Read Online The Genie of Sutton Place by George Selden - Free Book Online Page A

you in detail, but he was mostly patchy brown and white, and Sam the man really did rather look like him. Of course you’d have to have known them both to see the resemblance.
    The dogs were barking even louder now, because they, too, were shocked at what had happened to Sam, and the dogcatcher turned around from unlocking the gas chamber. “Hey!” he shouted. “Who are you?”
    Sam yelped a little in his old voice and then got out the words, “I—I’m—I’m a man? ”
    â€œAnd whaddaya think you’re doin’ in here?”
    Sam looked at me with this bug-eyed, pleading expression. “Help him, Dooley,” I whispered.
    The Genie pointed his forefinger at Sam’s throat. And automatically out came Sam’s voice: “I’m an inspector from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.”
    â€œYeah?—well, we got inspected last month. An’ we’re clean,” said the creep. “Now get outta here! You’re makin’ the animals nervous.”
    â€œI would have been pretty nervous myself,” said Sam furiously. “If you know you’ve got only two minutes to—”
    â€œGet outta here!” The guy took Sam by the elbow and pushed him toward a gate in the fence, which he unbolted from inside. “An’ stay out!”
    And there we were—face to face …
    â€œSam—?” I still didn’t really believe.
    â€œTimmy—?” Neither did he.
    Then all at once we did! And we were laughing, and Sam lifted me up and swung me back and forth. That was something I’d often done to Sam, when I got big enough to lift him, but this was the first time he’d done it to me and it was a funny experience.
    He was still pretty doggy. A lot of his laughter sounded like barking. “Dooley,” I said, when Sam put me down, “you’ve got to fix that voice.”
    Dooley touched his longest finger to Sam’s throat and said, “You canine voice—now hark! Use human accents. And don’t bark!” Sam cleared his throat, and after that his voice was better.
    â€œIs everything else okay, Sam?” I asked.
    He stretched out a leg. “It feels sort of strange to stand on only two feet. The balance—”
    â€œI know. It takes little kids a long time. Dooley, do you think you could—”
    â€œLegs,” said Dooley, “straighten up! And carry Sam with pride. Forget the quadruped inside.” I guess that’s what you would call instant evolution.
    But I was still jittery, staying there by the dog pound. “Come on.” I tugged Sam’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
    Sam held back, looking into the yard. “I’m kind of sorry for all those guys. I mean—dogs.” His own face looked pretty hangdog and sad. “I got to know a couple of them.”
    All I had to do was glance at Dooley. It didn’t even need a spoken spell. The bolt slid back, and the gate swung open, as nice as pie.
    A little terrier saw the escape route first. He couldn’t believe his eyes and just gawked a minute. Then he shouted something in dog talk, and in one second there was the wildest, noisiest, furriest stream pouring through that gate that you could ever hope to see.
    â€œHey wait!” the dogcatcher shouted. “Stop!”
    Nobody did, of course. I never found out what happened to all those dogs pouring up and down Houston Street, but I hope they made their way to safety.
    *   *   *
    In the car—we were all in the front seat, I never did like the idea of a chauffeur plunked up there all by himself—my nose began to twitch. “Gee, Sam, I didn’t keep you very clean. You smell half like Aunt Lucy’s perfume and half like a dirty kennel. I suppose that’s the dog pound.”
    â€œOh, now, Tim,” said Sam, “you’re not going to give me another bath, are you? We had one