“Got any relatives livin’ here?”
“No,” says Mr. Peabody, “nary relative.”
“Any other Peabodys hereabouts that you know of?”
The old man shook his head slow and allowed he didn’t know of any.
“Well,” says Mr. Bloom, “this here is a mystery, all right. Here’s a Jupiter Peabody that’s won the handsomest-man contest, and nobody knows him.”
“What?” says the old fellow. “What’s that? Won the handsomest-man contest? Got most votes for bein’ the handsomest man in Wicksville? Ho!” He threw back his head and roared. “Handsomest man! Whee! Think of that, now.” He sat a minute laughing like all-git-out; then he reached out with his whip and touched his mule. “Giddap, Jupiter!” says he. “Giddap!”
It was a minute before folks caught on—and then you should have heard the laugh. Jupiter, Jupiter Peabody—a mule. And he’d been elected the handsomest man in Wicksville. Everybody, including even Chet and Chancy, roared so hard they almost choked, and they pounded each other on the back and danced up and down and shrieked. It was the funniest joke that ever happened in Wicksville.
Maybe if a real man had won the losers would have been mad, but nobody won but a mule! And everybody saw the joke. I guess it was about the best way the thing could have come out.
So that was the end of the beauty contest.
In another two weeks father came home, a little lame, but so he would be all right in no time, and mother came with him. I’ll never forget the way she took Mark Tidd by the hand, nor what she said to him. It made him blink his eyes, I can tell you.