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"My brother wrote me a letter," Bruno was saying. "He wants to get to know
this girl, but he doesn't know how to approach her and he wanted my advice. At
first I didn't know what to tell him and then I thought 'What would Mr. Wizzle
do?' After that it was all clear to me."
Boots whistled. "Yeah, that Mr. Wizzle sure has a way with women."
"I know," said Bruno. "Take Miss Peabody, for instance. He knows that she's
the type of woman who appreciates forcefulness. I'll bet he doesn't waste time
beating around the bush. He'd just step right in there and ask her out,
straight as an arrow!"
Mr. Wizzle sat taller in his chair. Yes! That was exactly what he would do!
***
"Hello, Peabody speaking& Oh, Wizzle, it's you& Friday night?& Are you sure
you really want that?& Well uh okay, I guess so. Goodbye, Wizzle."
Miss Peabody slammed down the receiver with an annoyed frown. Now,why had she
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accepted his invitation? What a waste of a Friday night! Why would someone who
had no trouble at all kicking three hundred butts into shape not have the guts
to tell Wizzle that she didn't want to go out with him on Friday evening?
Surely a former U.S. Marine could manage to say, "No, Wizzle, I don't want to
go out with you." Of course. Then why hadn't she said it?
Oh, well, with any luck Friday would go badly and even Wizzle would be able
to see that the two of them were just not compatible. Reassured by this
thought, she resumed her paper work.
Late Friday night Miss Scrimmage stood in the doorway of the residence hall
to welcome Miss Peabody home from her date.
"Hello, dear. How was your evening?"
"Terrible!" muttered Miss Peabody, trudging into the building. "Just don't
ask!"
Miss Scrimmage was aghast. "Did Mr. Wizzle make improper advances?"
The assistant headmistress rolled her eyes. "Do you know what his idea of a
big time is? We went to a cello recital!"
"Oh, how nice."
"I yawned so wide I thought he'd fall in! Anyway, I don't want to talk about
it. Good night."
She walked to her room, reflecting that the worst part of the whole dreary
experience was that she couldn't bring herself to tell Wizzle that they were
through. She entered her room and kicked her Niagara Falls cushion, another
gift from Wizzle, across the floor. Why should she feel obliged to tell Wizzle
they were finished when they had never even started?
***
"He's a dead loss, that's what he is. A dead loss," said Bruno glumly at the
lunch table. "He stinks with women. Boots and I were talking with Cathy.
Wizzle took Peabody out Friday night. You know where he took her? A cello
recital! You know those big violins that moan a lot. I just can't believe it!
At this rate it'll be years before they even hold hands!"
"It's hopeless," said Boots. "They're the least romantic pair in the world."
"It does seem unlikely that we will achieve our goal of matrimony," put in
Elmer.
"You guys are just going about it the wrong way," said Wilbur.
"Oh, yeah?" challenged Bruno. "Since when did you become the big Casanova?"
"It's very simple," Wilbur insisted. "There's only one thing you should use
to get two people in the mood to grow fond of each other."
"What's that?" asked Boots.
"Food."
Everyone laughed.
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"No, really!" said Wilbur, now so involved in the argument that he was
ignoring his lunch. "Think about it. When families get together they put on a
big spread; when married couples celebrate their anniversaries they have
supper together; when major corporations form business affiliations the
contract is signed in a restaurant over lunch; and when two people are
interested in each other they have intimate dinners by candlelight." He looked
around. "Right?"
There were still snickers.
"No. No wait!" said Bruno. "He's got a point there. Let's set Wizzle and
Peabody up for a romantic dinner. Now let's see where?"
"Ralph's Diner has the best hamburgers in Chutney," offered Pete Anderson.
"No, no," said Sidney. "It's got to be classier than that. Maybe fish and
chips."
"No," said Bruno. "It's got to be somewhere really nice."
"My uncle Manfred owns a restaurant," said Wilbur.
"What's it called?!" grinned Larry. "Mr. Eat?"
Wilbur looked insulted. "Have you ever heard of Manny's?"
"TheManny's?" Chris goggled. "That fancy place in downtown Toronto?"
Wilbur nodded proudly. "Food is a serious business in our family. Last year
the president of the United States dined there on his trip to Toronto. It's
got a five-star rating."
Bruno smiled broadly. "That settles it. Saturday night Wizzle and Peabody are
going out for the most fantastic dinner of their lives."
Boots frowned. "Bruno, if this Manny's is as fancy as Wilbur says it is, it's
going to cost a fortune."
"So what?" shrugged Bruno. "Wizzle's paying. Wilbur, make the reservation.
Ask your uncle for the best table."
Mr. Wizzle walked into his office to find a mauve envelope on his desk. He
opened it and removed a perfumed note in elegant, flowing handwriting. It read
simply:Manny's, Saturday night, eight o'clock .
He held the note to his nose and inhaled the deep scent of lavender. His
heart soared. Miss Peabody was meeting him for dinner!
Miss Peabody read the note she found on her desk. It was printed quite
professionally on a white sheet of paper.Miss Gloria Peabody, Please meet with
me at Manny's in downtown Toronto on Saturday at exactly eight o'clock. This
may seriously concern your future. A Friend .
She frowned. Wizzle? No, it couldn't be. It had too much style. Who could it
be then? What could it mean? The tone of the letter was vaguely threatening.
She set her jaw stubbornly. Well, she would definitely get to the bottom of
this on Saturday at eight.
***
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"Right on time, half an hour early," announced Bruno triumphantly. He, Boots,
and Wilbur sat in the waiters' room off the gleaming kitchen of Manny's
renowned restaurant. They watched the closed-circuit TV screen as Wilbur's
uncle personally escorted Mr. Wizzle to a private dining room.
"This TV thing is great!" exclaimed Bruno gleefully. "This way you can spy on
all the people eating here!"
"It's not for spying," said Wilbur indignantly. "It's so waiters can watch
their tables without hovering around the people."
"Yeah, well, it's a really fancy place," said Bruno. "I'm glad your uncle's
nice enough to let us in here."
Boots looked at his watch. "I wonder how long it'll be before Peabody
arrives. I'd like to get this over with and get back to school before The Fish
finds out we're gone. We're supposed to be confined to our room, you know."
"Relax," said Wilbur. "Uncle Manfred's garlic bread is worth any risk. Have
some."
Bruno and Boots each took a piece of bread and continued to watch the screen.
Just then Wilbur's Uncle Manfred came up behind them. "Well, gentlemen,
everything is ready except for the wine. Any suggestions?"
"Wine?" asked Bruno uncertainly.
"Of course," replied the restauranteur. "We always serve a complimentary [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]