Cheaper by the Dozen

screamed, at the top of his voice. "Rah. Ray..." It was at this point that Dad entered the room. He stood viewing the proceedings with disgust, lips pursed and hands on hips. At the end of the cheer, he sidled over toward Mother.

    "The car won't start," he whispered, "and I can't say that I blame it. What shall I do?"
    "You could go in his car."
    "With that insane calliope and those signs?" Dad hissed. "Do I look like a sardine looking for a tin to leap into?"
    "Not exactly," Mother conceded. "Why don't you call a cab, then?"
    "Look at him," Dad whispered. "He doesn't come up to her shoulder. He wouldn't dare get funny with her—she'd knock him cold."
    Dad walked over to where Joe and Anne were sitting.
    "I hope you youngsters won't mind," he said, "but I won't be able to go to the dance with you."
    "No, we don't mind at all, Daddy," said Anne. "Do we Joe?"
    "A hoo, rah, ray and a tiger for me, is that it?" Dad asked. Joe made no attempt to hide his elation. "That's it," he said. "Come on, baby. Let's shake that thing. We're running late."
    "Now I want you to be home at midnight," Dad said to Anne. "I'm going to be right here waiting for you, and if you're not here by one minute after midnight I'm coming looking for you. Do you understand?"
    "All right, Daddy," Anne grinned. "Good old Foolish Carriage saved the day, didn't it?"
    "That," said Dad, "and the way certain other matters"—he looked pointedly down at Scales—"shaped up."
    "Come on, Cinderella," said Scales, "before the good fairy turns things into field mice and pumpkins."
    He and Anne departed, and he didn't forget to tip his hat. "Do you guess he meant me?" Dad asked Mother. "Why the little...I ought to break his neck."
    "Of course not. He was speaking in generalities, I'm sure." The hellish whistle could be heard gradually disappearing in the distance.

Chapter 18
Motorcycle Mac

    Once the ice was broken, Anne started having dates fairly often, and Ernestine and Martha followed suit. Dad acted as chaperone whenever the pressure of business permitted. Although he had decided that Joe Scales was small enough to be above suspicion, he had no confidence in the football heroes and other sheiks who soon were pitching their tents and woo upon the premises. When Dad couldn't act as chaperone himself, he sent Frank or Bill along as his proxy.
    "It's bad enough to have you tagging along on a date," Ernestine told Dad. "But to have a kid brother squirming and giggling on the back seat is simply unbearable. I don't know why the boys in school bother with us."
    "Well, I know, even if you don't," Dad said. "And that's exactly why Frank and Bill are there. And let me tell you, if those sheiks would stop bothering you and find some other desert to haunt, it would suit me just right."
    Frank and Bill didn't like the chaperone job any more than the girls liked having them for chaperones.
    "For Lord's sake, Daddy," Frank complained, "I feel just like a third wheel sitting in the back seat all by myself."
    "That's just what you're supposed to be—the third wheel. I don't expect you to be able to thrash those fullbacks if they start trying to take liberties with your sisters. But at least you'll be able to run for help."
    The girls complained to Mother, but as usual she sided with Dad.
    "If you ask me," Anne told her, "it's a dead give away to be as suspicious as Daddy. It denotes a misspent youth."
    "Well nobody asked you," Mother said, "so perhaps you'd better forego any further speculation. It's not a case of suspicion. Just because other parents won't face up to their responsibilities is no reason for your father or me to forget ours."
    At the dances, Dad would sit by himself against a wall, as far away from the orchestra as possible, and work on papers he had brought along in a brief case. At first no one paid much attention to him, figuring perhaps that if he was ignored he might go away. But after a few months he was accepted as a permanent fixture, and the girls and boys went out of their way to speak to him and bring him refreshments. People, even sheiks, couldn't be around Daddy without liking him. And Daddy couldn't be in the midst of people without being charming.
    "Do you see what's happening?" Anne whispered to Ernestine one night, pointing to the crowd around Dad's chair. "By golly, he's become the belle of the high school ball. What do you think of that?"
    "I think it's a pain in the neck," Ernestine said. "But it's kind of cute, isn't it?"
    "Not only