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THE MYSTERY CLEARS
I heard Mommy say to someone, "The truth will out." I asked her what it meant.
"It means that if someone does something dishonest people will find out about it sooner or later. He'll be ashamed of himself and he'll be punished. Understand? It's time for bed now."
I brushed my teeth and got into bed but couldn't fall asleep, because I kept thinking about what she'd said and wondering how the truth could out, I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. Then, when I woke up, it was morning. Daddy had gone to work. Mommy and I were alone. I brushed my teeth again and went to have my breakfast.
First, I had an egg. It wasn't too bad, because I just had the yolk. I crumbled up the white together with the shell so it wouldn't be noticeable. Then Mommy set a bowl of farina in front of me.
"I want you to eat it all. Hear me?"
"I hate farina!"
"Look at yourself! You're a bag of bones'" Mommy shouted. "You've got to put on weight."
"It makes me gag."
Then Mommy sat down beside me, put her arm around me and said, "Let's go to see the Kremlin. What d'you say?"
It sounded swell. I can't think of any place that's better than the Kremlin. I've been to the Hall of Facets and the Armory, and I stood next to the Tsar-Cannon and saw Ivan the Terrible's throne. There are so many interesting things to see there. So I said, "Sure! Let's go!"
Then Mommy smiled and said, "Fine. We'll go as soon as you finish your cereal. I'll tidy up meanwhile. Don't forget, everything down to the last spoonful."
I was alone at the kitchen table with the cereal staring at me. I slapped the surface with my spoon. Then I salted it. Then I tasted it. It was awful. Then I decided to add some sugar. Maybe that would make it taste better. I sprinkled some sugar on it and tasted it again. It was still worse. I said I hated cereal.
Besides, it was very thick. If it had been thinner, I'd have shut my eyes tight and sipped it. So I added some hot water from the kettle. It was still slippery and sticky, and disgusting. I tried to swallow a spoonful, but my throat got all choked up and shoved the cereal back up. It was terrible. And I really wanted to go to the Kremlin.
That's when I remembered the jar of horse radish. I decided anything would go down easier with horse radish so I poured the whole jar into my cereal. When I tasted it my eyes popped out. I stopped breathing. I must've been unconscious, because I grabbed the bowl, ran over to the window and chucked the cereal out. Then I went back to the table and sat down.
Just then Mommy came back into the kitchen. She looked at my bowl and smiled. "Good for you! Not a drop left. Get up, dear. Get dressed and we'll go to the Kremlin." She kissed me.
The doorbell rang. A minute later a militiaman entered. He walked through the kitchen, looked out the window and down at the pavement. "I'd never have believed anyone could do such a thing," he said.
"What're you talking about?" Mommy demanded.
"You should be ashamed of yourself!" He seemed to be standing at attention. "You live in a fine new house with all modern conveniences, including an incinerator, by the way. But you throw all kinds of messes out the window!"
"How dare you say such a thing? I do not!"
"Oh, you don't?" He smiled, but didn't look friendly at all. He went back to the front door, opened it and said, "Come in, please."
A man entered. The minute I saw him I knew we weren't going to go to the Kremlin after all.The man had on a felt hat. My cereal was spread all over his hat. There was a big puddle of it in the dent in the middle, some on the brim, some on his collar, some on his shoulder and some on his left trouser leg. He was barely inside when he began speaking in snatches.
"I was going to have my picture taken ... and then this ... cereal. Farina... Piping hot. Burnt my head through my hat... How can I send my picture ... when I'm full of farina?"
Mommy looked at me. Her eyes got as green as gooseberries, That was a sure sign she was hopping mad.
"I'm so very sorry," she said in a low voice. "Please let me clean it up."
The three of them left the kitchen.
When Mommy came back alone I was too scared to look at her. I finally made myself go over to her, though.
"You were right, Mommy. The truth will out."
She looked me straight in the eye and kept on looking for a long time, and then she said, "Will you remember this for the rest of your life?"
"Yes."