowd started laughing, too. to be continued "That's a good one," somebody shouted. "Lady Godiva. You tell him, Sis. Lady Godiva!" The boys began showing off. Bill sat on the top of the back seat as if he were a returning hero being cheered by a welcoming populace. He waved his hat aloft and bowed graciously to either side, with a fixed, stagey smile on his face. Frank and Fred swept imaginary ticker tape off his head and shoulders. But the girls, crimson-faced, dived under the lap robe. "Get down from there, Bill," said Mother. Dad was still roaring. "I just don't understand you girls," he wheezed. "That's the funniest thing I ever heard in my life. An orphanage on wheels. And me the superintendent. Gilbreth's Retreat for the Red-Haired Offspring of Unwed but Repentant Reprobates." "Not humorous," said Mother. "Let's get out of here." As we passed through the outskirts of Hartford, Dad was subdued and repentant; perhaps a little frightened. "I didn't mean any harm, Lillie," he said. "Of course you didn't, dear. And there's no harm done." But Ernestine wasn't one to let an advantage drop. "Well, we're through with the dusters," she announced from the back seat. "We'll never wear them again. Never again. Quoth the raven, and I quoth, 'Nevermore,' and I un-quoth." Dad could take it from Mother, but not from his daughters. "Who says you're through with the dusters?" he howled. "Those dusters cost a lot of money, which does not grow on grape arbors. And if you think for a minute that. . ." "No, Frank," Mother interrupted. "This time the girls are right. No more dusters." It was a rare thing for them to disagree, and we all sat there enjoying it. "All right, Lillie," Dad grinned, and everything was all right now. "As I always say, you're the boss. And I unquoth, too." FRAN BUNKER GILBRETH, Jr. CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN, - CHAPTER THREE SCANNED BY THẨM TÂM VY, Feb 29th, 2020