Stuart Little by E. B. White, Garth Williams Page A

her chin?” begged Isidor
Feinberg, reminiscently.
    “No,” said Stuart. “I’ll
tell you, let’s talk about the King of the World.” He looked all around the
room hopefully to see how the children liked that idea.
    “There isn’t any King of the
World,” said Harry Jamieson in disgust.
    “What’s the diff?” said
Stuart. “There ought to be one.”
    “Kings are old-fashioned,”
said Harry.
    “Well, all right then, let’s
talk about the
    Chairman of the World. The
world gets into a lot of trouble because it has no chairman. I would like to be
Chairman of the World myself.”
    “You’re too small,” said
Mary Bendix.
    “Oh, fish feathers!” said
Stuart. “Size has nothing to do with it. It’s temperament and ability that
count. The Chairman has to have ability and he must know what’s important. How many
of you know what’s important?”
    Up went all the hands.
    “Very good,” said Stuart,
cocking one leg across the other and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
“Henry Rackmeyer, you tell us what is important.”
    “A shaft of sunlight at the
end of a dark afternoon, a note in music, and the way the back of a baby’s neck
smells if its mother keeps it tidy,” answered Henry.
    “Correct,” said Stuart. “Those
are the important things. You forgot one thing, though. Mary Bendix, what did
Henry Rackmeyer forget?”
    “He forgot ice cream with
chocolate sauce on it,” said Mary quickly.
    “Exactly,” said Stuart. “Ice
cream is
    important. Well now, if I’m
going to be
    Chairman of the World this
morning, we’ve got to have
    some rules, otherwise it will
be too confusing, with
    everyone running every which
way and helping himself to things and
    nobody behaving. We’ve got to
have some laws if we’re going to play this game. Can anybody suggest any good
laws for the world?”
    Albert Fernstrom raised his
hand. “Don’t eat mushrooms, they might be toadstools,” suggested Albert.
    “That’s not a law,” said
Stuart, “that’s merely a bit of friendly advice. Very good advice, Albert, but
advice and law are not the same. Law is much more solemn than advice. Law is
extremely solemn. Anybody else think of a law for the world?”
    “Nix on swiping anything,”
suggested John Poldowski, solemnly.
    “Very good,” said Stuart. “Good
law.”
    “Never poison anything but
rats,” said
    Anthony Brendisi.
    “That’s no good,” said
Stuart. “It’s unfair to rats. A law has to be fair to everybody.”
    Anthony looked sulky. “But
rats are unfair to us,” he said. “Rats are objectionable.”
    “I know they are,” said
Stuart. “But from a rat’s point of view, poison is objectionable. A Chairman
has to see all sides to a problem.”
    “Have you got a rat’s point
of view?” asked Anthony. “You look a little like a rat.”
    “No,” replied Stuart, “I
have more the point of view of a mouse, which is very different. I see things
whole. It’s obvious to me that rats are underprivileged. They’ve never been
able to get out in the open.”
    “Rats don’t like the open,”
said Agnes Beretska.
    “That’s because whenever
they come out, somebody socks them. Rats might like the open if they were
allowed to use it. Any other ideas for laws?” Agnes Beretska raised her hand.
“There ought to be a law against fighting.”
    “Impractical,” said Stuart. “Men
like to fight. But you’re getting warm, Agnes.”
    “No scrapping?” asked Agnes,
timidly. Stuart shook his head.
    “Absolutely no being mean,”
suggested Mildred Hoffenstein.
    “Very fine law,” said
Stuart. “When I am Chairman, anybody who is mean to anybody else is going to
catch it.”
    “That won’t work,” remarked
Herbert Prendergast. “Some people are just naturally mean. Albert Fernstrom is
always being mean to me.”
    “I’m not saying it’ll work,”
said Stuart.
    “It’s a good law and we’ll
give it a try.
    We’ll give it a try right here
and now. Somebody do something