Read Online The Clockwork Twin by Walter R. Brooks - Free Book Online Page A

could get Uncle Ben to build a clockwork one, and I took this chart up to him a few days ago, and he’s started to work on it already. What do you think of it?”
    â€œWell,” said Jinx, “I’m like Hank: I don’t know much about machinery. He looks terrible complicated. What can he do?”
    â€œRun, walk, dance, wrestle, throw a ball—oh, lots of things. And Uncle Ben is thinking up some more improvements.”
    â€œHe won’t be able to talk, will he? What good’s a playmate that can’t talk?”
    â€œNo, but we’re going to put a yell in him. Most boys yell more than they talk, specially when they’re playing.”
    â€œH’m,” said Jinx, “what happens when he runs down?”
    â€œHe goes to sleep until you wind him up again.”
    â€œH’m,” said Jinx again; “I’d hate to have a playmate I had to wind up all the time.”
    â€œSay, look, Jinx,” said Freddy a little crossly, “I didn’t tell you about this so you could think up a lot of criticisms. You leave all those things to Uncle Ben. What I wanted you to do was paint the face. You’re good with paints, got a real artistic touch. We’ve got the head all cut out of wood and ready, and I thought it would be a good time when all the other animals are stuffing themselves with wedding cake and won’t be snooping around, to get it done.”
    â€œLead me to it,” said Jinx enthusiastically. Like all cats, and many people, he wasn’t much interested in any kind of work or game that he wasn’t good at. But he was really good at painting, and so he became all at once very much excited about the clockwork boy.
    Late that night, when all the guests had gone and lights were out, one small candle still burned up in the barn loft, where Jinx was putting the finishing touches to the wooden face with a small brush. At last he threw down the brush and stood back, purring with satisfaction. “There,” he said, “when better faces are painted, Jinx’ll paint ’em.” And indeed he had done a splendid job. The face was as lifelike as paint could make it, and it looked exactly like Adoniram, even to the three large freckles on the bridge of the nose.
    â€œWonderful!” said Jinx. “Oh boy, are you a clever cat!” Then he turned and poked Freddy, who had agreed to sit up with him while he worked, but had gone to sleep.
    â€œEh? What? Who is it?” exclaimed Freddy, struggling to a sitting position. “Oh, it’s you, Jinx. Yes. Was just taking forty winks while you finished.”
    â€œForty snorts is more like it,” said the cat. “Well, look. How do you like it?”
    â€œGosh,” said Freddy, “that’s swell, Jinx. It’s so much like Adoniram that—well, I don’t believe we’ll be able to tell ’em apart.”
    â€œI wish I’d had somebody besides Adoniram to paint from,” said Jinx. “It may be a bother, having them look alike. But there wasn’t any other boy around.”
    â€œI don’t see what difference it makes,” Freddy said.
    So then they both stood silently admiring the face for a while. But Freddy was pretty sleepy, and at last he said: “Well, let’s go to bed.”
    â€œYou go along,” said Jinx. “I want to—well, there’s one or two little things—”
    Freddy grinned. He knew that Jinx just wanted to admire his own work a little longer. “All right,” he said, and stumbled off drowsily down the stairs.

VI
An Engineer for Bertram
    Freddy’s invention of pockets for animals had not really been a success. On his trip he had interested a good many animals in them, partly because he was a high-class salesman and partly because they were such a new idea. But once the novelty wore off, the animals forgot about them and stopped wearing them.
    â€œTrouble is,” said Freddy,