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can’t but you can,” she said. “I am sure your great brain can make that girl want to get an education, and want to look and act like a girl.”

        Tom thought about it and slowly nodded his head. “Maybe I could use my great brain to solve the problem,” he said. Then that conniving look came into his eyes. “How much would it be worth to you and Papa? Maybe we can make a deal.”

        Mamma laid her embroidery on a table and stood up. She placed her hands on her hips and addressed Tom by his full name, which meant she was plenty angry.

        “We will make a deal all right, Tom Dennis,” she said sternly. “Your father and I aren’t exactly stupid. We know you deceived us into getting you a bicycle for Christmas by pretending you’d reformed. The bicycle goes up into the attic immediately and stays there until Dotty Blake wants to get an education and starts wearing dresses. Now put your great brain to work on that.”

        Tom’s mouth fell open as if Mamma had just told him to pack his things and leave home and never come back. “But that isn’t fair,” he protested.

        “It is just as fair as you pretending you’d reformed,” Mamma said. “And I’m sure your father will back me up.”

    “I second the motion,” Papa said, nodding his head.

        I sure felt sorry for my brother. For the first time in his life he looked as if he wished he hadn’t been born with a great brain.

        “The first thing you must do,” Mamma said, “is to make Dotty want to learn how to read and write. This will also involve getting her father’s consent. You can begin by teaching her the ABC’s as you taught John D. before he started school.”

        The look of despair disappeared from Tom’s face. “You mean if I teach her the ABC’s, I get my bike back?”

        “Not quite,” Mamma said. “You will also teach her how to spell simple words and identify them until she can read simple sentences from Guffey’s Reader.”

        “And I think,” Papa said, “that Dotty should be able to count and write the numerals from one to twenty-five before you get your bicycle back. You will, of course, have the help of Mr. Standish.”

        Tom held out his arms in a pleading gesture. “You are both asking for a miracle,” he protested.

    “Then let your great brain perform one,” Mamma said.

        “We are going to follow Dotty,” Tom said to me the next day on the way home from school.

    It seemed like a silly thing to do, but I was so curious I didn’t ask any questions. We followed Dotty down Main Street. Then we saw her turn suddenly and run behind the Community Church.

    “What is she doing?” I asked.

    “Shut up and follow me,” Tom said.

        We sneaked down the side of the Community Church. Tom peeked around the corner.

    “Just as I expected,” he whispered.

        I wanted to know what he expected, so I peeked around the corner. I saw Dotty sitting on the ground with her back against the rear of the building. She had her knees doubled up and her head cradled in her arms. Her shoulders were shaking, and she was crying.

        “She isn’t a wild creature like Papa said,” Tom whispered. “Wild creatures don’t cry. That makes it easier.”

    “Easier for what?” I asked, completely puzzled.

        “To get my bike out of the attic,” Tom said. “Now back to Main Street.”

        Dotty came out of the alley and began to whistle as she walked across the street and down the other side.

        “I don’t get it,” I said. “First she cries and now she’s acting happy as a bird.”

        “That is because she doesn’t want her father to know,” Tom said.

        Tom put his great brain to work but didn’t tell me anything until Saturday afternoon. I went with him to our barn, where he saddled up Dusty.

    “Are we going for a ride?” I asked.

        “You can’t come,” Tom said. “I am going to put the first