A worried 10-year-old, Julan, sat in a bus next to his mother. They were headed for his grandmother’s tiny apartment. Because Julan’s grandmother, Gran, was never welcoming, he dreaded visiting her. This day, the trip to Gran’s had Julan feeling especially grim. Due to an early morning phone call that let Julan’s mother know his usual babysitter had suddenly fallen sick, Julan was about to be left alone with Gran for the first time.
“Thanks for not making a fuss, Julan,” said his frazzled single mother. “It’s only a four-hour Saturday morning shift. After I come back for you, we’ll drop by the library, then eat out for lunch. . . . Just stay out of Gran’s way.”
Wanting to please his mother, Julan managed a weak smile as he pushed brown-framed eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. “I plan on finishing my book,” he told her, lifting the science fiction tale in his lap.
“Remember, Julan, Gran is set in her ways. She probably won’t budge from her recliner and TV. . . . Don’t forget to sit in the rocker near her kitchenette.”
“I won’t forget,” assured Julan.
Following their jaunt across town, Julan’s mother hurried him to Gran’s second floor apartment. A long ring prompted Gran to open the door. “I’m running late,” said the mother while nudging Julan into the cramped quarters, the mother then dashed for the stairs to exit the building.
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Having closed the door, then quickly returning to her recliner and movie, Gran turned toward Julan. “You can watch TV from over there,” she instructed, nodding toward the rocker Julan’s mother had mentioned.
“I have a book to read,” replied Julan as he moved in front of the rocker, then flopped backward, sending the rocker’s backrest careening into the hutch behind it—an action that accidently knocked a tea cup off it’s saucer and onto the floor.
The clank heard when the fragile cup struck the wooden floor caused Gran to spring to her feet and rush to the mishap. “Not my precious tea cup!” she called out, scanning the strewn pieces before her. Dropping to her knees, Gran made her anger clear. “It can’t be repaired! Why’d you have to be wild?” she snapped.
She’s really upset, worried a startled Julan. After rising ftom the rocker, he stood frozen while watching Gran pick up the scattered pieces her teeth clenched. “I’m sorry,” Julan apologized.
“It was an heirloom!” grumbled Gran.
Julan didn’t know what the word heirloom meant. “What’s an heirlom?” he quivered.
Gran stayed angry. “It’s something that’s passed from generation to generation.”
Yikes, thought Julan, aware he’d prevented something important to Gran from happening.
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“Thanks to you, I can’t do what I’m supposed to do,” growled Gran as she dumped the broken pieces in the trash bucket, then went to the rocker to yank it away from the hutch.
I’m in big trouble, realized Julan as he watched Gan return to her recliner and movie in a huff. She’s going to stay mad, he told himself.
During the remainder of the visit, no words were spoken. To ensure there wasn’t another accident, Julan didn’t budge.
When his mother finally returned, Julan bolted toward the door.
“Thanks,” said the Julan’s mother to his grandmother.
“Yeah, yeah,” briskly muttered Gran without turning away from the TV.
“OK, we’ll be seeing you,” replied the mother before leaving with Julan.
~
While walking to The Raneford Town Library and Museum—a building that contained usual library materials as well as a room with valuable artifacts, Julan’s mother wondered how Julan’s visit with Gran went. “You dashed into the hall when I arrived. Is there anything I shoud know?” she asked.
“Soon after you left, I rocked in the rocker too rough. . . . I broke Gran’s fancy tea cup—the one she calls an heirloom,” fessed up Julan. “We gotta find someone else to babysit me when we get stuck.”
“We’ll buy her another fancy cup,” reassured his mother.
“That may not help,” asked Julan.
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Recalling her mother talk about the cup, Julan’s mother drooped shoulders and spoke softly. “Though Gran considers the cup to be an heirloom, replacing it should help a little,” hoped the mother.”
“I’m just a kid who doesn’t know about heirlooms, but I know when I’ve messed up in a big way,” moaned Julan.
~
After entering the Raneford Town Library and Museum, Julan and his mother headed for the desk behind which was the lone worker, Mr. Mundlebranch. Along with being a pleasant fiftyish fellow who was content to receive a meager salary and who liked sporting a pale yellow tie, there was something else unique about him: He was unable to speak. The identification pin he always attached to the pocket of a worn brown corduroy suit jacket read I’m Mundlebranch. I can’t speak, but I can hear.
“Hi, Mr. Mundlebranch,” greeted Julan’s mother. “Can you recommend books for two customers who need cheering-up? We’re in the doghouse for breaking a prized tea cup that belonged to Julan’s grandmother.”
“It was a family heirloom. I’m the one who broke it,” confessed a glum Julan.
Happy to see two of his regular visitors, Mundlebranch smiled and nodded, then held up his index finger, signaling he’d return in a minute.
“Maybe he’s getting some new books he hasn’t had a chance to put on a shelf,” said the mother.
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Soon returning, Mundlebranch placed a small box on the counter in which was a dainty tea cup and saucer. After pulling a pen and small pad from his jacket pocket, he wrote quickly, then held up the following note for viewing: “I’ll never use this pretty cup and saucer. Please accept it.”
“It’s lovely. How much do you want for it?” asked Julan’s mother.
Mundlebranch lifted palms outward while nodding no. Then, after again writing on his pad, he once more held it up: “Letting me help you is an honor!” he’d written.
“That’s very nice of you,” said Julan.
Excited by the possibly of pleasing Gran, the mother accepted the tea cup. “We can’t thank you enough, Mr. Mundlebranch, right, Julan?”
“Right!” eagerly agreed Julan.
Anxious to make amends, Julan and his mother put off checking out books and having lunch so they could hurry back to Gran’s with the cup and saucer Mr. Mundlebranch had given them.
~
Before ringing Gran’s bell, Julan’s mother handed him the box containing the cup and saucer. “You give it to her,” she told him.
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“Did you leave something behind?” griped Gran while opening the door.
“No. Julan has something we want you to have,” answered Julan’s mother.
Stepping forward and extending the box, Julan waited for Gran to take it.
After hesitantly taking the box, Gran brought it to her favorite chair, where she sat, lifted the cover, then removed the newspaper wrapped around the cup and saucer.
Julan’s mother, meanwhile, explained how the they’d come by the replacement set. “When we told Mr. Mundlebranch at the Town Library and Museum about the mishap, he gave us the cup and saucer.”
“Do you like it?” asked Julan.
“It’s very old,” realized Gran, carefully examining the gift.
“Please accept it,” said Julan’s mother.
“It looks familiar,” said Gran.
That’s all the gratitude we’ll get from her, privately realized Julan’s mother. “Well, I guess we better be on our way,” she noted as she and Julan turned toward the door.
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Gran was only alone a short while when she realized where she’d previously seen the cup and saucer. “Mundlebranch gave away a museum piece!” she declared out loud, offended by the fact that a likely stolen item had been put in her possession. Upset once realizing the Town of Raneford had been wronged by Mr. Muddlebranch, Gran—a lifelong resident of the town—called the police.
~
Like other evenings, the chiming of the grandfather clock by the entrance of the Town Library and Museum drew Mundlebranch’s attention. The 9 p.m. hour meant it was time to shoo the homeless from the chairs available for visitors. This night’s vagrants were four familiar faces—individuals who appreciated a warm place to plop.
After checking out a book at the front desk, a prim woman, who’d often bluntly expressed her disgust for the comfort-seeking down-and-out, offered Mundlebranch help. “Time to boot the bums out. They’re especially ripe tonight. Want a hand?”
Mundlebranch smiled warmly while briefly shaking his head no.
“Are you sure?” asked the woman as she glanced at a nearby unkempt man, Coven, sprawled in a chair.
Mindful that mental health flare-ups can be sudden, Mundlebranch politely nodded he was sure.
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Soon alone in the building, Mundlebranch shut off the lights. Though he appeared ready to start for his apartment, that’s not what he did. Instead, he locked the front door from inside the building, then headed for the rear exit. After opening the backdoor, a blast of cold air wasn’t the only thing he encountered. Waiting to enter were seven of the usual homeless folks Mundlebrance had been helping in various ways.
Ten minutes later, the night’s arrivals were lying in sleeping bags that had been concealed in a storage closet. Confident Mundlebranch would be back just before daybreak so that all could leave unseen, everyone waved bye as he left.
~
The following day, Detective Ninkle began investigating what he would come to call Mundlebranch’s well-meaning mischief. Having tracted down a list of museum items, it didn’t take him long to discover a number of the items missing. In addition, he came upon the sleeping bags used by the homeless.
When confronted with the evidence Detective Ninkle uncovered, Mundlebranch made a full confession. Along with admitting to sheltering homeless citizens, he stated how he used the money he received selling the town’s antiques to help such citizens acquire food, medicine and other necessities. His guilty plea meant all that remained was for a judge to determine what his punishment would be for stealing from the Town of Raneford and for misusing public property
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.The sentencing hearing for Mundlebranch came about quickly. Those attending the hearing included Julan and his mother as well as eight homeless citizens.
After calling the court to order, Judge Ghisty stated the purpose of the hearing, then made known that Mundlebranch was representing himself. The no-nonsense judge also announced that the detective who’d carried out the investigation asked to speak on behalf of Mundlebranch. “You have our attention, Detective Ninkle,” stated Judge Ghristy.
Detective Ninkle stood, then faced the judge. “Thank you, Your Honor, for allowing me to speak on behalf of the guilty party—something quite rare for me. . . . While it was difficult to verify how much money Mr. Mundlebranch received by selling the museum items—some of which he replaced with similar antiques, I believe I was able to determine how he spent much of it. What I was told by homeless individuals jived with what I was told by the town doctors, pharmacists and restaurateurs who accepted payments for the care, medicine or food they provided the homeless.”
Anxious to move things along, the judge assumed Detective Kinkle was done. “Anyone else have something to add?”
The detective, however, had more to say. “I just need a minute more, Your Honor. I would like it to be known that I’ve been unable to acquire proof that Mr. Mundlebranch spent so much as a single dollar of the illegally-gained money on himself. . . . Lastly, while I don’t have an appreciation for museum antiques, I do have an appreciation for nice people. . . . In light of the fact that Mundlebranch’s mischief was, without question, well-meaning, I ask that as much leniency as possible be shown.”
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“Who’s next, Mr. Mundlebranch?” hurriedly asked the judge as Detective Kinkle sat.
Mundlebranch turned toward Julan, then nodded the boy’s way.
While rising from his seat, Julan nervously pulled a folded paper from his pants’ pocket. Then, after poking glasses closer to eyes and taking a deep breath, he stammered a bit. “I’ll be, I’ll be, reading, reading something, something Mr. Mundlebranch asked me to read—something he wrote,” relayed Julan before briefly twisting to his mother for support.
Julan’s mother smiled as she leaned toward him to squeeze his shoulder.
Feeling supported, Julan took another full breath while lifting the paper he held with both hands. “Choosing to follow my conscience, I, Mundlebrance, knowingly disobeyed the law. Because peace of mind followed each act of helpfulness, I continued to hoodwink the Town. . . . It is my hope that my offences will prod some to wonder why acts of kindness or fairness are sometimes considered a downfall.” Finished, Julan looked toward Mr. Mundlebranch for approval.
Mundlebranch readily smiled and nodded.
“Anything else?” Mr. Mundlebranch, rushed Judge Ghisty.
To everyone’s surprise, one of the indigent stood and spoke. “My name is Coven Clirk. Though I don’t have legal knowhow or whyfors, I’d like to speak up for Mr. Mundlebranch.”
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“If Mr. Mundlebranch doesn’t object, I’ll permit a brief relevant statement,” replied the judge.
After making eye contact with Coven, Mundlebranch showed gratitude by bowing his head.
Uncomfortable with public speaking, Coven rotated his head while flapping arms against sides, then spoke with a tremor, “By asking us to question why some acts of kindness or fairness are a downfall, I believe Mr. Mundlebranch is encouraging us to better value our potential for justice. . . . Though Mr. Mundlebranch knows hardships leave people disheartened, he believes no one should go without shelter, food and medicine. . . . To him, poverty is solvable, not sufferable. Though. . .”
Judge Ghisty impatiently folded arms while interrupting Coven. “OK, you made your point!”
Coven stepped toward the judge. “I’m not done!” he declared before glancing at his disheveled comrades. “We, the so-called riff-raff of the town, sneak into empty buildings in the dark not only to escape the cold but also the coldness. Thanks to Mundlebranch, we got to feel a bit less overwhelmed—we got to feel the whole world hasn’t decided we’re worthless.”
“That’s it! Sit done!” ordered Judge Ghisty while leaning forward.
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Coven wasn’t deterred. “We’re not worthless!” contended a tearful Coven as he turned to face those in attendance. “We’re beaten-down!” he cried out. Looking Judge Ghisty in the eyes, he shouted his final plea. “Please find it within you to show mercy!” be begged. With hands trembling, Coven stepped backward into the arms of friends who had approached to embrace him.
Ready to end the hearing, Judge Ghisty banged her gavel while sternly requesting order. “Settle down, everyone!”
During the bus ride home, Julan expressed his dismay at the outcome. “Sending Mr. Mundlebranch to jail for three months seems very wrong!”
“Like Judge Ghisty said, she had to follow the law,” explained his mother, also feeling dejected.
“I don’t get why she couldn’t have done what Mundlebranch did: She could have been kind and fair. . . . She made the homeless worse off,” declared Julan.
“You’re right! . . . You should feel good about yourself for bravely speaking up,” assurred the mother.
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Julan was modest. “I just said what Mr. Mundlebranch asked me to say.”
“Still, that took courage,” praised his mother.
Julan spoke with sadness. “It’s hard to see how not being a kinder, fairer person when we get the chance makes us anything but worse off.”
“I don’t see how Judge Ghisty can’t be at least a bit worse off,” declared his mother
“There’s one thing I know for sure,” said Julan.
“What’s that?” asked his mother.
“A tea cup is just a tea cup,” declared Julan as he looked out the window while wishing the world was a nicer place.
The End
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Things To Think About
1. Should valuable museum items be sold to help needy people? Explain your answer.
2. Should homeless people be allowed to sleep in libraries? Explain your answer.
3. Discuss what Coven had to say about worthlessness.
4. Was it correct to punish Mr. Mundlebranch?
5. What did Julan mean when he said “a cup is just a cup”?
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