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  “Seems like a nice boy,” commented Mama.

  “Oh, he’s all right,” Ella replied in an off-hand manner. Quickly she added with greater enthusiasm. “He’s a senior in high school! Jules! Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

  “Jules!” scoffed Henny. “I bet it’s Julius.”

  “What if it is!” Ella retorted hotly. “I think Jules is much more beautiful. And besides, I like it.”

  All day long, Gertie and Charlotte had craned their necks in vain searching the sky for the little door to Heaven. Now, as they were walking home with the family, Charlotte pointed upward excitedly. “Look, Gertie! That bright streak of cloud! That’s it! It’s shaped just like a door!”

  Hand in hand, they raced forward, trying to catch a peek underneath. But alas, as they reached the corner of the street, the light faded away.

  When the family caught up with them, Gertie wailed, “It got too dark, Papa. They closed it up! We missed the angels!”

  Papa smiled sympathetically. “Well, little one, maybe next year.”

  “BUT WHY DO I HAVE to go to bed so early?” Henny kept insisting.

  “Why, why! Always why!” replied Papa. “I’ve answered that question so many times already. A girl your age needs lots of sleep if she wants to be healthy. If you don’t get your rest, you won’t do your lessons right. You have trouble enough as it is, keeping up your marks in school.”

  “But nine thirty is awful early!” Henny protested. “You let Ella stay out till ten thirty.”

  “For Heaven’s sake!” Ella exploded. “Ten thirty is early enough for a girl nearly sixteen years old without your trying to spoil it!”

  “Aw, heck!” muttered Henny. “Not a single one of my friends has to be home that early. You treat me like a baby.”

  “Never you mind about your friends. Their parents will worry about them,” Papa answered sharply.

  “But it’s Saturday night. There’s no school tomorrow.”

  “I know very well what night it is.”

  “Couldn’t you make it ten o’clock, at least?”

  Papa shook his head. “No, Henny. I’ve been very patient with you up till now, no matter how many times you were late before. Now my patience is at an end. I expect you home by nine thirty.”

  “Nine forty-five, Papa, please!”

  “Henny! I said nine thirty, and not one minute more!” Papa was getting angry. He shook his finger at Henny threateningly. “And if you’re late this time, you’ll get a licking for sure!”

  Charlotte couldn’t understand why Henny was making such a fuss. “Gertie and I like to go to bed early,” she remarked. “We have so much fun.”

  “Yes,” Gertie agreed. “Charlotte makes up such wonderful stories. All about two naughty girls, even better than the Katzenjammer kids; and every night she tells me another chapter. The stories are so exciting that sometimes I just can’t wait till it’s bedtime!”

  Sarah sighed. “Ella and I used to have lots of fun too. Remember, Ella, how we used to fix up our make-believe house? Now most times I have to go to sleep all by myself. When Ella creeps into bed, she puts her cold feet right on top of my warm feet and it wakes me up. But by that time I’m so sleepy I don’t feel like talking any more.”

  Ella put her arm around Sarah’s shoulder. “Tell you what,” she said consolingly, “my whole crowd’s getting together right after supper. I promised I’d be there, but I’ll get home real early. Like old times. Okay?”

  “Oh yes!” Sarah replied, giving her sister a hug.

  “That marcel-waved Jules going to be there tonight?” Henny inquired mischievously.

  Ella replied unthinkingly. “No, he won’t. He has to stay home and study for exams.”

  “I thought so!” Henny laughed. “No wonder you’re so big-hearted all of a sudden!”

  Ella didn’t bother to answer.

  It was nine-thirty. Charlie lay asleep in his bed, like a small angel. In the girl’s room, Gertie and Charlotte had ceased to giggle and whisper in the dark, but Ella and Sarah were still wide awake planning the decoration of a room in blue. In the kitchen Mama and Papa sat reading.

  At nine forty-five Papa laid down his newspaper. “The child must be taught a lesson,” he fumed. He turned to Mama. “No need for both of us to wait up. Why don’t you go to bed? I know you must be tired.”

  Mama pressed her finger tips against her weary eyes. “I am, a little,” she admitted. “But what’s the use? I won’t be able to sleep till Henny gets home.”

  “Lie down, anyway,” Papa urged. “At least that way you’ll get some rest.”

  “All right, Papa.” Mama started for the bedroom. Hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. “You won’t be too hard on her? You know how children are. They get to talking, they don’t realize the time.”

  On the kitchen shelf, the clock loudly ticked the minutes away. Ten o’clock! Papa’s fingers strummed anxiously on the table. So once again Henny had disobeyed him. Despite everything he had said. Well, tonight she’d get what she deserved! It was long overdue! He stood up, slipped the bolt in the kitchen door shut, turned out the light, and went to bed.

  Tonight all of Henny’s friends had congregated in Fanny’s house. Fanny could play the latest songs on the piano, and the girls gathered around and sang. Most of them could waltz pretty well, too; but they didn’t any of them know how to do the new dance called the foxtrot. Fanny’s big sister and her boy friend, who were very good dancers, showed it to them. The girls were entranced; everyone wanted to learn. Fanny grew awfully tired thumping out the same tune over and over while each girl had her turn at a dancing lesson.

  Afterwards, everyone felt hot and thirsty. “Let’s go to Mrs. Blumberg’s and buy a penny chocolate soda,” suggested Henny. Down in the candy store they stood around sipping the sweet drink slowly, talking and laughing. Before they knew it, Mrs. Blumberg was shooing them out. “Go—go on home already! I gotta close up.”

  In a flash Henny remembered. She’d given Papa her word! “Is it nine-thirty yet?” she inquired anxiously.

  “Nine-thirty it wouldn’t be any more tonight,” Mrs. Blumberg replied. “It’s ten o’clock.”

  “Ten o’clock!” There were exclamations of dismay. “Oh, am I late!” “I gotta get home!” “So long, everybody!” All the girls made a rush for the door.

  Henny caught hold of Fanny’s arm as they ran. “Some friend you are!” she said reproachfully. “Why didn’t you remind me? I told you I promised my Papa I’d be home by nine-thirty. Boy, will I catch it!”

  “What do you think I am, an alarm clock?” Fanny replied.

  Henny was worried. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’m only a half hour late.” Papa hardly ever spanked the children. Still, she doubted if she’d be able to escape a licking tonight, especially after she argued about the time. Papa had certainly sounded as if he meant what he said. She searched about desperately for a solution. All at once she had a thought.

  “Listen, Fanny, how about coming up to my house?”

  “Right now? Are you crazy?”

  “Oh, I don’t mean to stay. Just come upstairs with me.”

  “I can’t. I have to be home, too. I’m late enough as it is.”

  “Oh, come on. It’ll only be for a few minutes.”

  “What difference would it make if I came along?”

  “Well, Papa wouldn’t spank me in front of a stranger—I don’t think. Then we could sort of explain what happened, and maybe he wouldn’t be so angry.”

  “Well—” Fanny debated with herself for a moment and finally gave in. “All right. But I must go home right away.”

  The hall lay in utter darkness. The two girls had to grope their way up the stairs. No light streaked through at the sill of the kitchen door, either. “Everybody’s asleep already,” Henny said in an undertone. Stealthily she turned the knob, her knee pressing against the door. It did not yield. “How do you like that!” she whispered fiercely, “I’m locked out! Now I’ll have to bang
on the door and wake everybody up.”

  “Gee, that’ll make your Papa madder than ever. I’m going!” Fanny started toward the stairs.

  Henny pulled her back. “You can’t leave me now,” she begged. “You promised! Anyway, I’ve got an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Ella’s and Sarah’s bed is right up alongside the wall. I’ll knock on the wall for a signal. When Ella hears, she’ll understand. She’ll open the door for me, and I’ll creep into bed without Papa even knowing.”

  “Do you think she’ll hear?”

  “Sure!” She felt along the wall till she reached the spot where she imagined the bed to be. “Well, here goes,” she murmured, tapping out a signal. “Ta ta—ta ta—ta ta ta ta.” She paused, then tapped a second time. With her mouth against the wall, she called softly, “Ella! Ella!” The girls held their breath for a moment, waiting.

  The door unlatched and opened. A strong arm reached out into the darkness. Without a word, Papa turned his captive over his knee. Whack! Whack! Whack!

  “Papa! Please, Papa, stop!” Henny yelled.

  Papa went right on with his spanking. Once, twice, three times more. A hand tugged at his sleeve. “Papa! You’re hitting the wrong girl. I’m Henny. That’s Fanny you’ve got there!”

  Papa’s hand stopped in mid-air.

  Fanny had been too terrified to utter a sound. Now she started to bawl at the top of her lungs. A light went on in the kitchen, and Mama appeared. “What’s going on?” she demanded. She looked down at the bawling Fanny. “And what happened to you?”

  Abashed, Papa tried to explain. “It was dark, Mama. I was giving Henny a spanking—”

  Mama looked around, puzzled. “Then why is Fanny crying?”

  “Well, you see, Mama,” Papa stuttered—“I couldn’t see it was a mistake—and—”

  “He whacked Fanny instead of me,” Henny finished for him.

  Mama gathered the weeping Fanny into her arms. “Oh, you poor child!”

  Papa tried to smile. “You’ll have to excuse me, Fanny, dear child. I made a bad mistake. I didn’t mean—”

  Henny walked over to Fanny and took her hand. She felt awfully guilty, but somehow the whole thing suddenly seemed very funny. She felt a fit of giggles coming on. She tried to control herself, but it was no use. She just doubled over with laughter. In another moment, Fanny’s screwed-up face changed to a smiling one. A moment more, and both Papa and Mama were laughing so hard they couldn’t stop.

  The sounds of such unusual merriment brought the sisters running, their startled eyes blinking at the light. Mama shooed them in. “Back to your beds! It’s late!”

  “But why is everyone laughing?” sleepy Gertie asked.

  “It’s your Papa. Such a way to carry on! He’ll have good cause to remember this night. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Into bed now, every one of you!”

  Henny needed no urging. No sense hanging around to remind Papa that he still owed her a licking. “Thanks loads, Fanny,” she whispered quickly and skedaddled off to bed.

  “Go right home, Fanny,” Mama went on. “Your folks must be anxious.”

  Papa locked the door with what sounded like a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, Papa!” Mama shook her head at him in comic distress. “How am I ever going to explain to Fanny’s mother?”

  “CAN ANYONE in the class tell time?” asked the teacher.

  There was no reply. It seemed no one could. Now, that was silly of me, the teacher realized. Of course they can’t tell time yet. Some of them are not even eight years old. Just then one small palm waved in the air. “My, Gertie!” the teacher exclaimed in pleased surprise. “You can! How very clever of you!” There was a buzz of admiration from Gertie’s classmates.

  “Then you can do an errand for me,” the teacher went on. “You know the big clock at the other end of the hall? Would you please go and see what time it is and come back and tell us.”

  Oh, dear! Gertie’s conscience shook its finger at her.

  Conscience: See, Miss Smarty. That’s what happens when you try to show off. Why did you raise your hand? You know very well you can’t tell time! Now what are you going to do?

  Gertie: I don’t know. Something made me. Anyway, I didn’t think she was going to test me out. I just thought she was asking. Oh, what shall I do?

  Conscience: You could tell her the truth.

  Gertie: And have the whole class know! I can’t. I just can’t.

  Conscience: You’ll be sorry, you’ll see. You’ll get pimples all over your tongue ’cause you told a lie!

  Gertie’s heart went thumpety thump. She wanted to put her head down on her desk for shame. Instead, here were her feet carrying her down the aisle, across the front of the classroom, and out the door!

  She started down the hallway. There it was, a great round monster high on the wall, its numbers just a jumble of black on a white face. Slowly she watched the brass pendulum swing back and forth, back and forth. It was ticking out a mocking refrain. Tick, tock, tick, tock—You don’t know how—to read a clock! She gulped. Her small face crumpled up, and soon her tears were making the clock look all blurry.

  All at once she noticed a big girl coming towards her. Maybe she’ll be able to help me, Gertie thought hopefully. Hurriedly she wiped her eyes. “Miss,” she asked eagerly, “would you please tell me what time it is?”

  “Sure. It’s twenty minutes to eleven.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Gertie cried, her face all sunshiny again. “Twenty minutes to eleven,” she repeated. She eyed the clock curiously for a moment, wondering about the mystery of its two hands. Well, she’d better get back to the classroom. Teacher must be wondering what was taking so long. Her feet had wings as she sped down the hall.

  Alas, Gertie could not know what trouble she had let herself in for. Every day, thereafter, Teacher would send her out to get the time. And day after day, she would stand beneath the clock, praying that someone—a teacher, a pupil, or perhaps the janitor—would come along. Day after day, the longing to tell the truth and have the whole thing over and done with grew and grew and grew. But it was so hard, so hard! She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Every afternoon, as soon as she got home from school, she’d rush to the mirror and anxiously examine her tongue. When would the pimples start showing, she wondered fearfully. She was sure she could feel them already, sort of inside the tongue, even if she couldn’t actually see them.

  Always before, she had told Charlotte everything. Now she was too ashamed. Maybe if Charlotte knew what a big liar she was, she wouldn’t even want to be friends with her any more.

  Charlotte was so smart. She could tell time. Gertie kept pestering her with questions, but what Charlotte said didn’t seem to make any sense. Gertie kept asking and asking, trying desperately to understand. She knew there’d come a day when no one would be in the hall to give her the answer.

  She dreaded going to school. She would sit in fear and trembling, waiting for the terrible moment when Teacher would smile at her sweetly and send her out on this most important errand.

  Now—today—this very moment, the thing she had feared most was finally happening. She had been under the clock for the longest time. She couldn’t stay out much longer. Teacher would surely suspect something. Agonizingly the minutes ticked by. Gertie chewed on her fingernails. She walked up and down, up and down, but there was nobody around—just nobody!

  She came back to the clock. If only she had a big rock. She’d smash that old clock’s face in a million pieces! Then no one could ever read it again, not even Teacher herself.

  “You mean old face,” she exclaimed tearfully. “Why don’t you talk to me?” Then she noticed the small hand was on the eleven. Something like a spark hopped across her forehead. Little wheels of thought started whirring. Charlotte had said the small hand is for the hours. So it must be eleven o’clock! The big hand wasn’t too far away. It was on the 2. Now what had she said about that? Each littl
e dot you counted as one minute, starting from the 12, down the right side. That was it! All aquiver, Gertie began counting. It added up to ten dots. Why—why—then it must be ten minutes after eleven! Her heart gave a leap.

  Just a minute, an inner voice cautioned. Not so fast. Don’t get so excited. You’d better make sure first. But how?

  “Would you like to know the time?” a gentle voice asked.

  Gertie jumped, startled. There standing beside her was just the most important person in the whole school—Miss Phillips, the principal! Gertie’s voice shook. “Is it—is it—ten minutes after eleven?” she stammered.

  “That’s right,” Miss Phillips answered with a smile. “That’s very good for such a little girl.”

  “Oh, yes, I can tell time! I can really and truly tell time! Miss Phillips, don’t you think this is the loveliest clock in the whole world?” Gertie laughed all over herself. Without waiting for a reply, she whizzed down the hall, leaving Miss Phillips staring after her in puzzled amusement.

  “LATKES FOR SUPPER!” Henny’s mouth watered.

  There was an instant chorus of “Yum, yum!”

  Mama smiled. “Well, children, it seems everybody loves latkes. And Hanukkah’s the time to eat them. Who wants to grate the potatoes?”

  “Me! Me!” the younger ones cried.

  So Mama let Charlotte and Gertie take turns. When they grew tired, Ella and Henny took over. In a little while, the large mixing bowl was full to the brim with mushy potato liquid.

  Then Sarah grated the onions. “Ooh, it bites my nose and eyes!” she complained. She grated very fast, her face all screwed up and the tears flowing.

  “Look! Sarah’s crying. She must be sorry for the onions,” Henny said, grinning.

  Now into the bowl went eggs, matzo flour, salt and pepper. Mama stirred and stirred the mixture. By this time the oil in the frying pan was bubbling hot. It sizzled a welcome to the spoonfuls of pancake mix Mama fed it. Soon a delicious aroma spread through the room. The children hung over the stove, eager for a taste of the very first hot potato pancake that would come off the fire.