He gravely shook his head and clicked his tongue. Midas noticed a couple of little red spots on the end of John’s nose.
John Midas was candy mad.Īt lunch one Saturday Mrs. All his money went on candy, and all his candy went to himself. While other boys and girls spent their money on model airplanes, magazines, skipping ropes, and pet lizards, John studied the candy counters. Boiled candy, cotton candy, licorice all-sorts, old-fashioned toffee, candied orange and lemon slices, crackerjack, jelly beans, fudge, black-currant lozenges for ticklish throats, nougat, marrons gláces, acid drops, peppermint sticks, lollipops, marshmallows, and, above all, chocolates-he devoured them all. He had one bad fault: he was a pig about candy. John should have been completely well-behaved. Susan had soft yellow curls, round pink cheeks, blue eyes, and one of the best collections of marbles in the neighborhood. Quaver, the music teacher, had soon agreed to let him play small parts, a few notes at a time, with the school orchestra.įinally, there was Susan Buttercup, who was in his class. He had received a new, shiny golden trumpet and music lessons as a going-to-school present. His teacher, Miss Plimsole, was fairly easy to get along with, as long as he did careful work. His father, when he didn’t have to hurry to town, spent hours telling John interesting things about baseball, beetles, birds’ nests, boats, brigands, and butterflies. His mother was gentle as well as practical.
He lived in a comfortable house surrounded by a green lawn and wide-spreading shade trees that were suitable for climbing.
Generally speaking, however, he behaved very well. Every now and then, of course, he broke a rule, such as the rule against pretending to be a tiger when his sister, Mary, was supposed to be getting to sleep. Most of the time John Midas was a very nice boy.
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