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diff --git a/24663-h/24663-h.htm b/24663-h/24663-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef81b76 --- /dev/null +++ b/24663-h/24663-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17320 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rich Little Poor Boy, by Eleanor Gates. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } +p.cap:first-letter { float: left; clear: left; + margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; + padding: 0; + line-height: 1em; font-size: 250%; } +p.cap {text-indent: 0;} + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +.fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} +.hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rich Little Poor Boy, by Eleanor Gates + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rich Little Poor Boy + +Author: Eleanor Gates + +Release Date: February 21, 2008 [EBook #24663] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net and +and the Booksmiths at http://www.eBookForge.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a><a href="images/i.png">[i]</a></span></p> +<h1><span class="u">THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY</span><br /> + +<small>ELEANOR GATES</small></h1> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="267" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a><a href="images/ii.png">[ii]</a></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a><a href="images/iii.png">[iii]</a></span></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/gs004.jpg" width="280" height="400" alt="WHAT HE SAW THERE HELD HIM SPELLBOUND IN HIS CHAIR" title="WHAT HE SAW THERE HELD HIM SPELLBOUND IN HIS CHAIR" /> +<span class="caption">WHAT HE SAW THERE HELD HIM SPELLBOUND IN HIS CHAIR</span> +</div> + + + + +<h1> +THE RICH<br /> +LITTLE POOR BOY</h1><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a><a href="images/iv.png">[iv]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ELEANOR GATES</h2> +<div class='center'> +<small>AUTHOR OF "THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL,"</small><br /> +<small>"THE PLOW-WOMAN," "THE BIOGRAPHY OF A</small><br /> +<small>PRAIRIE GIRL," "ALEC LLOYD, COW-PUNCHER,"</small><br /> +<small>"PIGGIE," ETC.</small><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="150" height="153" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +NEW YORK :: MCMXXII :: LONDON<br /></div><hr style="width: 65%;" /><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a><a href="images/v.png">[v]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'> +<small>COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY</small><br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</small><br /></div><hr style="width: 65%;" /><p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"></a><a href="images/vi.png">[vi]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'>TO<br /> + +F. F. M.</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii"></a><a href="images/vii.png">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='center'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Wicked Giant</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Pride and Penalty</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Feast and an Excursion</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Four Millionaires</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">New Friends</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Dearest Wish</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Serious Step</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">More Treasures</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">One-Eye</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Surprise</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Discovery</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Prodigal Puffed Up</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Changes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Heaven that Nearly Happened</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Scouts</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hope Deferred</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mr. Perkins</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii"></a><a href="images/viii.png">[viii]</a></span>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Roof</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Different Cis</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Handbook</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Meeting</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cis Tells a Secret</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Roses that Tattled</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Father Pat</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Ally Crosses a Sword</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The End of a Long Day</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Another Gift</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Another Story</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Revolt</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Disaster</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Vision</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Help</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">One-Eye Fights</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sir Algernon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_357">357</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Good-bys</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_363">363</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Left Behind</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ups and Downs</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_379">379</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Another Good-by</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_391">391</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Letter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_400">400</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XL.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"The True Way"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_407">407</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix"></a><a href="images/ix.png">[ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span class="u">THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY</span><br /> + +<small>ELEANOR GATES</small></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a><a href="images/001.png">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE WICKED GIANT</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE was ten. But his clothes were forty. And it +was this difference in the matter of age, and, +consequently, in the matter of size, that explained +why, at first sight, he did not show how thin-bodied he +was, but seemed, instead, to be rather a stout little boy. +For his faded, old shirt, with its wide sleeves lopped off +just above his elbows, and his patched trousers, shortened +by the scissors to knee length, were both many times +too large for him, so that they lay upon him, front, back +and sides, in great, overlapping pleats that were, in turn, +bunched into heavy tucks; and his kitchen apron, worn +with the waistband about his neck, the strings being tied +at the back, also lent him—if viewed from the front—an +appearance both of width and weight.</p> + +<p>But he was not stout. His frame was not even fairly +well covered. From the apron hem in front, the two +legs that led down to the floor were scarcely larger than +lead piping. From the raveling ends of his short sleeves +were thrust out arms that matched the legs—bony, skinny +arms, pallid as to color, and with hardly any more shape +to them than there was to the poker of the cookstove. +But while the lead-pipe legs ended in the sort of hard, +splinter-defying boy's feet that could be met with on any +stretch of pavement outside the tenement, the bony arms +did not end in boyish hands. The hands that hung, fingertips +touching halfway to the knee, were far too big for a +boy of ten. They were red, too, as if all the blood of his +thin shoulders had run down his arms and through his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a><a href="images/002.png">[2]</a></span> +wrists, and stayed there. And besides being red, fingers, +palms and backs were lined and crinkled. They looked +like the hands of a hard-working, grown girl. That was +because they knew dish washing and sweeping, bed making +and cooking, scrubbing and laundering.</p> + +<p>But his head was all that a boy's head should be, showing +plenty of brain room above his ears. While it was +still actually—and naturally—large for his body, it looked +much too large; not only because the body that did its +bidding was undersized, but because his hair, bright and +abundant, added to his head a striking circumference.</p> + +<p>He hated his hair, chiefly because it had a hint of wave +in it, but also because its color was yellow, with even a +touch of green! He had been taunted about it—by boys. +But what was worse, women and girls had admired it, and +laid hands upon it—or wanted to. And small wonder; +for in thick undulations it stood away from forehead and +temples as if blown by the wind. A part it had not, nor +any sort of neat arrangement. He saw strictly to that. +Whenever his left hand was not busy, which was less often +than he could wish, he tugged at his locks, so that they +reared <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'themelves'">themselves</ins> on end, especially at the very top, where +they leaned in various directions and displayed what appeared +to be several cowlicks. At every quarter that shining +mop was uneven, because badly cut by Big Tom Barber, +his foster father, whose name belied his tonsorial +ability.</p> + +<p>Below that wild shock of colorful hair was a face that, +when clean, could claim attention on its own account. It +was a square-jawed little face over which the red was +quick to come, though, unhappily, it did not stay. Its +center was a nose that seemed a trifle small in proportion +to its surroundings. But the top line of it was straight, +and the nostrils were well carved, and had a way of lifting +and swelling whenever his interest was caught.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a><a href="images/003.png">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p>Under them was a mouth that was wide yet noticeably +beautiful—not with the soft beauty of a baby's mouth, or +a girl's, and not because it could boast even a touch of +scarlet. It had been cut as carefully as his nose, the lips +full yet firm, their lines drawn delicately, but with strength. +It was sensitive, with a little quirk at each corner which +betrayed its humor. Above all things, its expression was +sweet.</p> + +<p>Colorless as were his cheeks and lips, nevertheless he did +not seem a pale boy, this because his brows were a misty +yellow-white, and his thick lashes flaxen; while his eyes +were an indescribable mixture of glowing gray and blue +plentifully flecked with yellow. Perfectly adjusted were +these straight-looking eyes, and set far apart. By turns +they were quick, and bold, and open, and full of eager inquiry; +or they were thoughtfully half covered by their +heavy lids, very still, and far sighted. And when he +laughed, what with the shine of his hair and brows and +light lashes, and the flash of his eyes and his teeth, the +effect was as if sunlight were upon his face—though the +sun so seldom shone upon him that he had not one boyish +freckle.</p> + +<p>Such was Johnnie Smith.</p> + +<p>Just now he was looking smaller and less sunlit than +usual. This was because Big Tom bulked in front of him, +delivering the final orders for the day before going down +the three flights of stairs, out into the brick-paved area, +thence through a dank, ground-floor hall which bored its +way from end to end of another tenement, and into the +crowded East Side street, and so to his work on the docks.</p> + +<p>Barber was a huge-shouldered, long-armed slouch of a +man, with a close-cropped head (flat at the back) upon +which great hairy ears stood out like growths. His eyes +were bloodshot and bulging, the left with an elusive cast in +it that showed only now and then, when it testified to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a><a href="images/004.png">[4]</a></span> +kink in his brain. His nose, uneven in its downward trend, +was so fat and wide and heavy that it fairly sprawled upon +his face; and its cavernous, black nostrils made it seem +to possess something that, to Johnnie, was like a personality—as +if it were a queer sort of snakish thing, carefully +watched over by the bulging, bloodshot eyes.</p> + +<p>For Barber's nose had the power of moving itself as +Johnnie had seen no other nose move. Slowly and steadily +it went up and down whenever Barber ate or talked—as +even Johnnie's small, straight nose would often do. But +whenever Big Tom laughed—sneeringly or boastfully or +in ugly triumph—the nose would make a sudden, sidewise +twist.</p> + +<p>But something besides its power to move made it seem a +live and separate thing: the longshoreman troubled himself +to shave only of a Sunday morning, when, with all the +stiff, dark growth cleared away to right and left—for +Barber's beard grew almost to his eyes—his nose, though +bent and purplish, was fairly like a nose. But with Monday, +again the nose took on that personality; and seemed +to be crouching and writhing at the center of its mat of +stubble.</p> + +<p>But Barber's mouth was his worst feature, with its +great, pushed-out underlip, which showed his complete +satisfaction in himself. So big was that lip that it seemed +to have acquired its size through the robbing of the chin +just beneath—for Big Tom had little enough chin.</p> + +<p>But his neck was massive, and an angry red, sprinkled +with long, wiry hairs. It fastened his flat-backed head to +a body that was like a gorilla's, thick and wide and humped. +And his arms gave an added touch of the animal, for they +were so long that his great palms reached to his knees; and +so sprung out at the shoulder, and so curved in at the +wrist, that when they met at the fingers they formed a pair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a><a href="images/005.png">[5]</a></span> +of mammoth, muscled tongs—tongs that gave Barber his +boasted value in and out of ships.</p> + +<p>His legs were big, too. As he stood over Johnnie now, +it was plain to see where the boy's shaggy trousers had +come from (the grotesquely big shirt as well). Each of +those legs was almost as big as Johnnie's skimped little +body. And they turned up at the bottom in great broganned +feet that Barber was fond of using as instruments +of punishment. More than once Johnnie had felt those +feet. And if he could ever have decided how pain was to +be inflicted upon him, he would always have chosen the +long, thick, pliant strap that belted in, and held together, +his baggy clothes. For the strap left colorful tracks that +stung only in the making; but the mark of one of those +feet went black, and ached to the bone.</p> + +<p>Johnnie hated Big Tom worse than he hated his own +yellow hair. But he feared him, too. And now listened +attentively as the longshoreman, his cutty pipe smoking in +one knotted fist, his dinner pail in the other, his cargo hook +slung to his burly neck, glowered down upon him.</p> + +<p>"Git your dishes done," admonished Barber. "Don't let +the mush dry on 'em, and draw the flies."</p> + +<p>There being no question to answer, Johnnie said nothing. +Final orders of a morning were the usual thing. If +he was careful not to reply, if he waited, taking care where +he looked, the longshoreman would have his say out and +go—pressed by time. So the boy, almost holding his +breath, fastened his eyes upon a patch of wall where the +smudged plaster was broken and some laths showed. And +not a muscle of him moved, except one big toe, which he +curled and uncurled across a crack in the rough, worn +kitchen floor.</p> + +<p>"Git everything else done, too," went on Big Tom. +"You don't scrub till to-morrow, so the day's clear for +stringin' beads, or makin' vi'lets. And don't let me come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a><a href="images/006.png">[6]</a></span> +home t'night and find no hot supper. <i>You</i> hear me." He +chewed once or twice—on nothing.</p> + +<p>Johnnie continued silent, counting the laths—from the +top down, from the bottom up. But his toe moved a shade +faster. For there was a note of rising irritation in that +<i>You</i> hear me.</p> + +<p>"I say, you <i>hear</i> me!" repeated Big Tom (replies always +angered him: this time silence had). He thrust the +whole of the short stem of his "nose-warmer" into his +mouth. Then, with the free hand, he seized Johnnie by +one thin shoulder and gave him a rough, forward jerk.</p> + +<p>"Yes," acknowledged the boy, realizing too late that this +was one occasion when speech would have been safest. He +still concentrated on the laths, hoping that matters would +go no further.</p> + +<p>But that single jerk, far from satisfying Barber's rancor, +only added to it—precisely as if he had tasted something +which had whetted his appetite for more. He gripped +Johnnie's shoulder again, this time driving him back a +step. "Now, no sass!" he warned.</p> + +<p>The blood came rushing to Johnnie's face, darkening it +so that the misty yellow-white brows stood out grotesquely. +And his chest began to heave. He loathed the touch of +Barber's hand. He despised the daily orders that only +turned him against his work. But most of all he shrank +from the indignity of being jerked when it was wholly undeserved.</p> + +<p>Big Tom marked the boy's rising color. And the sight +spurred his ill-humor. "What do you do for your keep?" +he demanded. "<i>Stop</i> pullin' your hair!" He struck Johnnie's +hand down with a sweaty palm that touched the boy's +forehead. "Pullin' and hawlin' <i>all</i> the time, but don't earn +the grub y' swallow!"</p> + +<p>Just as one jerk always led to another, so one blow was +usually the prelude to a thrashing. Johnnie saw that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a><a href="images/007.png">[7]</a></span> +must stop the thing right there; must have instant help in +diverting Barber. Taking a quick, deep breath, he sounded +his call for aid—a loud, croupy cough.</p> + +<p>It was instantly answered. The door beside the cookstove +swung wide, and Cis came hurrying in from the tiny, +windowless closet—this her "own room"—where she had +been listening anxiously. "Oh, Mr. Barber," she began, +trying to keep her young voice from trembling, "this week +can I have enough out of my wages for some more shoe-whitening?"</p> + +<p>There were several ways in which to take Big Tom's +mind from any subject. The surest of these was to bring +up a question of spending. And now, answering to his +stepdaughter's subterfuge as promptly as if he were a +mechanism that had been worked by a key, he turned from +glowering down upon Johnnie to scowl at her.</p> + +<p>"<i>More?</i>" he demanded harshly.</p> + +<p>Her blue eyes met his look timidly. Out of the wisdom +of her sixteen-year-old policy, she habitually avoided him, +slipping away of a morning to her work at the pasteboard-box +factory without a word; slipping back as quietly in +the late afternoon; keeping out of his sight and hearing +whenever that was possible; and speaking to him seldom.</p> + +<p>Cis looked at every one timidly. She avoided Big Tom +not only because it was wise to do so but because she was +naturally shy and retiring, and avoided people in general. +She had a quaint face (framed by straight, light-brown +hair) that ended in a pointed, pink chin. Habitually she +wore that expression of mingled understanding and responsibility +common to all children who have brought up +other children. So that she seemed older than she was. +But her figure was that of a child—slim, frail, and still +lacking a woman's shapeliness, notwithstanding the fact +that it had long carried the burdens of a grown-up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a><a href="images/008.png">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Facing her stepfather now, she did not falter. "Yes, +please," she answered. "The last, I got a month ago."</p> + +<p>His pipe was in his fist again, and he was chewing wrathfully. +"I'll see," he growled. And waved her to go.</p> + +<p>From the hall door, she glanced back at Johnnie. Not +only had she and he a system of communication by means +of coughs, humming, whistles, taps and other audible +sounds; and a second system (just as good) that depended +upon wall marks, soap-inscribed hieroglyphics on the bit +of mirror in Cis's room, or the arrangement of dishes on +the kitchen table, and pots and pans on the stove, but they +had a well-worked-out silent system—by means of brow-raisings, +eye and lip movements, head tippings and swift +finger pointings—that was as perfect and satisfactory as +the dumb conversation of two colts. Such a system was +necessary; for whenever the great figure of Barber came +wedging itself through the hall door, and his presence, like +a blighting shadow, darkened the already dark little flat, +then the two young voices had to fall instantly silent, since +Barber would brook no noise—least of all whispering.</p> + +<p>Now by the quick, sidewise tip of her small, black-hatted +head, Cis inquired of Johnnie whether she should stay or +go. And Johnnie, with what amounted to an upward fling +of his eyelids, answered that she need not stay. With +Barber's cutty once more in his right fist, and with his +mind veered to a fresh subject, Johnnie knew the crisis was +past.</p> + +<p>With a swift glance of affection and sympathy, not unmixed +with triumph over the success of her interruption, +Cis fluttered out—leaving the door open at Barber's back.</p> + +<p>The longshoreman turned heavily as if to follow her, +but came about with a final caution, lowering his voice to +cheat any busy ear in the other flat on the same floor. +"Don't you neglect the old man," he charged. "Face—hair—fix +him up—<i>you</i> know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a><a href="images/009.png">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the stove, an untidy heap of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'theadbare'">threadbare</ins>, brown blanket, +in a wheel chair suddenly stirred. In several ways old +Grandpa was like a big baby, but particularly in this habit +of waking promptly whenever he was mentioned. "Is that +you, Mother?" he asked in his thin, old voice. (He meant +Big Tom's mother, dead now these many years.)</p> + +<p>A swift change came over Barber's face. His great underlip +drew in, what chin he had was thrust out with something +like concern, and his eyes rolled away from Johnnie +to the whimpering old man. "It's all right, Pa," he said +soothingly. "It's all right. Jus' you sleep." Then he +turned, tiptoed through the door, and shut it after him +softly.</p> + +<p>Johnnie did not move—except to shift his look from the +laths to the door knob, and take up his toeing of the crack +at his feet. The door itself moved, and rattled gently, as +the area door three flights below was opened by Cis, and a +gust from the narrow court was sent up the stairs of the +tenement, as a bubble forces its way surfaceward through +water, to suck at the Barber door.</p> + +<p>But Big Tom was not yet gone. And a moment later, +the boy was looking at the outer knob, now in the clutch +of several great, grimy, calloused fingers.</p> + +<p>"Let your hair <i>alone!</i>" ordered the longshoreman. Then +the door closed finally, and the stairs complained with loud +creakings as Barber descended them.</p> + +<p>Johnnie waited till the door in front of him moved and +rattled again, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a><a href="images/010.png">[10]</a></span>—</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>PRIDE AND PENALTY</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HIS toe stopped working across the crack in the +floor. His left hand forsook his tousled hair +and fell to his side. His eyes narrowed, and his +chin came up. Then his lips began to move, noiselessly. +"I'll pay him up for that!" he promised. "I'll make him +wish he didn't shove me! This time, I'll think a' <i>awful</i> bad +think about him! I'll think the worst think I <i>can!</i> I'll—I'll——"</p> + +<p>He paused to decide. He had many "thinks" for the +punishing of Big Tom, each of them ending in the desertion +of that gentleman, who was always left helplessly groveling +and pleading while Johnnie made a joyous, triumphant +departure. Which of all those revenges would he select +this morning? Would he go, after handing the longshoreman +over to the harshest patrolman in New York? or would +it be a doctor who would remain behind in the flat with the +tyrant, assuring Johnnie, as the latter sauntered out of +the kitchen for the very last time, that no skill on earth +could entirely mend the hurts which he had so bravely inflicted +upon his groaning foster father? or would he set +sail grandly from the Battery for some port at least a +million miles away, his last view of the metropolis including +in its foreground, along with a brass band and many dignitaries +of the city, the kneeling shape of a wretched dock-worker +who had repented of his meanness too late?</p> + +<p>Suddenly Johnnie caught his breath, his eyes dilated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a><a href="images/011.png">[11]</a></span> +his fingers began to play against his palms. He had decided. +And in that same instant, a change came over him—complete, +satisfactory, astonishing.</p> + +<p>Now, instead of the ragged, little boy upon whom Big +Tom had glowered down—a meek boy, subdued, even crestfallen, +whose eyes were lowered, and whose lashes blinked +fearsomely, he was quite a good deal taller, boldly erect, +proud in his poise, light on his neatly shod feet, confident +and easy in his manner, with a charming smile to right and +left as ringing cheers went up for him while he awaited the +lessening of the pleasant tribute, his composure really quite +splendid, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his absolutely +new, light-gray suit, which had knee pants.</p> + +<p>A change had also taken place in the Barber kitchen. +Now the walls were freshly papered in a regal green-and-gold +pattern which, at the floor line, met a thick, red carpet. +Red velvet curtains hung at either side of the window. +Splendid, fat chairs were set carelessly here and there; and +a marble-topped table behind Johnnie was piled with a +variety of delectable dishes, including several pies oozing +juice.</p> + +<p>And the crowd that pressed up to the hall door! It +was worthy of his pride, for it was a notable gathering. +In it was no tenant of the building, no neighbor from other, +near-by flats, and not a single member of that certain +rough gang which haunted the area, the dark halls leading +into it, and all the blocks round about.</p> + +<p>Indeed, no! Even in his "thinks" Johnnie was most +careful regarding the selection of his companions, his social +trend being ever upward. And he was never small +about any crowd of his, but always had everybody he could +remember who was anybody—a riot of famous people. On +this occasion he was reaching into truly exclusive circles. +Naturally, then, this was a well-dressed assemblage, strikingly +equipped with silk hats (there were no ladies present)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a><a href="images/012.png">[12]</a></span> +and gold-headed canes; and every gentleman in the +gathering wore patent-leather shoes, and a vest that did +not match his coat. All were smart and shaven and +wealthy. In their lead, uniformed in khaki, and wearing +the friendliest look possible to a young man who is cheering, +was His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.</p> + +<p>Like all the others in that wildly enthusiastic gathering, +the young heir apparent was turned toward Johnnie as +toward a hero. And small wonder. For there, between +the distinguished crowd and the boy, lying prone upon the +red carpet, in his oldest clothes, and unshaven, was none +other than Big Tom Barber, felled by the single, overwhelming +blow that Johnnie had just given him, his nose +bleeding (not too much, however) and the breath clean +knocked out of him.</p> + +<p>Now the shouting died away, and Johnnie addressed the +admiring throng. But his lips moved without even a whisper. +"I made up my mind a long time ago," he began, "to +give Tom Barber a good thrashin'. So this morning, I +done it."</p> + +<p>Despite his ungrammatical conclusion, the speech called +forth the resounding hurrahs of the Prince and his gentlemen, +and once more Johnnie had to wait, striving to appear +properly modest, and twirling a gold watch chain all of +heavy links. But he could not keep his nostrils from swelling, +or his eyes from flashing. And his chest heaved.</p> + +<p>It was now that he made Cis one of his audience, dressing +her in a becoming pink gown (her favorite color). Old +Grandpa was standing beside her, no longer feeble and +chair bound, but handsomely overcoated and hatted, and +looking as formidable as any policeman. These two, +naturally enough, had only proud glances for the young +champion of the hour.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie's task of subduing Barber was not finished. +The brave boy could see that the big longshoreman was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a><a href="images/013.png">[13]</a></span> +making as if to rise. Johnnie could still feel the touch of +Big Tom's perspiring hand on his forehead, and the pinch +of those cruel fingers on his shoulder. Taking a forward +step, he gave Barber's shoulder a wrenching jerk, then +thrust the longshoreman backward by a spanking blow +of the open palm full upon that big, ugly, bristling face.</p> + +<p>Again Barber fell prostrate. He was purple with mortification, +and leered up at Johnnie murderously.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! Y' got enough?" Johnnie inquired. He was +all of a glow now, and his face fairly shone. But he was +not done with the tyrant. A sense of long-outraged justice +made him hand Barber the big, black, three-legged, iron +kettle that belonged on the back of the cookstove. There +was some cold oatmeal in the bottom of the kettle, and +Johnnie also handed the longshoreman a spoon—with a +glance toward the Prince, who seemed awed by Johnnie's +complete mastery of the enemy. "Here!" the boy directed, +giving the pot a light kick with a new shoe (which was +brown). "Go ahead and eat. Eat ev'ry bite of it. <i>It's +got kerosene in it!</i>"</p> + +<p>Now Barber got to his knees imploringly. "Oh, don't +make me eat it!" he begged. "Oh, don't, Johnnie! Please!"</p> + +<p>"Y' made <i>me</i> eat it once," said Johnnie quietly. "And +y' need a lesson, Tom Barber, and I'm givin' y' one."</p> + +<p>Barber choked down the bad-tasting food. But there +was no taunting of him. Johnnie kept a dignified silence—as +did also the Prince and the gentlemen. But when the +last spoonful was swallowed, and Barber was cowering beside +the empty kettle, the boy felt called upon to go still +further, and make away finally with that strap which was +the symbol of all he hated—that held up and together the +too-large clothes which had so long mortified his pride; +that stood for the physical pain dealt out to him by Big +Tom if he so much as slighted a bit of his girl's work.</p> + +<p>The strap was around him now, even over that new suit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a><a href="images/014.png">[14]</a></span> +It circled him like a snake. He took it off, his lips working +in another splendid speech. "And I don't wear it ever +again," he declared, looking down at Barber. "Do y' understand +that?" He flicked a big arm with the leather, +though not hard enough to give pain.</p> + +<p>"Yes," faltered the longshoreman, shrinking.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad y' understand it," returned Johnnie. +"And now you just watch me for <i>on-n-ne</i> second! You +won't never lay this strap across <i>me></i> again!"</p> + +<p>He whipped out a long, sharp, silver-handled bread-knife. +Then turning to the table, he laid the strap upon +the beautiful marble; and, in sight of all, cut it away to +the very buckle—inch by inch!</p> + +<p>"Now!" he cried, as he scattered the pieces upon the +carpet.</p> + +<p>The punishment was complete; his triumph nothing less +than perfect. And it occurred to him now that there was +particular gratification in having present this morning His +Royal Highness. "Mister Prince," he said, "I'm awful +tickled you was here!"</p> + +<p>The Prince expressed himself as being equally pleased. +"Mister Smith," he returned, "I don't know as I ever seen +a boy that could hit like you! Why, Mister Smith, it's +<i>wonderful!</i> How do y' do it?" He shook Johnnie's hand +warmly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I'm like David, Mister Prince," Johnnie +explained modestly. "O' course you know David—and his +friend, Mister Goli'th?—Oh, y' <i>don't?</i> Y' mean y' ain't +never met neither <i>one?</i> Oh, gee! I'm surprised! But +that's 'cause y' don't know Mrs. Kukor, upstairs. They're +both friends of hers. Well, I'll ask 'em down."</p> + +<p>An upturned face and a beckoning arm accomplished +the invitation, whereupon there entered at once the champion +Philistine and that youth who was ruddy and of a +fair countenance. And after a deal of hand-shaking all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a><a href="images/015.png">[15]</a></span> +around, Johnnie told the tale of that certain celebrated +fight—told it as one who had witnessed the whole affair. +He turned his face from side to side as he talked, gesticulating +with easy grace.</p> + +<p>"And now I guess we're ready t' start, ain't we?" he observed +as he concluded. "David, would you and your +friend like t' come along?—Only Big Tom, he's got t' stay +behind, 'cause——"</p> + +<p>At the stove, the untidy heap of brown blanket in the +wheel chair stirred again. Out of the faded folds a small +head, blanched and bewhiskered, reared itself weakly. +"Johnnie," quavered old Grandpa. "Johnnie! Milk!"</p> + +<p>The boy's lips ceased to frame words. His right arm +fell to his side; the left went up again to resume that tugging +at his hair. He swayed slightly, shifting his weight, +and his big toe began once more to curl and uncurl. Then, +as fancy was displaced by reality, as dreaming gave place +to fact, Barber disappeared from the floor. The silk-hatted +gentlemen with the gold canes went, too—along with +the gallant young English Prince, that other Prince who +was of Israel, and a tall person with a sore, red bump on +his forehead. The gold-and-green walls faded; so did the +carpet, the curtains, and that light-gray suit (which was +precisely like the one Johnnie had worn when he first came +to the Barber flat—except, of course, that it was larger). +The marble-topped table and the fat chairs folded themselves +up out of sight. And all those delicious fruit pies +dissolved into thin air.</p> + +<p>But one thing did not go: A sense of satisfaction. Having +met his enemy before the world, and conquered him; +having spent his own anger and loathing, and revenged the +other's hated touch, his gray eyes held a pleased, proud +look. Once more in the soiled big shirt and trousers, with +the strap coiled about his middle, he could put Barber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a><a href="images/016.png">[16]</a></span> +aside for the day—not brood about him, harboring ill-will, +nor sulk and fret.</p> + +<p>Now he was ready for "thinks" of a different sort—adventures +that were wholly delightful.</p> + +<p>A feeling of joy surged through him. Ahead lay fully +nine unhampered hours. He pivoted like a top. His arms +tossed. Then, like a spring from which a weight has been +lifted, like a cork flying out of a charged bottle, he did a +high, leaping hop-skip straight into the air.</p> + +<p>"Wow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" he sang out full-throatedly. +"Rr-r-r-r! ree-ee-ee!"—and explosively, "Brt! brt! brt! +<i>bing!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a><a href="images/017.png">[17]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>A FEAST AND AN EXCURSION</h3> + + +<p class="cap">NINE free hours!—or, to be exact, eight, since the +best part of one would have to be devoted to the +flat in order to avoid trouble. However, Johnnie +never did his work any sooner than he actually had to; and +that hour of labor should be, as always, the last of the nine, +this for the sake of obeying Big Tom at the latest possible +time, of circumventing his wishes, and thwarting and outwitting +him, just to the degree that safety permitted.</p> + +<p>So! For eight hours Johnnie would live his dreams. +And, oh, the things he could do! the things!</p> + +<p>But before he could begin the real business of the day, +he had to put Grandpa to sleep again. This was best accomplished +through tiring the little old man with a long, +exciting train trip. "Oo, Grandpa!" cried Johnnie. +"Who wants to go ride-ride on the cars?"</p> + +<p>"Cars! cars! cars!" shrilled Grandpa, his white-lashed, +milky-blue eyes dancing. At once, impatiently, he fell to +tapping on the floor with his cane, while, using his other +hand, he swung the wheel chair in a circle. Across his +shrunken chest, from one side of the chair to the other, was +a strand of rope that kept him from tumbling out of his +seat. To hasten the promised departure, he began to +throw his weight alternately against the rope and the back +of the chair, like an excited baby.</p> + +<p>"Wait now!" admonished Johnnie. He took off his +apron and wadded it into a ball. Then with force and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a><a href="images/018.png">[18]</a></span> +fervor he sent the ball whizzing under the sink. "Where'll +we go?" he cried. The bottoms of his trouser legs hung +about his knees in a fringe. Now as he did another hop-skip +into the air, not so much because of animal spirits as +through sheer mental relief, all that fringe whipped and +snapped. "Pick out a place, Grandpa!" he bade. "Where +do y' want t' go?"</p> + +<p>"Go! go! go!" chanted the old man. Not so long ago +he had been able to call up a score of destinations—most +of them names that had to do with the Civil War campaigns +which, in the end, had impaired his brain and cost +him the use of his legs.</p> + +<p>Johnnie proceeded to prompt. "Gettysburg?" he asked; +"Shiloh? Chick'mauga? City of Washingt'n? Niaggery +Falls?"</p> + +<p>"Niaggery Falls!" cried Grandpa, catching, as he always +did, at whatever point was named last. "Where's my +hat? Where's my hat?"</p> + +<p>He never remembered how to find his hat, though it always +hung conveniently on the back of the wheel chair. +It was the dark, broad-brimmed, cord-encircled head covering +of the Grand Army man. As he turned his head in +a worried search for it, Johnnie set the hat atop the white +hair.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had named Niagara last because he liked best +to visit that Wonder of Nature. He did not know why—except +that the name seemed curiously familiar to him. It +was familiar to Grandpa, too, in a dim way, for he had +visited "the Falls" on his wedding trip. And every repetition +of the imaginary journey thrilled him.</p> + +<p>"Chug! chug! chug!" he began, the moment he felt the +hat. His imitation of a starting engine was so genuine +that it shook his spare frame from his head to his slippered +feet. "Chug! chug! chug!"</p> + +<p>But Johnnie was not ready to set off. The little, old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a><a href="images/019.png">[19]</a></span> +soldier had not yet eaten his breakfast, and if he did not +eat he would not go to sleep promptly at the conclusion of +the trip, nor stay asleep.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Grandpa," began the boy coaxingly, as he hastily +dished up a saucer of oatmeal, another saucer of prunes, +and poured a glass of milk, "before we start we got t' eat +our grand banquet! It's a long way to Niaggery, y' know. +So here we both are at the Grand Central Station!" (The +Station was situated on or about the center of the kitchen.)</p> + +<p>"Station!" echoed Grandpa. "Chug! chug! chug!"</p> + +<p>"No, Grandpa,"—Johnnie's manner of handling the old +man was comically mature, almost motherly; his tone, +while soothing, was quietly firm, as if he were speaking to +a younger child. "See! Here's the fine table!"</p> + +<p>Up to this table, still strewn with unwashed dishes and +whatever remained of breakfast, the pair of travelers drew. +Then Johnnie, with the air and the lavishness of a millionaire, +ordered an elaborate and tasty breakfast from a +waiter the like of whom was not to be found anywhere save +in his own imagination.</p> + +<p>This waiter's name was Buckle, and he had served Johnnie +faithfully for the past several years. In all ways he +was an extraordinary person of his kind, being able to furnish +anything that Grandpa and Johnnie might call for, +whether meat, vegetable or fruit, at any time of the year, +this without regard to such small matters as seasons, the +difficulties of importing, adverse hunting laws, and the like. +Which meant that Grandpa could always have his venison, +and Johnnie his choice of fruits—all from the deft hand +of a man quick and soft-footed, and full of low bows, who +wore a suit of red velvet fairly loaded with gold bands and +brass buttons.</p> + +<p>"Mister Buckle," began Johnnie (for such an august +creature in red velvet could not be addressed save with a +courteous title), "a turkey, please, an' some lemon pie, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a><a href="images/020.png">[20]</a></span> +some strawberry ice cream an' fifteen pounds of your best +candy."</p> + +<p>"Candy! candy! candy!" clamored Grandpa, impatiently +beating on the table with his spoon like a baby.</p> + +<p>Buckle was wonderful. As Johnnie's orders swept him +hither and thither, how he transformed the place, laying +down the articles called for upon a crisp red tablecloth +that was a glorious full brother to one that belonged to +the little Jewish lady who lived upstairs. But Grandpa +took little interest in Buckle, though he picked eagerly +enough at the viands which Johnnie urged upon him.</p> + +<p>"Here's your turkey," pointed out the boy, giving the +old man his first spoonful of cereal. "My goodness, did y' +ever <i>see</i> such a drumstick! Now another!—'cause, gee! +you'll be starved 'fore ever we git t' Niaggery! Mm! but +ain't that turkey fine?"</p> + +<p>"Mm! Mm!" agreed the veteran.</p> + +<p>"Mister Buckle, I'll take some soda and some popcorn," +went on Johnnie, spooning out his own saucer of oatmeal. +"And some apples and oranges, and bananas and cherries +and grapes."</p> + +<p>Fruit was what he always ordered. How almost terribly +at times he yearned for it! For the only fruit that +ever Barber brought home was prunes. Johnnie washed +them and put them over the fire to boil with a regularity +due to his fear of the strap. But he hated them. (Likewise +he pitied them—because they seemed such little, old +creatures, and grew in that shriveled way which reminded +him somehow of Grandpa.) What he longed for was fresh +fruit, which he got only at long intervals, this when Cis +carried home to him a few cherries in the bottom of a paper +bag, or part of an apple which was generously specked, +and so well on its way to ruin, or shared the half of a +lemon, which the two sucked, turn about, all such being the +gifts of a certain old gentleman with a wooden leg who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a><a href="images/021.png">[21]</a></span> +carried on a thriving trade in the vicinity of the nearest +public school. But the periods between the contributions +were so long, and the amount of fruit consumed was so +small, that Johnnie was never even a quarter satisfied—except +at one of his Barmecide feasts.</p> + +<p>Grandpa's oatmeal and milk finished, Johnnie urged the +prunes upon him. "Oo, lookee at the watermelon!" he +cried. "The dandy, big watermelon!—<i>on ice!</i>"</p> + +<p>The mere word "watermelon" always stirred a memory +in old Grandpa's brain, as if he could almost recall when +he, a young soldier of the North, had taken his fill of sweet, +black-seeded, carnation-tinted pulp at some plantation in +the harried South. And now he ate greedily till the last +prune was gone, when Johnnie had Buckle throw all of the +green rinds into the sink. (It was this attention to detail +which invested his games with reality.) Then, the repast +finished, Grandpa fretted to be away, whirling his chair +and whimpering.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had eaten through a perfect menu only as an +unfillable boy can. So he dismissed Buckle with a thousand-dollar +bill, and the two travelers were off, Johnnie +making a great deal of jolly noise as he fulfilled the duties +of engineer, engine and conductor, Grandpa having nothing +to do but be an appreciative passenger.</p> + +<p>To the old man the dish cupboard, which was Carthage, +in "York State," never lost its interest, he having lived in +that town long years ago, before he marched out of it with +a company of men who were bound for the War. But the +morris chair with its greasy cushions, which was the capital, +Albany, and the cookstove, which was very properly +Pittsburgh (though the surface of the earth had to be +wrenched about in order to put Pittsburgh after Albany +on the way to "the Falls"), both of these estimable cities +also won their share of attention, the special train bearing +the pair making a stop at each, though the passengers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a><a href="images/022.png">[22]</a></span> +boy and man, longed quite naturally for a sight of the +Marvel of Waters which awaited them at the end of the +line.</p> + +<p>But Pittsburgh left behind, and Buffalo (the woodbox) +all but grinding under their wheels, neither Grandpa nor +Johnnie could withstand longer the temptation to push +forward to wonderful Niagara itself. With loud hissings, +toot-toots, and guttural announcements on the part of the +conductor, the wheel chair drew up with a twisting flourish—at +the sink.</p> + +<p>And now came the most exciting moment of all. For +here imagination had to be called upon least. This Niagara +was liquid. And held back its vast flood—or poured +it—just as Johnnie chose. He proceeded to have it pour. +With Grandpa's cane, he rapped peremptorily twice—then +once—on the big lead pipe which, leading through the +ceiling as a vent to Mrs. Kukor's sink, debouched in turn +into the Barber sink.</p> + +<p>A moment's wait. Then some one began to cross the +floor overhead with an astonishing sound of rocking yet +with little advance—in the way that a walking doll goes +forward. This was Mrs. Kukor herself, who was motherhood +incarnate to Johnnie; motherhood boiled down into +an unalloyed lump; the pure essence of it in a fat, round +package. The little Jewish lady never objected to this +regular morning interruption of her work. And so the +next moment, the miracle happened. Lake Erie began to +empty itself; and with splashes, gurgles and spurts, the +cataract descended upon the pots and pans heaped in the +Barber sink.</p> + +<p>The downpour was greeted by a treble chorus of delight +from the tourists. "Oh, Grandpa!" cried Johnnie, jumping +up and down. "Ain't it fine! Ain't it fine!" And +"Fine!" chimed in the old man, swaying himself against +his breast rope. "Fine! Fine!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a><a href="images/023.png">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>One long half-minute Niagara poured—before the admiring +gaze of the two in the special. Then the great +stream became dammed, the rush of its waters ceased, except +for a weak trickle, and the ceiling gave down the +sound of a rocking step bound away, followed by the +squeaking of a chair. Mrs. Kukor was back at work.</p> + +<p>The train returned silently to Pittsburgh, the Grand +Army hat was taken off and hung in its place, the blanket +was pulled up about Grandpa's shoulders, and this one of +the pair of travelers was left to take his rest. Comfortable +and swift as the whole journey was, nevertheless the +feeble, old soldier was tired. His pale blue eyes were roving +wearily; the chair at a standstill, down came their lids, +and his head tipped sidewise.</p> + +<p>He looked as much like a small, gray monkey as his +strapping son resembled a gorilla. As Johnnie tucked the +blanket about the thin old neck, Grandpa was already +breathing regularly, the while he made the facial grimaces +of a new-born child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a><a href="images/024.png">[24]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE FOUR MILLIONAIRES</h3> + + +<p class="cap">JOHNNIE always started his own daily program with +a taste of fresh air. He cared less for this way of +spending his first fifteen free minutes than for many +another. But as Cis, with her riper wisdom, had pointed +out, a short airing was necessary to a boy who had no red +in his cheeks, and too much blue at his temples—not to +mention a pinched look about the nose. Johnnie regularly +took a quarter of an hour out of doors.</p> + +<p>He took it from the sill of the kitchen window—which +was the only window in the Barber flat.</p> + +<p>This sill was breast-high from the kitchen floor, Johnnie +not being tall for his age. But having shoved up the +lower sash with the aid of the broom handle, he did not +climb to seat himself upon the ledge. For there was no +iron fire escape outside; the nearest one came down the +wall of the building to the kitchen window of the Gamboni +family, to the left. And so Johnnie denied himself a perch +on his sill—a dangerous position, as both Mrs. Kukor and +Cis pointed out to him.</p> + +<p>Their warnings were unnecessary. He could easily +realize what a slip of the hand might mean: a plunge +through space to the brick paving far below; and there +an instant and horrible end. His picture of it was enough +to guard him against accident. He contented himself with +laying his body across the sill, with the longer and heavier +portion of his small anatomy balanced securely against a +shorter and lighter upper portion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a><a href="images/025.png">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>He achieved this position and held it untiringly by the +aid of the old rope coil. This coil was a relic of those distant +times when there was no fire escape even outside the +kitchen window of the Gambonis, and the landlord provided +every tenant with this cruder means of flying the +building. The rope hung on a large hook just under the +Barber window, and was like a hard, smudged wheel, so +completely had the years and the climate of the kitchen +colored and stiffened it. And Johnnie's weight was not +enough to elongate its set curves.</p> + +<p>It was a handy affair. Using it as a stepping-place, +and pulling himself up by his hands, he brought the lower +end of his breastbone into contact with the sill. Resting +thus, upon his midriff, he was thoroughly comfortable, due +to the fact that Big Tom's shirt and trousers thoroughly +padded his ribby front. Then he swelled his nostrils with +his intaking of air, and his back heaved and fell, so that +he was for all the world like some sort of a giant lizard, +sunning itself on a rock.</p> + +<p>Against the dingy black-red of the old wall, his yellow +head stood forth as gaudily as a flower. The flower nodded, +too, as if moved by the breeze that was wreathing the +smoke over all the roofs. For Johnnie was taking a general +survey of the scenery.</p> + +<p>The Barber window looked north, and in front of it were +the rear windows of tenements that faced on a street. +There was a fire escape at every other one of these windows—the +usual spidery affair of black-painted iron, +clinging vinelike to the bricks. And over each escape were +draped garments of every hue and kind, some freshly +washed, and drying; others airing. Mingling with the +apparel were blankets, quilts, mattresses, pillows and +babies.</p> + +<p>Somehow Johnnie did not like the view. He glanced +down into the gloomy area, where a lean and untidy cat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a><a href="images/026.png">[26]</a></span> +was prowling, and where there sounded, echoing, the undistinguishable +harangue of the fretful Italian janitress.</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie's general survey was done. He always +made it short, wasting less than one minute in looking +down or around. It was beauty that drew him—beauty +and whatever else could start up in his mind the experiences +he most liked. His face upturned, one hand flung +across his brows to shield his eyes, for the light outside the +sill seemed dazzling after the semidark of the flat, he +scanned first the opposite roof edges, a whole story higher +than he, where sparrows were alighting, and where smoke +plumes curled like veils of gossamer; next he scanned the +sky.</p> + +<p>Above the roofline of the tenements was a great, changing +patch which he called his own, and which he found fascinating. +And not only for what it actually showed him, +which was splendid enough, but for the eternal promise of +it. At any moment, what might not come slipping into +sight!</p> + +<p>What he longed most to catch sight of was—a stork. +Those babies across on the fire escapes, storks had brought +them (which was the main reason why all the families kept +bedclothes out on the barred shelves; a quilt or a pillow +made a soft place on which to leave a new baby). A stork +had brought Cis—she had had her own mother's word for +it many times before that mother died. A stork had +brought Johnnie, too—and Grandpa, Mrs. Kukor, the +Prince of Wales, the janitress; in fact, every one.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what kind of a stork was it that fetched <i>Big +Tom!</i>" Johnnie once had exclaimed, straightway visioning +a black and forbidding bird.</p> + +<p>Storks, according to Cis, were as bashful as they were +clever, and did not come into sight if any one was watching. +They were big enough to be seen easily, however, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a><a href="images/027.png">[27]</a></span> +proven by this: frequently one of them came floating down +with twins!</p> + +<p>"Down from where?" Johnnie had wanted to know, liking +to have his knowledge definite.</p> + +<p>"From their nests, silly," Cis had returned. But had +been forced to confess that she did not know where storks +built their nests. "In Central Park, I guess," she had +added. (Central Park was as good a place as any.)</p> + +<p>"Oh, you guess!" Johnnie had returned, disgusted.</p> + +<p>He had never given up his watching, nor his hope of +some day seeing a big baby-bringer. He searched his sky +patch now. But could see only the darting sparrows and, +farther away, some larger birds that wheeled gracefully +above the city. Many of these were seagulls. The others +were pigeons, and Cis had told him that people ate them. +This fact hurt him, and he tried not to think about it, but +only of their flight. He envied them their freedom in the +vast milkiness, their power to penetrate it. Beyond the +large birds, and surely as far away as the sun ever was, +some great, puffy clouds of a blinding white were shouldering +one another as they sailed northward.</p> + +<p>Out of the wisdom possessed by one of her advanced age, +Cis had told him several astonishing things about this field +of sky. What Barber considered a troublesome, meddlesome, +wasteful school law was, at bottom, responsible for +her knowing much that was true and considerable which +Johnnie held was not. And one of her unbelievable statements +(this from his standpoint) was to the effect that his +sky patch was constantly changing,—yes, as frequently +as every minute—because the earth was steadily moving. +And she had added the horrifying declaration that this +movement was in the nature of <i>a spin</i>, so that, at night, the +whole of New York City, including skyscrapers, bridges, +water, streets, vehicles and population, <i>was upside down +in the air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a><a href="images/028.png">[28]</a></span>!</i></p> + +<p>"Aw, it ain't so!" he cried, though Cis reminded him +(and rather sternly, for her) that in doing so he was questioning +a teacher who drew a magnificent salary for +spreading just such statements. "And if they pay her all +that money, they're crazy! Don't y' know that if we was +t' come upside down, the chimnies'd fall off all the buildin's? +and East River'd <i>spill?</i>"</p> + +<p>Cis countered with a demonstration. She filled Big +Tom's lunch pail with water and whirled it, losing not a +drop.</p> + +<p>But he went further, and proved her wrong—that is so +far as the upside-down of it was concerned. He did this +by staying awake the whole of the following night and noting +that the city stayed right-side up throughout the long +hours. Cis, poor girl, had been pitifully misinformed.</p> + +<p>But the changing of the sky he believed. He believed it +because at night there was the kind of sky overhead that +had stars in it; also, sometimes, a moon. But by dawn, +the starred sky was gone—been left behind, or got slipped +to one side; in its place was a plain, unpatterned stretch +of Heaven which, in due time, was once more succeeded by +a firmament adorned and a-twinkle.</p> + +<p>When Cis returned home one evening and declared that +the forewoman at the factory had asserted that there were +stars everywhere in the sky by day as well as by night, and +no plain spots at all anywhere; and, further, that if anybody +were at the bottom of a deep well he—or she—could +see stars in the sky in the daytime, Johnnie had fairly +hooted at the tale. And had finally won Cis over to his +side.</p> + +<p>Her last doubt fled when, having gone down into a dark +corner of the area the Sunday following, she found, as did +he, that no stars were to be seen anywhere. After that +she believed in his theory of starless sky-spots; starless, +but not plain. For in addition to the sun, many other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a><a href="images/029.png">[29]</a></span> +things lent interest to that field of blue—clouds, rain, +sleet, snow, and fog, all in their time or season. Also, besides +the birds, he occasionally glimpsed whole sheets of +newspapers as they ambitiously voyaged above the house +tops. And how he longed for them to blow against his +own window, so that he might read them through and +through!</p> + +<p>Sometimes he saw a flying machine. The first one that +had floated across his sky had very nearly been the death +of him. Because, forgetting danger in his rapturous excitement, +he had leaned out dangerously, and might have +fallen if he had not suddenly thought of Grandpa, and +thrown himself backward into the kitchen to fetch the +wheel chair. The little old soldier had only been mildly +diverted by the sight. Johnnie, however, had viewed the +passing of the biplane in amaze, though later on he came +to accept the conquest of the air as just one more marvel +in a world of marvels.</p> + +<p>But his wonder in the sky itself never lessened. About +its width he did not ponder, never having seen more than +a narrow portion of it since he was big enough to do much +thinking. But, oh, the depth of it! He could see no sign +of a limit to that, and Mrs. Kukor declared there was +none, but that it reached on and on and on and on! To +what? Just to more of the on and on. It never stopped.</p> + +<p>One night Cis and he, bent over the lip of the window, +she upholstered on a certain excelsior-filled pillow which +was very dear to her, and he padded by Big Tom's cast-offs, +had attempted to realize what Mrs. Kukor had said. +"On—and on—and on—and on," they had murmured. +Until finally just the trying to comprehend it had become +overpowering, terrible. Cis declared that if they kept at +it she would certainly become dizzy and fall out. And so +they had stopped.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie was not afraid to think about it, awful as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a><a href="images/030.png">[30]</a></span> +it was. It was at night, mostly, that he did his thinking. +At night the birds he loved were all asleep. But so was +Barber; and Johnnie, with no fear of interruption, could +separate himself from the world, could mentally kick it +away from under him, and lightly project his thin little +body up to the stars.</p> + +<p>Whenever fog or clouds screened the sky patch, hiding +the stars, a radiance was thrown upon the heavens by the +combined lights of the city—a radiance which, Johnnie +thought, came from above; and he was always half expecting +a strange moon to come pushing through the cloud +screen, or a new sun, or a premature dawn!</p> + +<p>Now looking up into the deep blue he murmured, "On—and—on—and +on," to himself. And he wondered if the +gulls or the pigeons ever went so far into the blue that +they lost their way, and never came back—but just flew, +and flew, and flew, till weariness overcame them, when they +dropped, and dropped, and dropped, and dropped!</p> + +<p>A window went up in front of him, across the area, and +a voice began to call at him mockingly: "Girl's hair! +Girl's hair! All he's got is girl's hair! All he's got is +girl's hair!"</p> + +<p>He started back as if from a blow. Then reaching a +quick hand to the sash, he closed the window and stepped +down.</p> + +<p>The voice belonged to a boy who had once charged Mrs. +Kukor with going to church on a Saturday. But even +as Johnnie left the sill he felt no anger toward the boy +save on Mrs. Kukor's account. Because he knew that his +hair <i>was</i> like a girl's. If the boy criticized it, that was +no more than Johnnie constantly did himself.</p> + +<p>The second his feet touched the splintery floor he made +toward the table, caught up the teapot, went to lean his +head over the sink, and poured upon his offending locks +the whole remaining contents of the pot—leaves and all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a><a href="images/031.png">[31]</a></span> +For Cis (that mine of wisdom) had told him that tea was +darkening in its effect, not only upon the lining of the +tummy, which was an interesting thought, but upon hair. +And while he did not care what color he was inside, darker +hair he longed to possess. So, his bright tangles a-drip, +he set the teapot in among the unwashed pans and fell to +rubbing the tea into his scalp.</p> + +<p>And now at last he was ready to begin the really important +matters of the day.</p> + +<p>But just which of many should he choose for his start? +He stood still for a moment, considering, and a look came +into his face that was all pure radiance.</p> + +<p>High in the old crumbling building, as cut off from the +world about him as if he were stranded with Grandpa on +some mountain top, he did not fret about being shut in +and away; he was glad of it. He was spared the taunts +of boys who did not like his hair or his clothes; but also +he had the whole flat to himself. Day after day there was +no one to make him do this, or stop his doing that. He +could handle what he liked, dig around in any corner or +box, eat when he wished. Most important of all, he could +think what he pleased!</p> + +<p>He never dwelt for any length of time upon unhappy +pictures—those which had in them hate or revenge. His +brain busied itself usually with places and people and +events which brought him happiness.</p> + +<p>For instance, how he could travel! And all for nothing! +His calloused feet tucked round the legs of the +kitchen chair, his body relaxed, his expression as rapt as +any Buddhist priest's, his big hands locked about his +knees, and his eyes fastened upon a spot on the wall, he +could forsake the Barber flat, could go forth, as if out of +his own body, to visit any number of wonderful lands which +lay so near that he could cross their borders in a moment. +He could sail vast East Rivers in marvelous tugs. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a><a href="images/032.png">[32]</a></span> +could fly superbly over great cities in his own aeroplane.</p> + +<p>And all this travel brought him into contact with just +the sort of men and women he wanted to know, so politely +kind, so interesting. They never tired of him, nor he of +them. He was with them when he wanted to be—instantly. +Or they came to the flat in the friendliest way. And when +its unpleasant duties claimed him—the Monday wash, the +Tuesday ironing, the Saturday scrubbing, or the regular +everyday jobs such as dishes, beds, cooking, bead-stringing, +and violet-making—frequently they helped him, lightening +his work with their charming companionship, stimulating +him with their example and praise.</p> + +<p>Oh, they were just perfect!</p> + +<p>And how quiet, every one of them! So often when the +longshoreman returned of an evening, his bloodshot eyes +roving suspiciously, a crowd of handsomely dressed people +filled the kitchen, and he threaded that crowd, yet never +guessed! When Big Tom spoke, the room usually cleared; +but later on Johnnie could again summon all with no trouble +whatever, whether they were great soldiers or presidents, +kings or millionaires.</p> + +<p>Of the latter he was especially fond; in particular, of a +certain four. And as he paused now to decide upon his +program, he thought of that quartet. Why not give them +a call on the telephone this morning?</p> + +<p>He headed for the morris chair. Under its soiled seat-cushion +was a ragged copy of the New York telephone +directory, which just nicely filled in the sag between the +cushion and the bottom of the chair. He took the directory +out—as carefully as if it were some volume not possible +of duplication.</p> + +<p>It was his only book. Once, while Cis was still attending +school, he had shared her speller and her arithmetic, +and made them forever his own (though he did not realize +it yet) by the simple method of photographing each on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a><a href="images/033.png">[33]</a></span> +his brain—page by page. And it was lucky that he did; +for when Cis's brief schooldays came to an end, Big Tom +took the two textbooks out with him one morning and +sold them.</p> + +<p>The directory was the prized gift of Mrs. Kukor's daughter, +Mrs. Reisenberger, who was married to a pawnbroker, +very rich, and who occupied an apartment (not a flat)—very +fine, very expensive—in a great Lexington Avenue +building that had an elevator, and a uniformed black elevator +man, very stylish. The directory meant more to +Johnnie than ever had Cis's books. He knew its small-typed +pages from end to end. Among the splendid things +it advertised, front, back, and at the bottom of its pages, +were many he admired. And he owned these whenever he +felt like it, whether automobiles or animals, cash registers +or eyeglasses. But such possessions, fine as they were, +took second place in his interest. What thrilled him was +the list of subscribers—the living, breathing thousands +that waited his call at the other end of a wire! And what +people they were!—the world-celebrated, the fabulously +wealthy, the famously beautiful (as Cis herself declared), +and the socially elect!</p> + +<p>Of course there was still others who were prominent, +such as storekeepers, prize fighters, hotel owners and the +like (again it was Cis who furnished the data). But +Johnnie, as has been seen, aimed high always; and he was +particular in the matter of his telephonic associations. +Except when shopping, he made a strict rule to ring up +only the most superior.</p> + +<p>There was a clothesline strung down the whole length of +the kitchen. This Johnnie lowered on a washday to his +own easy reach. At other times it was raised out of the +way of Big Tom's head.</p> + +<p>He let the line down. Then pushing the kitchen chair +to that end of the rope which was farthest from the stove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a><a href="images/034.png">[34]</a></span> +and the sleeping old man, he stood upon it; and having +considered a moment whether he would first call up Mr. +Astor, or Mr. Vanderbilt, or Mr. Carnegie, or Mr. Rockefeller, +decided upon Mr. Astor, and gave a number to a +priceless Central who was promptness itself, who never +rang the wrong bell, or reported a busy wire, or cut him off +in the midst of an engrossing conversation.</p> + +<p>This morning, as usual, he got his number at once. +"Good-mornin', Mister Astor!" he hailed breezily. "This +is Johnnie Smith.—'Oh, good-mornin', Mister Smith! +How are y'?'—I'm fine!—'That's fine!'—How are you, +Mister Astor?—'Oh, I'm fine.'—That's fine!—'I was just +wonderin', Mister Smith, if you would like to go out +ridin' with me.'—Yes, I would, Mister Astor. I think it'd +be fine!—'Y' would? Well, that's fine! And, Mister +Smith, I'll come by for y' in about ten minutes. And if +ye'd like to take a friend along——'"</p> + +<p>There now followed, despite the appointment set for so +early a moment, a long and confidential exchange of views +on a variety of subjects. When this was finished, Johnnie +rang, in turn, Messrs. Vanderbilt, Carnegie and Rockefeller, +sparing these gentlemen all the time in the world. +(When any one of them did indeed call for him, fulfilling +an appointment, what a gorgeous blue plush hat the millionaire +wore! and what a royally fur-collared coat!)</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie put aside the important engagement he +had made with Mr. Astor, and, being careful first to find +the right numbers in the book, got in touch with numerous +large concerns, and ordered jewelry, bicycles, limousines, +steam boilers and paper drinking cups with magnificent +lavishness.</p> + +<p>He had finished ordering his tenth automobile, which +was to be done up in red velvet to match the faithful +Buckle, when there fell upon his quick ear the sound of a +step. In the next instant he let go of the clothesline, sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a><a href="images/035.png">[35]</a></span> +the telephone book slipping from the chair at his feet, and +plunged like a swimmer toward that loose ball of gingham +under the sink.</p> + +<p>And not a moment too soon; for scarcely had he tossed +the tied strings over his tea-leaf-sprinkled hair, when the +door opened, and there, coat on arm, great chest heaving +from his climb, bulgy eyes darting to mark the condition +of the flat, stood—Barber!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a><a href="images/036.png">[36]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>NEW FRIENDS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">IT WAS an awful moment.</p> + +<p>During that moment there was dead silence. Johnnie's +heart stopped beating, his ears sang, his throat +knotted as if paralyzed, and the skin on the back of his +head crinkled; while in all those uneven thickets of his +tawny, tea-stained hair, small, dreadful winds stirred, and +he seemed to lift—horribly—away from the floor.</p> + +<p>Also, a sickish, sinking feeling at the lower end of his +breastbone made him certain that he was about to break +in two; and a sudden wobbling of the knees threatened to +bring him down upon them.</p> + +<p>Barber closed the hall door at his back—gently, so as +not to waken his father. His eyes were still roving the +kitchen appraisingly. It was plain that the full sink and +the littered table were having their effect upon him; for he +had begun that chewing on nothing which betokened a +rising temper.</p> + +<p>Johnnie saw, but he was too stunned and scared to +think of any way out of his difficulty. He might have +caught up the big cooking spoon and rapped on that lead +pipe—five times in rapid succession, as if he were trying +to clear the spoon of the cereal clinging to its bowl. The +five raps was a signal that he had not used for a long +time. It belonged to that dreadful era to which Cis and +he referred as "before the saloons shut up." Preceding +the miracle that had brought the closing of these, Barber,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a><a href="images/037.png">[37]</a></span> +returning home from his day's work, had needed no +excuse for using the strap or his boot upon either of the +children. And once he had struck helpless old Grandpa—a +happening remembered by Cis and Johnnie with awesome +horror, so that they spoke of it as they spoke of the Great +War, or of a murder in the next block.</p> + +<p>It had not been possible in those days for Big Tom to +overlook the temptation of drink. To arrive at his own +door from any direction he had to pass saloons. At both +of the nearest street crossings northward, three of the +four corners had been occupied by drinking places. There +were two at each of the street crossings to the south. In +those now distant times, the signal, and Mrs. Kukor's +prompt answering of it, had often saved Cis and Johnnie +from drunken beatings.</p> + +<p>But now the boy sent no signal. Those big-girl's hands +were shaking in spite of all effort to control. His upturned +face was a ghastly sallow. The gray eyes were set.</p> + +<p>Barber's survey of the room finished, he stepped across +the sagging telephone line, placed the cargo hook and his +lunch pail on the untidy table, and squared round upon +Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Now, say!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" It was a whisper.</p> + +<p>"What y' done in here since I left two hours ago?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie drew a quick breath. He was not given to falsehood, +but he did at times depend upon evasion—at such +times as this. And not unnaturally. For he was in the +absolute power of a bully five times his own size—a bully +who was none the less cruel because he argued that he was +disciplining the boy properly, bringing him up "right." +Discipline or not, Big Tom did not know the meaning of +mercy; and to Johnnie the blow of one of those great +gorillalike fists was like some cataclysm of nature.</p> + +<p>"What y' done?" persisted Barber, but speaking low,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a><a href="images/038.png">[38]</a></span> +so as not to disturb the sleeper in the wheel chair. He +leaned down toward Johnnie, and thrust out that lower lip.</p> + +<p>The boy's own lips began to move, stiffly. But he spoke +as if he were out of breath. "Grandpa f-f-fretted," he +stammered. "He—he wanted to be run up and down—with +his hat on. And—and so I filled the m-m-mush-kettle +t' soak it, and then we—we——"</p> + +<p>His lips went on moving; but his words became inaudible. +A smile was twisting Barber's mouth, and carrying +that crooked, cavernous nose sidewise. Johnnie understood +the smile. The fringe about his thin arms and +legs began to tremble. He raised both hands toward the +longshoreman, the palms outward, in a gesture that was +like a silent prayer.</p> + +<p>With a muttered curse, Barber straightened, turned on +his heel, strode to the door of his bedroom, threw it wide, +noted the unmade beds, and came about, pushing at the +sleeve of his right arm. "Come here," he bade, and the +quiet of his tone was more terrible to the boy than if he +had shouted.</p> + +<p>Johnnie did not obey. He could not. His legs would +not move. His feet were rooted. "Oh, Mister Barber," +he pleaded. "Oh, don't lick me! I won't never do it +again! Oh, don't! Oh, don't! Oh, don't!"</p> + +<p>"Come here." The great arm was bared now. The +voice was lower than before. In one bulging, bloodshot +eye that cast showed and went, then showed again. "Do +what I say—come here."</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh! oh!" Again Johnnie was gasping.</p> + +<p>Barber burst out at him like some fierce storm. "Don't +y' try t' fool <i>me!</i>" he cried. He came on. When he was +within reach, that great, naked, iron arm shot out, seized +the boy at his middle, swept him up from the floor with a +violence that sent the tea leaves flying from the yellow +hair, held him for a second in mid-air, the small body<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a><a href="images/039.png">[39]</a></span> +slouched in the big clothes as in the bottom of a sack, then +shook him till he fairly rattled, like a pea in a pod.</p> + +<p>In a terror that was uncontrollable, Johnnie began to +thrash about and scream. And as Barber half dropped, +half flung him to the floor, old Grandpa roused, and came +round in his chair, tap-tapping with the cane. "Captain!" +he shrilled. "The right's falling back! They're giving +us grape and canister!—Oh, our boys! Our poor boys!" +Frightened by any trouble, his mind always reverted to +old scenes of battle, when his broken sentences were like a +halting, squeaky record in some talking machine that is +out of order and running down.</p> + +<p>As Grandpa rolled near to Johnnie, the latter caught at +a wheel, seeking help, in his extremity, of the helpless, and +thrust his hands through the spokes to lock them. So that +as Barber once more bent and dragged at him, the chair +and the old man followed about the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Let go!" commanded the longshoreman. He tried to +shake Johnnie free of the wheel.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie held on, and his cries redoubled. The +kitchen was in a tumult now, for old Grandpa was also +weeping—not only in fear for Johnnie, but in terror lest +he himself be overturned. And Big Tom was alternately +cursing and ordering.</p> + +<p>The trouble was heard elsewhere. To right and left +there was movement, and the sound of windows being +raised. Voices called out questioningly. Some one +pounded on a wall in protest. And overhead Mrs. Kukor +left her chair and went rocking across her floor.</p> + +<p>Muttering a savage exclamation, Big Tom let go of the +boy and flung himself into the morris chair, not wanting +to go so far with his punishment as to invite the complaints +of his neighbors and the interference of the police. "Git +up out of that!" he commanded, giving Johnnie a rough +nudge with a foot; then to quiet his father, "Now, Pa!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a><a href="images/040.png">[40]</a></span> +That'll do. Sh! sh! It's all right. The battle's over, +and the Yanks've beat."</p> + +<p>But Johnnie was still prone, with the wheel in his embrace, +and the old veteran was sobbing, his wrinkled face +glistening with tears, when Mrs. Kukor opened the door +and came doll-walking in.</p> + +<p>She was a short little lady, with a compact, inflexible +figure that was, so to speak, square, with rounded-off corners—square, +and solid, and heavy. She had eyes that +were as black and round and bright as a sparrow's, a full, +red mouth, and graying hair, abundant and crinkly, which +stood out around her countenance as if charged with electricity. +It escaped the hairpins. Even a knitted brown +cap of some weight did not adequately confine it. Every +hair seemed vividly alive.</p> + +<p>Her olive face was a trifle pale now. Her birdlike eyes +darted from one to another of the trio, quickly taking in +the situation. Too concerned to make any apology for +her unannounced entrance, she teetered hastily to Big +Tom's side.</p> + +<p>"Oy! oy!" she breathed anxiously. "Vot iss?"</p> + +<p>"Tommie home," faltered old Grandpa. "Tommie home. +And the color sergeant's dead!" He reached his arms out +to her like a frightened child who welcomes company.</p> + +<p>Like her eyes, Mrs. Kukor's lips never rested, going +even when she listened, for she had the habit of silently repeating +whatever was said. Thus, with lips and eyes busy, +head alternately wagging and nodding eloquently, and both +hands waving, she was constantly in motion. Now, "The +color sergeant's dead!" her mouth framed, and she gave +a swift glance around almost as if she expected to see a +fallen flag bearer.</p> + +<p>"It's this lazy little rascal again," declared Barber, +working his jaws in baffled wrath.</p> + +<p>"So-o-o-o!" She stooped and laid a gentle hand on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a><a href="images/041.png">[41]</a></span> +Johnnie's shoulder. "Come," she said. "Better Chonnie, +he goes in a liddle by Cis's room. No?" And as the boy, +still trembling, got to his knees beside the chair, she helped +him to rise, and half led, half carried him past the stove.</p> + +<p>Barber began his defense. "I go out o' here of a +mornin'," he complained, "to do a hard day's work, so's +I can pay rent and the grocer. I leave that kid t' do a +few little things 'round the place. And the minute my +back's turned, what does he do? Nothin'! I come back, +and look!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor, having seen Johnnie out of the room, +turned about. Then, smoothing her checked apron with +her plump hands, she glanced at Barber with a deprecating +smile. "I haf look," she answered. "Und I know. +But—he wass yust a poy, und you know poys."</p> + +<p>"I know boys have t' work," came back Barber, righteously. +"If they don't, they grow up into no-account +men. When his Aunt Sophie died, I promised her I'd +raise him right. The work here don't amount to nothin',—anyhow +not if you compare it with what I done when <i>I</i> +was a boy. Why, on my father's farm, up-state, I was +out of my bed before sunup, winter and summer, doin' +chores, milkin', waterin' the stock, hoein', and so on. +What's a few dishes to <i>that?</i> What's a bed or two? and +a little sweepin'? And look! He ain't even washed the +old man yet! And I like to see my father clean and neat. +That's what makes me so red-hot, Mrs. Kukor—the way +he neglects my father."</p> + +<p>"Chonnie wass shut up so much," argued Mrs. Kukor.</p> + +<p>That cast whitened Big Tom's eye anxiously. He did +not want Johnnie to hear any talk about going out. He +hastened to reply, and his tone was more righteous than +ever. "No kid out of this flat is goin' to run the streets," +he declared, "and learn all kinds of bad, and bring it home +to that nice, little stepdaughter o' mine! No, Mrs. Kukor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a><a href="images/042.png">[42]</a></span> +her mother'd haunt me if I didn't bring her up nice, and +you can bet I'll do that. That kid, long's he stays under +my roof, is goin' t' be fit t' stay. And he wouldn't be if +he gadded the streets with the gangs in this part of town." +While this excuse for keeping Johnnie indoors was anything +but the correct one, Big Tom was able to make his +voice fervent.</p> + +<p>"But Chonnie wass tired mit always seeink the kitchen," +persisted the little Jewish lady. "He did-ent go out now +for a lo-ong times. I got surprises he ain't crazy!"</p> + +<p>"That's just what he <i>is!</i>" cried Big Tom, triumphantly. +"He's crazy! Of all the foolishness in the world, he can +think it up! And the things he does!—but nothin' that'll +ever git him anywheres, or do him any good! And lazy? +Anything t' kill time—t' git out of honest work! Now +what d'y' suppose he was doin' with this clothes line down? +and talkin' out loud to himself?"</p> + +<p>"Niaggery! Niaggery!" piped old Grandpa, smiling +through his tears, and swaying against the rope that +crossed his chest. "Niaggery! Niaggery! Chug! chug! +chug!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor spread out both hands in a comprehensive +gesture. "See?" she asked. "Oh, I haf listen. The chair +goes roundt and roundt, und much water wass runnink in +the sink. It wass for Grandpa, und—it takes time."</p> + +<p>Barber's dark face relaxed a little. It could not truthfully +be said of him that he was a bad son; and any excuse +that offered his father as its reason invariably softened +him. He pulled himself to his feet and picked up the +lunch pail and the cargo hook. "Well—all right," he +conceded. "But I said t' myself, 'I'll bet that kid ain't +workin'.' So havin' a' hour, I come home t' see. And +how'd he git on yesterday, makin' vi'lets for y'?"</p> + +<p>"Ach!"—this, an exclamation of impatience, was aimed +at herself. "I wass forgettink!" Under her apron hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a><a href="images/043.png">[43]</a></span> +a long, slender, black bag. Out of it she took a twenty-five-cent +piece and offered the coin to Barber. "For yesttady," +she added.</p> + +<p>"Thank y'." He took the quarter. "Glad the kid done +his work."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure he do!" protested Mrs. Kukor. "Pos-i-tiv-vle!" +(Mrs. Kukor could also be guilty of self-deception.)</p> + +<p>Now, Barber raised his voice a little: "Johnnie, let's see +how quick you can straighten this place up."</p> + +<p>At that, Mrs. Kukor waved both hands in eloquent signals, +urging Big Tom to go; tapped her chest, winked, +and made little clicking noises with her tongue—all to +denote the fact that she would see everything straightened +up to perfection, but that for old Grandpa's sake further +conversation with Johnnie might be a mistake, since weeping +all around would surely break out again. So Barber, +muttering something about leaving her a clear coast, +scuffed his way out.</p> + +<p>As the hall door closed, Johnnie buried his small nose in +Cis's pillow. He was wounded in pride rather than in +body. He hated to be found on the floor at the toe of Big +Tom's boot. He had listened to the conversation while +lying face downward on Cis's bed but with his head raised +like a turtle's. However, it seemed best, somehow, not to +be found in that position by Mrs. Kukor. He must not +take his ill-treatment lightly, nor recover from his hurts +too quick. He decided to be prone and prostrated. When +the little Jewish lady came swaying in to him, therefore, +he was stretched flat, his yellow head motionless.</p> + +<p>The sight smote Mrs. Kukor. In all the five years he +had lived at the Barber flat, she had continually watched +over him, plying him with medicine, pulling his baby teeth, +mending his ragged clothes, teaching him to cook and do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a><a href="images/044.png">[44]</a></span> +housework, feeding him kosher dainties, and—for reasons +better hinted at than made plain—keeping a sharp lookout +in the matter of his bright hair.</p> + +<p>In the beginning, when trouble had assailed him, her +lap had received him like the mother's lap he could not +remember; her arms had cradled him tenderly, her kisses +had comforted, and he had often wept out his rage and +mortification on her bosom.</p> + +<p>However, long since he had felt himself too big to be +held or kissed. And as for his hair, she understood what +a delicate subject it had come to be with him. She would +have liked to stroke it now; but she contented herself with +patting gently one thin arm. Behind her was old +Grandpa, peering into the dim closet.</p> + +<p>"Oy! oy! oy!" mourned Mrs. Kukor, wagging her round +head. "Ev'rytink goes bat if some peoples lives by oder +peoples w'ich did-ent belonk mit. Und how to do? I can't +to say, except yust live alonk, und see if sometink nice +happens maype."</p> + +<p>Johnnie moved, with a long, dry sob, and very tenderly +she leaned down to turn his face toward her. "Ach, poor +Chonnie!" she cried. "Come! We will wash him, und +makes him all fresh und clean. Und next—how do you +t'ink? Mrs. Kukor hass for you a big surprises!"</p> + +<p>He sat up then, wearily, but forbore to seem curious, +and she coaxed him into the kitchen, to bathe the dust +and tears from his countenance, and stitch up some rents +in the big shirt, where Big Tom had torn it. All the while +she talked to him comfortingly. "Ach, mine heart it +bleets over you!" she declared. "But nefer mind. Because, +<i>oh</i>, such swell surprises!"</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie felt he could properly show interest in +things outside the morning's trouble. "What, Mrs. +Kukor?" he wanted to know. "Is it—is it noodle soup?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a><a href="images/045.png">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>And now both burst out laughing, for it was always a +great joke between them, his liking for her noodle soup. +Old Grandpa laughed loudest of all, circling them, and +pounding the floor with his cane. "What say?" he demanded. +"What say?" Altogether the restoration to the +flat of peace and happiness was made so evident that, to +right, left, and below, windows now began to go down +with a bang, as, the Barber row over, the neighbors went +back to their own affairs.</p> + +<p>"It wass not noodle soup," declared Mrs. Kukor. "It +wass sometink a t'ousand times so goot. But not for eatink. +No. <i>Much</i> better as. Und! Sooner your work wass +finished, make a signals to me alonk of the sink, und see +how it happens!"</p> + +<p>More she would not say, but rocked out and up.</p> + +<p>Johnnie went at his dishes hard. The table cleared, the +sink empty, and the cupboard full, he tied the clothesline +out of the way, then with broom and dustpan invaded Big +Tom's bedroom, which Grandpa shared with his hulking +son. Here were two narrow, iron bedsteads. Between +them was barely room for the wheel chair when it rolled +the little old man in to his night's rest. To right and left +of the door, high up, several nails supported a few dusty +garments. That was all.</p> + +<p>If Johnnie stooped in the doorway of this room, he +could see every square foot of its floor, and every article +in it. Yet from the very first he had feared the place, into +which no light and air came direct. Whenever he swept it +and made the beds, his heart beat fast, and he felt nervous +concerning his ankles, as if Something were on the +point of seizing them! For this reason he always put off +his bedroom work as long as he could; then finished it up +quickly, keeping the door wide while he worked. At other +times, he kept it tight shut. Often when old Grandpa was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a><a href="images/046.png">[46]</a></span> +asleep by the stove, Johnnie would tiptoe to that door, +lean against the jamb of it, and listen. And he told Cis +that he could plainly hear <i>creakings!</i></p> + +<p>But this morning he felt none of his usual nervousness, +so taken up was his mind with Mrs. Kukor's mystery. +Swiftly but carefully he made the two beds. As a rule, +he contented himself with straightening each out, but so +artfully that Barber would think the sheets had been +turned. Sometimes Barber threw a bit of paper or a sock +into one bed or the other, in order to trap Johnnie, who +found it wise always to search for evidence.</p> + +<p>Now he pulled each bed apart, turned the old mattresses +with the loudest thumps, snapped the sheets professionally +(Cis had taught him that!), whacked the pillows with +might and main, and tucked in the worn blankets like a +trained nurse. Then with puffs and grunts he swept under +as well as around the beds, searching out the deep cracks +with the cornstraw, and raising a prodigious cloud.</p> + +<p>When he came out of the bedroom it was to empty his +garnerings into the stove and repeat the dust-gathering +process in Cis's room, that cubby-hole, four-by-seven, +which had no window, and doubtless had been intended for +a storage place, or a bathroom free from draughts. It +held no furniture at all—only a long, low shelf and a dry-goods +box. Cis slept on a narrow mattress which upholstered +the shelf, and used the box both as a dressing-table +and a wardrobe. Johnnie was not expected to make up +the shelf; and was strictly forbidden to touch the box. +He scratched the floor successfully, not having attended +to it for some days.</p> + +<p>By the time he was ready to do the kitchen, his face +was streaked again, and glistening with perspiration. +And he could not help but wish, as he planted the wheel +chair at the open window, that Barber, if he intended to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a><a href="images/047.png">[47]</a></span> +make another unexpected return, would come at such a +time as this, when things that he liked were happening.</p> + +<p>The kitchen floor lay in great splintering hummocks +and hollows. Its wide cracks were solid with the accumulations +of time, while lint and frayings, and bits of cloth +and string, were fairly woven into its rough surface +everywhere, and tenaciously held. It was lastingly greasy +in the neighborhood of the table, as steadily wet in the +region of the sink, and sooty in an ever-widening circle +about the stove.</p> + +<p>Sprinkling it thoroughly, he swept even the two +squares on which were set the fuel boxes; gave the stove +what amounted to a feverish rubbing, then turned his attention +to old Grandpa.</p> + +<p>The morning routine of caring for the aged veteran included +the bathing of the wizened face and hands and the +brushing of the thin, straggling hair. Johnnie hastened +to collect the wash basin, the bar of soap (it was of the +laundry variety), and a square of once-white cloth, which +it must be confessed was used variously about the flat, +serving at one time to polish the lamp chimney, and again +for any particular dusting.</p> + +<p>Grandpa had all of a small boy's dislike for water. +The moment he spied Johnnie's preparations, he began to +protest. "No! no!" he objected. "It's cold! It's cold!" +He whirled his chair in an attempt to escape.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie had a fine device for just this problem. +"Oh, Grandpa!" he reminded coaxingly as he filled the +wash basin with warm water out of the teakettle, "don't +you remember that you jus' was in a big battle? And +there's <i>mud</i> on your face!"</p> + +<p>Grandpa capitulated at once, and allowed himself to +be washed and combed. The old man clean, Johnnie gave +him a glass of warm milk, wheeled him as far away from +the window as possible, then trundled him gently back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a><a href="images/048.png">[48]</a></span> +and forth, as if he were a baby in a carriage. And all the +while the boy sang softly, improvising a lullaby:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, Grandpa, now go to s'eepy-s'eep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">'Cause you're awful tired.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And Johnnie wants t' see what Mrs. Kukor</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Is goin' to s'prise him about——"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Grandpa dozing, Johnnie did not pause to eat the cold +potato and bread spread with the grease of bacon trimmings +which made his usual noon meal. Curiosity dulled +his hunger. Gently he tapped upon that convenient pipe—once, +then twice, then once again.</p> + +<p>As he leaned at the window to wait, his small nose curled +in a grin. There was no movement up above. He half +suspected a joke. But he had got off easy with Big Tom. +Also, the housework was done, and in fine style. Except +for a little violet-making—not too much—more than a +whole half-day still lay ahead of him. And what an automobile +trip he could take with Mr. Astor! Idly he followed +the changing contours of a cloud in an otherwise +empty sky.</p> + +<p>Then of a sudden something came dropping between +him and the cloud. He started back. It was a shallow +basket, suspended from each of its four corners by a string. +As it lowered inch by inch, he stood up in the rope coils; +and what he saw in it fairly took his breath. For there +on the bottom of the basket was—a book!</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>He brought the basket to a safe landing. Then, forgetting +that some one was at the other end of the four +strings, he slipped to the floor, turned on the water in the +sink, and, like a Moslem holy man who is about to touch +his Koran, washed both grimy hands.</p> + +<p>To look at, it was not much of a book. In the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a><a href="images/049.png">[49]</a></span> +place, it had not the length, width or thickness of the telephone +directory, while its corners were fully as dog-eared. +Yet he took it from the basket with something like reverence. +It had one cloth cover—the back. This was wine-red, +and shiny. The front one had been torn out of its +binding. However, this seemed to him no flaw. Also, there +were several pictures—in colors! And as he looked the +volume over still more closely, he made a wonderful discovery: +on the front page was written a name—<i>J. J. +Hunter</i>.</p> + +<p>It was a man's book!</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness!" he whispered. "Oh, Mrs. Kukor!"</p> + +<p>The basket danced inquiringly, tipped, and began to +heave upward. A voice began to whisper to him, coming +down along those four strings: "I finds him by a secont-hant +store-mans. I gets him almost for notink. He wass +olt, und very fine. Haf you open him? Reat, Chonnie!"</p> + +<p>He opened the book at the first page; and knew how +different this one was from the directory, with its solid +lines of names; from the speller, printed in columns of +words, or the arithmetic, which was all hit-or-miss. Here +was a page divided into paragraphs, as in the newspapers +which Cis sometimes smuggled in. Before and after many +of the paragraphs were those strange little marks, larger +at one end than at the other, which showed that some one +was speaking.</p> + +<p>"It's a story!" he whispered back.</p> + +<p>Indeed, as he read that first page, it so informed him. +Across its top, in capital letters, ran those words: <i>THE +STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL +LAMP</i>. All his life he had had to make up his own stories, +get acquainted with the people in them, dress them, and +even give them speech. But here was a story belonging +to some one else—a story as important as that one about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a><a href="images/050.png">[50]</a></span> +his friends David and Goliath, this proven by the fact +that it had been written down, letter for letter.</p> + +<p>He began it: <i>In the capital of one of the large and rich +provinces of the Kingdom of China, the name of which I +do not recollect, there lived a tailor, named Mustapha, who +was so poor, that he could hardly, by his daily labor, maintain +himself and his family, which consisted of a wife and +son.</i></p> + +<p><i>His son, who was called Aladdin</i>——</p> + +<p>Something came into Johnnie's throat when he got that +far. He gulped. And he could not read any further just +then because something had come into his eyes. He laid +the book against his breast, and crossed both arms upon it. +He did not know how to pray. Mrs. Kukor had never +dared teach him, fearing the wrath of Big Tom. As for +Cis, she knew how from her mother; but she had all of a +child's natural shyness regarding sacred subjects.</p> + +<p>To Johnnie, Sunday was not a day set apart for sacred +matters. It was a day to be dreaded. And not only because +on that day Barber was likely to be about at any +hour, but because for Johnnie it meant uninterrupted +work. The noon meal had to be put on the table instead +of into lunch pails. And when dinner was cleared away +there was always bead-stringing or violet-making to do—Cis +helping when she returned from church. On account +of his clothes, Johnnie never went to church himself. What +he knew about churches, therefore, was only what Cis told +him; and of her information the most striking bit was +this: red carpets led into them under gay awnings whenever +people were getting married.</p> + +<p>But as he stood with the book clasped to his breast, what +he felt was thanksgiving—to his very toes. "Aladdin,"—he +spoke aloud to that other boy, who was so poor; "you're +goin' t' be a dandy friend of mine! Yes, and your Pa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a><a href="images/051.png">[51]</a></span> +and Ma, too! And I'll introduce you to Buckle, and Mr. +Rockefeller, and a lot of nice folks!"</p> + +<p>Presently he brought the book up to where, by lowering +his head, he could lay a thin cheek against that front +page. Then, "Oh, Mister J. J. Hunter," he added huskily, +"I hope you ain't never goin' to want this back!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a><a href="images/052.png">[52]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE DEAREST WISH</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE read—and the shining Orient burst upon him!</p> + +<p>It was as if the most delicate of gossamer curtains +had been brushed aside so that he could look +at a new world. What he saw there rooted him to his +chair, holding him spellbound. Yet not so much because it +contrasted sharply with his own little world, this bare flat +of Barber's in the lower East Side, as that it seemed to +fit in perfectly with his own experiences.</p> + +<p>Aladdin was a boy like himself, who was scolded, and +cuffed on the ears. The African magician was just another +as wicked and cruel as the longshoreman. As for +that Slave of the Ring, Johnnie considered him no more +wonderful than Buckle. In fact, there was nothing impossible, +or even improbable, about the story. It held him +by its sheer reality. Its drama enthralled him, too. And +he gloried in all its beauty of golden dishes, gorgeous dress, +fountain-fed gardens, jewel-fruited trees and prancing +steeds.</p> + +<p>He read carefully, one forefinger traveling to and fro +across the wide pages, while his lips moved silently, and +he dragged at his hair. Sometimes he came to words he +did not understand—<i>chastisement</i>, <i>incorrigible</i>, <i>physiognomist</i>, +<i>handicraft</i>, <i>equipped</i>, <i>mosques</i>, <i>liberality</i>. He +went over them and pressed on, just as he might have +climbed one wall after the other if these barred his way. +He could come back to the hard words later—and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a><a href="images/053.png">[53]</a></span> +would. But first he must know how things fared with this +other boy.</p> + +<p>When Grandpa wakened, Johnnie fairly wrenched his +look from beautiful Cathay to face the demands which the +Borough of Manhattan made upon him. Tucking his +book under the wide neckband of the big shirt, he let it +slip down to rest at his belt. The old soldier was hungry. +He was supplied with milk toast so speedily that it was +the next thing to magic. Then Johnnie discovered a hollow +feeling which centered in his own anatomy, whereupon +he ate several, cold boiled potatoes well spiced with mustard.</p> + +<p>Their late lunch over, Grandpa was strong in his appeals +for a journey as far south as Island Number 10. +But now Johnnie had no heart for any trip into distant +country. The realm of China was about him. He wheeled +the chair up and down, but he sang to soothe Grandpa +to sleep. And this time his song was all of his great new +happiness:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, I got a book! I got a book! I got a book!<br /> +Oh, Mrs. Kukor, she give it t' me!<br /> +And it's awful grand!<br /> +Once it was a man's, and his name was Hunter—<br /> +I wonder if he lost it, or maybe somebody sold it on him.<br /> +I'm goin' t' read it till I know ev'ry word!<br /> +I'm goin' t' read it ev'ry day—ev'ry day!<br /> +Go t' sleep, 'cause I want t' read some more!<br /> +Go t' sleep! Go t' sleep! Go t' sleep!"<br /> +</div> + +<p>On and on he caroled, like a bird on a branch. At last +Grandpa, after some mild protesting, was lulled by the +rhapsody, and dozed once more; when Johnnie adroitly +tapered off his song, brought the chair to a cautious stop, +drew the book from its warm hiding place, sank into the +morris chair, and again there swept into the kitchen, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a><a href="images/054.png">[54]</a></span> +on the crest of a stream, the glorious, the enchanting +East.</p> + +<p>He saw the dull, old lamp rubbed for the first time, and +the genie come. And he rejoiced with Aladdin as the poor +Chinese boy attained the knowledge of the lamp's peculiar +virtue. Only once did he emerge from the thralldom of +the tale by his own will. That was when he read of the +wonderful Buddir al Buddoor: "<i>The princess was the most +beautiful brunette in the world; her eyes were large, lively, +and sparkling; her looks sweet and modest; her nose was +of a just proportion and without a fault, her mouth small, +her lips of a vermilion red and charmingly agreeable symmetry</i>——"</p> + +<p>Here he paused, lifting farseeing, shining eyes. Many +a time he had spied a slim little girl who came out upon +one of the fire escapes opposite. The little girl's hair was +black and wavy, and the wind tossed it upon her shoulders +as she looked around. She seldom glanced over at Johnnie, +and to gain her attention he had to Hoo-hoo to her. +Once he had shown her that pillow so cherished by Cis, +which was covered with bright cretonne. He had seen the +little girl's white teeth flash then, and knew that she was +smiling.</p> + +<p>She was like the Princess Buddir al Buddoor, dark, and +red-lipped. And how kind she was! For she had never +seemed to notice anything wrong with either his hair or his +clothes. He could understand how Aladdin felt about the +sultan's daughter, who was so lovely—all but her name!</p> + +<p>He was deep in the story again when a plump hand interrupted +by covering his page. So shut were his ears +against every sound, inside and out, that he had not heard +Mrs. Kukor enter. Now she held up something before +his face. It was the alarm clock.</p> + +<p>Next after Big Tom and his own hair he hated the clock +most. It was forever rousing him of a morning when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a><a href="images/055.png">[55]</a></span> +longed to sleep. Also, the clock acted as a sort of vicar +to Barber. Its round, flat, bald face stared hard at Johnnie +as its rasping staccato warned him boldly. More than +once he had gone up to the noisy timepiece, taken it from +its place on the cupboard shelf, and given it a good shaking.</p> + +<p>"So!" exclaimed Mrs. Kukor. She set the clock down +and reached for the book. "I keeps him by me. To-morrow, +sooner you wass finish mit your work, he comes +down again by the basket."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I can hide it!" urged Johnnie, illustrating his +argument at the same time. "And, oh, gee, Mrs. Kukor! +I'm the luckiest kid in N'York!"</p> + +<p>"Supper," pronounced Mrs. Kukor, seeing that the +book was indeed well hidden and would bring no fresh +troubles upon that yellow head that day.</p> + +<p>And it did not. For at suppertime, when Barber loomed +in the doorway once more, the teakettle was on the stove, +and waddling from side to side very much in the manner +of Mrs. Kukor, the kitchen was filled with the fruity aroma +of stewing prunes, and Johnnie, with several saucers of +bright-hued beads before him, was busy at his stringing—a +task which, being mechanical, could be performed without +conscious effort. And he was so engrossed over his +saucers that Barber had to speak to him twice before the +boy started up from his chair, letting the beads impaled +on his long needle slip off and patter upon the floor like +so much gay-colored sleet.</p> + +<p>Barber gave a satisfied look around. "All right—set +your table," he commanded.</p> + +<p>Johnnie obeyed. But this was a task which was not +mechanical. And with his thoughts still on the high +hopes and plans of that other boy, he put two knives at +one plate, two forks at another. But it was all done with +such promptness, with such a quick, light step and eager,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a><a href="images/056.png">[56]</a></span> +smiling eye, that Barber, remarking the swiftness and the +spirit Johnnie showed, for once omitted to harangue him +for his mistakes.</p> + +<p>Cis was more discerning than her stepfather. When +she came slipping in, the boy's rapt expression told her +that his thoughts were on something outside the flat. She +was not curious, being used to seeing him look so detached. +However, supper done with, and Barber out of the kitchen, +putting his father to bed, she gleaned that something unusual +had happened. For as they were washing and setting +away the dishes, he leaned close to ask her the strangest +question.</p> + +<p>"Cis," he whispered, "what's p-h-y-s-i-o-g-n-o-m-i-s-t?"</p> + +<p>She turned her head to stare; and knit her young brows, +wondering and puzzled, not at the question itself, but at +what lay behind it. The bedroom door was open. She +dared not venture a counter question. "Start it again," +she whispered back.</p> + +<p>He named the letters through a second time. "It's a +long word," he conceded. "It takes all of my fingers, and +then one thumb and two fingers over. What does it spell?"</p> + +<p>Cis's lips were pressed tight. They twitched a bit, to +keep back with some effort what she had on her mind. +When they parted at last, she nodded wisely. "You never +got that word out of my speller," she declared; "nor off +of any paper bag from the grocer's." Which was to say +that she did not know what all those letters spelled, but +that she was fully aware he had a good deal to tell her.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had already made up his mind that he would +not share his precious secret with her. He feared to. +Barber had never allowed Cis to bring home books, regarding +all printed matter as a waste of time. And Cis had +a way of obeying Barber strictly; also she often pleaded +conscience and duty in matters of this kind. And to Johnnie +any consideration for Barber's wishes or opinions, except<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a><a href="images/057.png">[57]</a></span> +the little that was forced by fear of the strap, was +silly, girlish, and terribly trying.</p> + +<p>He admired Mrs. Kukor's stand. Backed by her, he +meant to keep the book and read it every minute he could. +So with Big Tom once more in the kitchen, having an after-supper +pipe in the morris chair, Johnnie ignored Cis's +silent invitation to join her in the window, and brought +his bedding from her room, spreading it out ostentatiously +beside the stove. Then having filled the teakettle and +stirred the breakfast cereal into the big, black pot, he +flung himself down upon his mattress with a weary grunt.</p> + +<p>Barber smiled. The boy was tired. For once some real +work had been done around the place. "You better git t' +bed early, too," he remarked to Cis. As advice from him +always amounted to a command, she disappeared at once. +Presently Big Tom got up, stretched his gorilla arms, +yawned with a descending scale of Oh's, and went lumbering +to bed.</p> + +<p>A wait—which to Johnnie seemed interminable, while +dusk thickened to darkness; then snores. The snoring +continued all the while he was counting up to four hundred. +Also it achieved a regularity and loudness that +guaranteed it to be genuine. Still Johnnie did not open +his eyes. There were little movements in Cis's room, and +he felt sure she was not asleep. Soon he had proof of it. +For peering up carefully from under lowered lids, he saw +her door slowly open; next, she came to stand in it, dimly +outlined in her faded cotton kimono.</p> + +<p>She had something white in one hand. This she waved +up and down in a noiseless signal. He did not stir. She +stole forward, bent down, and touched him. He went on +breathing deep and steadily. She tiptoed back to her +bed.</p> + +<p>As patiently as possible he waited till the sound of her +regular breathing could be heard between Barber's rasping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a><a href="images/058.png">[58]</a></span> +snores. Then he sat up. So long as he had been able +to read, he had thought of nothing but reading. But with +the book put away there had come to him a wonderful +plan—a plan that made his bony little spine gooseflesh: +<i>He would rub Barber's old kitchen lamp!</i></p> + +<p>Seldom used, it stood on a cupboard shelf beside the +clock. Fairly holding his breath, he got to his feet and +crept across the floor. Inch by inch, cautiously, his hand +felt its way to the right shelf, found the lamp, grasped +the glass standard. But the table was the only proper +place for the experiment. He carried the lamp there and +set it down, his heart beating hard under the pleats of his +shirt.</p> + +<p>Then he considered what his course of action should +be. If Big Tom's old lamp chanced to possess even a +scrap of that power peculiar to the lamp of Aladdin: if, +when he rubbed the none too clean glass base, some genie +were to appear, asking for orders—what should he command?</p> + +<p>It came to him then that what he wanted most in all +the world was not bags of money, not dishes of massy gold, +or rich robes, or slaves, but only freedom. He wanted to +get away from the flat; to leave behind him forever the +hated longshoreman.</p> + +<p>"If the great big feller comes when I rub," he told himself, +"I'll say t' him, 'Take Grandpa and Cis and me as far +away as—as Central Park'" (this a region of delight +into which he had peeped when he was three or four years +old, under escort of his Aunt Sophie). "'And leave us +in a flat as good as this one.'"</p> + +<p>With Big Tom out of his life, oh, how he would work!—violet-making, +bead-stringing, and, yes, boarders! He +could fetch Grandpa's bed out into the new kitchen, and +put three roomers into the little bedroom, just as several +tenants in this building did. And what he could earn,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a><a href="images/059.png">[59]</a></span> +added to Cis's wages at some factory, and Grandpa's pension +(this a princely income which was now regularly +drawn and spent by Big Tom) would take care of the +three splendidly.</p> + +<p>Having settled upon the supreme wish, and fairly holding +his breath, he reached out in the darkness and rubbed +the lamp.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened.</p> + +<p>He waited a little. In this lamp business perhaps time +figured prominently; though his own friends—Buckle, the +four millionaires, David, Goliath, the Prince, and any +number of others always appeared in the kitchen promptly.</p> + +<p>But no genie of the lamp arrived. To make sure that +his test was fair, he rubbed the lamp a second time, all +the way around. Still no huge, hideous, helpful figure +loomed out of the dark.</p> + +<p>He grinned sheepishly, tugged at his hair a few times, +then went back to his mattress and sat down. He was not +disappointed, for though he had been hopeful, he had not +been over-sure. And, anyhow, he had his book. He lifted +it out, placed it upon his knees, and rested his forehead +upon it. And the next moment, as if whisked to him by a +genie all his own, Cathay was about him; and he was with +the boy, Aladdin, plunging down a flight of steps on his +way to a garden that yielded fruit which was all diamonds +and rubies and pearls.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a><a href="images/060.png">[60]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A SERIOUS STEP</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE awoke with such a feeling of happiness—a fluttery +feeling, which was in his throat, and also +just at the lower end of his breastbone, where he +seemed to have so many kinds of sensations. For a moment +he did not remember what made him so happy. But +as he moved, something hard pressed against his ribs, +whereupon the fluttery feeling suddenly spread over the +whole of him, so that the calves of those lead-pipe legs got +creepy, and his shoulder-blades tingled. Then he knew +it was all because of the book.</p> + +<p>The process of getting up of a morning was always a +simple one. As he slept in his big clothes, all he had to do +was scramble to his feet, roll up his bedding, splash a +little water upon the central portion of his countenance, +dry it away with the apron, and put the apron on.</p> + +<p>As a rule he never so much as stirred till Barber or the +alarm clock sounded an order. But on this happy morning +he did not wait for orders, but rose promptly, though +it still wanted more than half an hour to getting-up time. +He did yet another unusual thing; noiselessly, so as not +to wake any one, he set his bedding roll on end just outside +the door of Cis's room, then returned to the table, +drew out the drawer, chose a saucer of rose-colored beads, +and fell to threading them swiftly. He had two ideas in +mind: first, after yesterday's unpleasant experience, he +was anxious to make a good impression upon Big Tom;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a><a href="images/061.png">[61]</a></span> +second, and principally, he was stringing now, when he +dared not read, in order that, later on, he might be free +to enjoy his book.</p> + +<p>He held the long needle in his right hand. He poked +the beads to the needle's tip with the forefinger of his +left. He used his tongue, too, after a fashion, for if a +bead was obstinate his tongue tip sometimes helped—by +curling itself noseward over his upper lip. Before now +he had always thought of rose-colored beads as future +rose-colored roses in the beautiful purses that Mrs. Kukor +made. But now the beads reminded him of nothing less +than that strange garden laying under the horizontal +stone in China.</p> + +<p>He took out all of his saucers—the pink, the green, +the brown, the gold, the blue, the burgundy, the white, the +black, the yellow—and found that they gave him a new +pleasure. They were the fruit of Aladdin's garden, and +he planned to offer them in a yellow bowl to that certain +dark-haired little girl. "'What wouldst thou have?'" he +quoted. "'I am ready to obey thee as thy slave,'"—a +statement that he considered highly appropriate. His +whispering was accompanied by gesticulations that bore +no relation to bead-stringing, and by tossings of his yellow +head.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> what y' mumblin' about?" demanded Big Tom. +He was watching from the bedroom door, and his look +denied that Johnnie, though at work, was making anything +like a good impression; quite the contrary—for Barber's +bloodshot eyes were full of suspicion. Should a boy +who always had to be watched and driven suddenly show a +desire to keep busy? "Breakfast on?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Johnnie sprang up. "I didn't want to make no noise," +he explained. The next moment lids were rattling and +coal was tumbling upon some blazing kindling as he started +the morning fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a><a href="images/062.png">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A-a-a-ah! What y' got this <i>lamp</i> down for?"—it was +the next question, and there was triumph in Big Tom's +voice. "Been wastin' oil, have y'? Come! When did y' +light it? Answer up!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't light it," replied Johnnie, calmly glancing +round, his chin on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"No? Then what <i>did</i> y' do? Hey? What?"</p> + +<p>"Just took it down 'n' rubbed it."</p> + +<p>"M-m-m!—Well, y' made a poor job of your rubbin'. +I'll say that!"</p> + +<p>"I'll rub it again," said Johnnie. He caught up the +dish towel with which he had dried his own face and set +to work on the lamp. There was a faint smile on his lips +as he worked. There was a smile in his eyes, too, but he +kept his lids discreetly lowered.</p> + +<p>His whole manner irritated Barber, who sauntered to +the table, took a careful survey of it, drew out the drawer, +looked it over, then dropped into the morris chair to pull +on his socks. Now he sensed, as had Cis the day before, +that the air of the flat was charged with something—something +that was strange to it. He did not guess it was +happiness. But as Johnnie moved quickly between sink +and stove, between cupboard and table, Big Tom watched +him, and thrust out that lower lip.</p> + +<p>While the business of breakfast was on, instead of standing +up to the table for his bowl of oats, Johnnie made sandwiches +for the two lunches. Hot tea, well sugared, went +into Barber's pail. Another tin compartment Johnnie +packed with the cooked prunes. A third held slabs of +corned-beef between bread. Sour pickles were added to +these when he filled Cis's lunchbox, which closely resembled +a camera. And now the wide-open, fixed look of his eyes, +the uplift at the corners of his mouth, his swelled nostrils +and his buoyant step told Cis that he was engaged in some +adventure, high and stirring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a><a href="images/063.png">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Barber, still watching the boy sharply, made up +his mind that the punishment of the day before had done +a lot of good. In fact, it seemed to have brought about a +complete transformation. For during the two or three +minutes that Big Tom allowed himself after eating for +the filling of his pipe, Johnnie swept the table clear, +washed, dried and put away the dishes, and was so far +along with his morning's work that he was wiping off the +stove.</p> + +<p>Leaving, Barber omitted his usual warnings and directions; +and did not even wait outside the door for a final +look back, but went promptly down, as the creaking stairs +testified, and out, as told by the sucking move and gentle +rattle of the hall door.</p> + +<p>It was Cis who lingered. When the flat was clear of +her stepfather, she fairly burst from her tiny room, and +halted face to face with Johnnie, from whose strong right +hand the stove rag was even then falling. Her eyes both +questioned and challenged him. And the sudden breaking +of his countenance into a radiant grin, at one and at +the same time, answered her—and confessed.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He stretched up to her pink ear to answer, for Grandpa +was at the table, still busy over his bowl. "A book," he +whispered back, his air that of one who has seen the dream +of a lifetime realized.</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i> What kind of a book? And where'd you get +it? Show it to me."</p> + +<p>He went into the little closet. When he came out, she +went in. And presently, as she sauntered into the kitchen +once more, he plunged past her and the tiny room received +him a second time—all of which was according to a method +they had worked out long ago. He was up-headed, and +his eyes sparkled as he unpinned a towel from under +Grandpa's chin and trundled the wheel chair back from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a><a href="images/064.png">[64]</a></span> +the table. His look said that he defied all criticism.</p> + +<p>She reached for the camera-box. Her manner wholly +lacked enthusiasm. "I guess it's a good story," she conceded +kindly. "I heard about it lots when I was in school. +But, my! It's so raggy!"</p> + +<p>"Raggy!" scoffed Johnnie. "Huh! I don't care what +it <i>looks</i> like!"</p> + +<p>When she, too, was gone, he omitted his usual taking of +the air at the window. He even denied himself the pleasure +of calling up his four millionaires and telling them of his +good fortune. The main business of the day was the book. +Would Aladdin's order for a palace, complete, be carried +out? Would that ambitious Celestial marry the Princess +of his choice? Johnnie could scarcely wait to know.</p> + +<p>Following a course that he had found good these several +years past, he wound the alarm clock a few times and +set it to ring sharp at four in the afternoon—which would +give him more than a full hour in which to wash Grandpa, +make the beds and sweep before Big Tom's return. This +done, he opened the book on the table, dug a hand into his +tousled mop, and began to read—to read as he might have +drunk if thirst were torturing him, and a cool, deep cup +were at his lips. For the book was to him really a draught +which quenched a longing akin to thirst; it was a potion +that gave him new life.</p> + +<p>As the story of stories unfolded itself, step by step, the +ragged street urchin whose father had been a poor tailor, +attained to great heights—to wealth and success and +power. Johnnie gloried in it all, seeing such results as +future possibilities of his own, and not forgetting to remark +how kind, through all the upward trending of fortune, +Aladdin had been to his mother (though he, himself, +did not pause in his enjoyment of the tale to take the regular +train trip with Grandpa).</p> + +<p>Twice during the morning the old soldier, by whimpering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a><a href="images/065.png">[65]</a></span> +insistently, brought himself to Johnnie's attention. But +the moment Grandpa was waited upon, back Johnnie went +to his book, and page was turned upon page as the black +magic of the hateful African wafted that most perfect of +palaces many a league from its original site, and separated +for his own wicked purposes the loving Aladdin and his +devoted Buddir al Buddoor.</p> + +<p>And then—all of a sudden—and for no reason that +Johnnie could name, but as if some good genie of his own +were watching over him, and had whispered a warning, +he cast off the enthrallment of Asia, stopped dragging at +his hair, started to his feet, slid the book under his collar-band, +and took stock of the time.</p> + +<p>It was twelve. Indeed, the noon whistles were just beginning +to blow. But they and the clock did not reassure +him. He had been dimly aware, the past hour or so, of a +strange state of quiet overhead. That awareness now resolved +itself into a horrible fear—the fear that, in spite of +lunches put up and a clock wound to clang at four in the +afternoon, the day was—Saturday!</p> + +<p>"Gee!" breathed Johnnie, and paled to a sickly white.</p> + +<p>His first thought was to make sure one way or another. +Scurrying to the window, he pushed it up, hung out of it +toward the Gamboni casement, and called to a sleek head +that at this time of the day was almost certain to be +bobbing in sight. There it was, and "What day is this, +Mrs. Gamboni?" he demanded. "Quick! Is it Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si!</i>"</p> + +<p>Saturday! A half-day! <i>Barber!</i></p> + +<p>He threw himself backward, then stood for a moment, +panic-stricken. Of course it was Saturday. Which explained +why Mrs. Kukor was out. Oh, why had she not +stopped by on her way to church? Oh, why had he left +any of his work undone? Oh, for some genie to finish it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a><a href="images/066.png">[66]</a></span> +all up in a second! Oh, for some Slave of a Ring or a +Lamp!</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he breathed again. "This was the shortest Saturday +mornin' in the world!"</p> + +<p>There now came to the fore the practical side of his +nature. He knew he must do one of two things: stay, and +take the whipping that Big Tom would surely give him, +or—go.</p> + +<p>What had heretofore kept him from going was the fact +that he had no clothes. By the end of his first year in the +flat, the little suit he had been wearing when he came was +in utter rags. Big Tom had bought him no new suit, declaring +that he could not afford it. So Johnnie had had +to decide between putting on some of Cis's old garments or +Barber's mammoth cast-offs. He chose the latter, which +Mrs. Kukor offered to alter, but Barber refused her help. +And she knew at once what Johnnie did not guess: the +longshoreman wanted the boy to appear ridiculous.</p> + +<p>The plan worked. The first time Johnnie had ventured +into the area wearing his baggy breeches and a voluminous +shirt, the boys who had from the first called "Girl's hair!" +at him changed their taunt to "Old clothes!" It had sent +him scurrying back into the flat, and it had kept him there, +so that Big Tom had some one to look after Grandpa +steadily, and bring in a small wage besides.</p> + +<p>But now not even the likelihood of being mocked for his +ragged misfits could keep Johnnie back. Darting into the +hall, he crouched in the dark passage a moment to listen, +his heart pounding so hard that he could hear it; then certain +that the way was yet clear, he straddled the banisters +and, with his two strong hands to steady him and act as a +brake to his speed, took the three flights to the ground +floor.</p> + +<p>As Big Tom usually entered the area by the tunnel-like +hall that led in from the main street to the south, Johnnie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a><a href="images/067.png">[67]</a></span> +headed north, first taking care to glance out into the area +before he charged across it, blinded by its glare after the +semidark of the Barber rooms. He was hatless. His +hair and his fringe flew. His feet flew, too, as if the longshoreman +were at their horny little heels.</p> + +<p>The north tunnel gained, he scampered along it. As he +dodged out of it, and westward, again the glare of the +outdoors blinded him, so that he did not see a crowd that +was ahead of him—a crowd made up wholly of boys.</p> + +<p>He plunged among the lot. Instantly a joyous wrangle +of cries went up: "Girl's hair! Girl's hair! Old clothes! +Old clothes!" A water-pistol discharged a chill stream +into his face. Hands seized him, tearing at his rags.</p> + +<p>Savagely he battled at the center of the mob, hitting, +kicking, biting. His sight cleared, and he made the blows +of his big hands tell. "Leave me alone!" he screamed. +"Leave me alone!"</p> + +<p>The crowd doubled as men and women rushed up to see +what the excitement was all about. Then hands laid hold +of Johnnie's tormentors, hauling them back, and suddenly +he found himself free. Once more he took to his heels, and +panting, dripping, scarlet and more ragged than before, +he fled ignominiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a><a href="images/068.png">[68]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>MORE TREASURES</h3> + + +<p class="cap">WHEN he had put half a dozen blocks behind him, +he slackened his pace, took a quick look into several +doorways, chose one that promised seclusion, +dove into it, got his breath back, made sure that the +precious book was safe, and then indulged himself in a +grin that was all relief.</p> + +<p>The grin narrowed as he remembered that Grandpa was +alone in the flat. "Oh, but Big Tom or Mrs. Kukor'll be +home soon," he reflected; and comforted his conscience +further by vowing that, given good luck, he would in no +time be in a position to return for the purpose of enticing +away both Cis and the old soldier (men are men, and in the +stress of the moment he did not give a thought to that slim, +little, dark-haired girl). He could not help but feel hopeful +regarding his plans. Had not just such adventuring +as this accomplished wonderful results for his new friend, +Aladdin, a boy as poor as himself?</p> + +<p>He did not stay long in the doorway. He felt sure that +the moment Barber returned a search of the neighborhood +would be made, during which people would be questioned. +Discretion urged that more blocks be put between the flat +and that small back which so dreaded the strap. So off he +went once more—at a lively trot.</p> + +<p>Though during the last five years he had not once been +so far away from the area as this, he was not frightened. +A city-bred boy, he felt as much at ease, scuttling along,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a><a href="images/069.png">[69]</a></span> +as a fish in its native waters, or a rabbit in its own warren. +He had taken a westward direction because he knew that +the other way East River lay close, shutting off flight. +Now he began to read the street signs. Cis had often +talked of a great thoroughfare which cut the city into two +unequal parts—a one-time road, she said it was, and so +long that it ran through other cities. This was the street +Johnnie wanted—being the one he had heard most about. +It was a street called Broadway.</p> + +<p>As he traveled, he passed other dirty, ragged, little boys. +His head was the yellowest of them all, his clothes were +the poorest. But he was scarcely noticed. The occasional +patrolman did not more than glance at him. And he was +fully as indifferent. At his Aunt Sophie's, a policeman—by +name Mike Callaghan—had been a frequent visitor, +when he was wont to lay off not only his cap but his coat +as well, and sit around bareheaded in his shirt-sleeves, +smoking. This glimpse of an officer of the law, shorn, as it +were, of his dignity, had made Johnnie realize, even as a +babe, that policemen are but mortals after all, as ready to +be pleased with a wedge of pie as any youngster, and given +to the wearing of ordinary striped percale shirts under +their majestic blue. So Johnnie was neither in awe of, +nor feared, them.</p> + +<p>What he did keep a fearsome eye out for was any man +who might be an African magician. That he would know +such a man he felt sure, having a fair idea from a picture +in his book of the robe, headdress, sandals and beard +proper to magicians in general. But though he was alert +enough as he traveled, the only unusual-looking person he +met up with was a man with a peg leg and a tray of shoelaces.</p> + +<p>That peg leg frightened him. For a moment he was inclined +to take to his heels, certain that this was the same +wooden-legged man who gave Cis fruit. Then the tray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a><a href="images/070.png">[70]</a></span> +reassured him. Shoelaces were one thing; fruit was another. +And even if this one-legged man were full brother +to the one-legged man of the fruitstand (Johnnie took for +granted a whole one-legged family), he himself would be +far away before any member of that family could get in +touch with Barber.</p> + +<p>It was while he was boldly inspecting the shoe-lace man's +peg leg that he discovered he was in Broadway, this by +reading the name of the street on the front of a passing +car. "Gee!" he exclaimed, taking a good look up and down +the thoroughfare.</p> + +<p>Now he began really to enjoy himself. He pattered +leisurely along, stopping at this window and that, or leaned +against a convenient water plug to watch the traffic stream +by.</p> + +<p>He was resting, and gazing about him, when the wagon +driver came up. The driver was a colored youth in a +khaki shirt and an overseas cap, and his wagon was a +horseless affair, huge and covered. The colored man, halting +his truck to let a cross current of vehicles pass, dazzled +Johnnie with a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>Johnnie grinned back. "You goin' up Broadway?" he +asked, with a jerk of his head toward the north.</p> + +<p>"All the way up t' Haa'lem," answered the black man, +cordially. "Climb aboa'd!"</p> + +<p>There was a loop of chain hanging down from the end-board +of the truck. Johnnie guided a foot through it +stirrup-wise and reared himself into an empty wagonbed. +Then as the wheels began to turn, he faced round, knelt +comfortably, and let Broadway swiftly drop behind.</p> + +<p>He could not see all the new and engrossing sights that +offered themselves in the wake of the truck and to both +sides. His ears were packed with strange noises. Yet +entertained as he was, from time to time he took note of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a><a href="images/071.png">[71]</a></span> +the cross streets—Eighth, then Tenth, next, busy Fourteenth.</p> + +<p>From time to time the colored man took note of him. +"You-all thay yit?" he would sing out over a shoulder; +or, "Have Ah done los' you, kid?" Upon being reassured, +he would return to his problem of nosing a way along with +other vehicles, large and small, and Johnnie would once +more be left to his fascinating survey.</p> + +<p>At Twentieth, he very nearly fell out on that shining +head, this at catching sight of a mounted patrolman. No +figure in his beloved book seemed more splendid to him +than this one, so noble and martial and proud. Here was +a guardian of the peace who was obviously no common +mortal. Then and there, as the mounted dropped gradually +into the background, Johnnie determined that should +he ever be rich enough, or if hard work and study could +accomplish it, he would be a mounted policeman.</p> + +<p>At Twenty-third Street, Broadway suddenly took a +sharp turn—toward the right. Also, it got wider, and +noticeably cleaner. More: suddenly confronted with the +gigantic, three-cornered building standing there, a structure +with something of the height and beauty of his own +dream edifices, he realized that he was now entering the +true New York. This was more like it! Here was space +and wealth and grandeur. Oh, how different was this +famous street from either of those which gave to the +building in the area!</p> + +<p>Then he discovered that he was not traveling a street +at all! He was skimming along an avenue. And it was +none other than Fifth Avenue, for the signs at corners +plainly said so. Fifth Avenue! The wonderful, stylish +boulevard which Cis mentioned almost reverently. And +he was in it!</p> + +<p>The next moment he was truly in it. For at sight of a +window which the truck was passing, and without even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a><a href="images/072.png">[72]</a></span> +stopping to call to the driver, Johnnie dropped himself +over the end-board to the smooth concrete. The window +was no larger than many a one he had glimpsed during +the long drive northward. What drew him toward it, as +if it were a powerful magnet, was the fact that <i>it was full +of books</i>.</p> + +<p>"My!" he whispered as he gained the sidewalk in front +of the window. There were books standing on end in +curving rows. There were others in great piles. A few +lay flat. It had never occurred to him, shut up so long in +a flat without any book save the telephone directory, that +there could be so many books in the whole of New York. +And all were so new! and had such fresh, untorn covers!</p> + +<p>He had stood before the window quite some time, his +eyes going from book to book thoughtfully, while one hand +tugged at his hair, and the other, thrust into his shirt +front, caressed his own dear volume, when he became conscious +of the near presence of two people, a man and a +woman. The woman was the nearer of the two. On glancing +up at her, he found her looking down. That embarrassed +him, and he stopped pulling at his hair.</p> + +<p>She smiled. "Do you like books, little boy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "More'n <i>anything!</i>" he declared fervently.</p> + +<p>A pause; then, "Would you like to have a book?" she +asked next.</p> + +<p>At that, pride and covetousness struggled for first +place in him. Pride won. He straddled both feet a bit +wider and thrust a thumb into his belt. "I've got a book," +he answered.</p> + +<p>So far as he was concerned, he thought his remark commonplace, +ordinary—certainly not at all amusing. But +there was never any telling how this thing or that would +strike a grown-up. The man's mouth popped open and +he exploded a loud laugh, followed by a second and louder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a><a href="images/073.png">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sh! sh!" admonished the woman, glancing at Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"It's old, but it's always good," protested the man, +half apologetically.</p> + +<p>Along with his boasting, Johnnie had drawn Aladdin +forward to the opening in his shirt. Evidently the man had +caught a glimpse of that torn cover. Now the boy hastily +poked the book to a place under one arm. "It <i>is</i> old," he +conceded. "But that don't hurt it—<i>I</i> don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you don't!" chimed in the woman, heartily. +"A book's a book as long as it holds together. Besides +some books are more valuable as they get older."</p> + +<p>"Sure!" agreed Johnnie.</p> + +<p>She left them and went inside. And Johnnie found +himself being stared at by the man.</p> + +<p>The man was a millionaire. Johnnie noted this with a +start. He had a way of recognizing millionaires. When +he lived with his Aunt Sophie, his Uncle Albert was the +chauffeur of one. On the two occasions when that wealthy +gentleman showed himself at his red-brick garage in Fifty-fifth +Street, he wore a plush hat, dark blue in color, and +an overcoat with a fur collar. This short, stout stranger +before the window wore the same.</p> + +<p>But he was as friendly as possible, for he continued the +conversation. "Nice looking lot of books," he observed. +"Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie nodded again. "What kind of a place would y' +call this?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"A store," informed the other. Now he stared harder +than ever, so that Johnnie grew uneasy under the scrutiny, +and began to consider rounding the nearest corner to get +away. "Never seen a bookstore before, eh?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie shook his head. "Don't have 'em where I live," +he explained.</p> + +<p>"No? And where do you live?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a><a href="images/074.png">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie felt more uneasy than ever. He determined to +be vague. "Me? Oh, just over that way," he answered, +with a swing of the arm that took in a full quarter of +the horizon—including all territory from Beekman Place +to the Aquarium.</p> + +<p>The woman rejoined them. In one hand she carried a +book. It was a blue book, not quite so large as the story +of Aladdin, but in every way handsomer. She held it out +to Johnnie. "Here's another book for you," she said. +"You'll love it. All boys do. It's called <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>."</p> + +<p>Afterwards he liked to remember that he had said +"Thank you" when she placed the book in his hands. He +was too overcome to look up at her, however, or smile, or +exclaim over the gift. He stood there, thrilled and gaping, +and holding his breath, while the ends of his red fingers +went white with holding the new book so tight, and his +pale face turned red with emotions of several kinds, all of +them pleasant. At last, when he raised his eyes from the +book to her face, that face was gone. The millionaire was +gone, too.</p> + +<p>Johnnie opened the book. It did not open easily, being +so new. But how good it smelled! And, oh, what a lot of +it there was, even though it was smaller than the other! +For the letters were tiny, and set close together on every +page. Twenty to thirty pages Johnnie turned at a time, +and found that there were six hundred in all. Also, there +was one picture—of a man wearing a curious, peaked cap, +funny shoes that tied, and knee trousers that seemed to +be made of skins.</p> + +<p>It was while he was turning the pages for a second time +that he chanced upon the dollar bill. It was between two +pages toward the back of the book, and he thought for a +moment that it was not there, really, but that he was +just thinking so. But it was there, and looked as crisply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a><a href="images/075.png">[75]</a></span> +new as the book. He ran to the corner and stared in every +direction, searching for the millionaire and the woman.</p> + +<p>Then he felt sure that she had not known the money was +in the book. Instead, it belonged to the store, and had +somehow got tucked between the leaves by mistake. A +revolving door gave to the bookshop. He entered one +section of it and half circled his way in.</p> + +<p>Never in his boldest imaginings had he thought of such +a place as he saw now. It was lofty and long, with glistening +counters of glass to one side. But elsewhere there +were just books! books! books!—great partitions of them, +walls solidly faced with them, the floor piled with them +man-high. He forgot why he had come in, forgot his big +clothes, his bare feet, his girl's hair, the new blue book, +and the dollar.</p> + +<p>"Yes? Well? What d' you want?"</p> + +<p>It was a man speaking, and rather sharply. He was a +red-headed man, and he wore spectacles. He came to +stand in front of Johnnie, as if to keep the latter from +going farther into the shop.</p> + +<p>Johnnie held up the new book. "A lady bought me +this," he explained; "and when I opened it I found all this +money." Now he held out the dollar.</p> + +<p>There were many people in the store. Some of them +had on their hats, others were bareheaded, as if they belonged +there. A number quietly gathered about Johnnie +and the red-haired man, looking and listening. Johnnie +gave each a swift examination. They were all so well-dressed, +so different from the tenants in the area building.</p> + +<p>"The lady slipped the dollar into the book for you," +declared the red-headed man. "Wasn't that mighty nice +of her?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie silently agreed. A dozen pairs of eyes were +watching him, and so many strange people were embarrassing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a><a href="images/076.png">[76]</a></span> +He began slowly to back toward the revolving +door.</p> + +<p>"What're you going to buy with your dollar, little boy?" +asked a man in the group—a tall man whose smile disclosed +a large, gold tooth.</p> + +<p>The question halted Johnnie. Such a wonderful idea +occurred to him. The dollar was his own, to do with as +he liked. And what he wanted most——</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to buy some more books with it," he answered. +And turned aside to one of the great piles.</p> + +<p>There was more laughter at that, and a burst of low +conversation. Johnnie paid no attention to it, but appealed +to the red-headed man. "What's the best book y' +got?" he inquired, with quite the air of a seasoned shopper.</p> + +<p>Again there was laughter. But it seemed to be not only +kind but complimentary—as if once more he had said +something clever or amusing. However, Johnnie kept his +attention on the red-headed man.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm afraid no two people would ever agree as to +which is our best book," said the latter. "But if you'll +tell me what you like, I'll do my best to find something +that'll suit you."</p> + +<p>Johnnie, glancing about, reflected that, without question, +Cis's speller had come from this very room! The +arithmetic, too!</p> + +<p>"Got any spellers to-day?" he inquired casually—just +to show them all that he knew a thing or two about books.</p> + +<p>"In several languages," returned the man, quite calmly.</p> + +<p>"I like Aladdin better," announced Johnnie. Then +trying not to sound too proud, "I got it here with me right +now." Whereupon he reached into the baggy shirt and +drew forth Mrs. Kukor's gift.</p> + +<p>"Bless his heart!" cried a woman. "He <i>does</i> love them!"</p> + +<p>To Johnnie this seemed a foolish remark. Love them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a><a href="images/077.png">[77]</a></span> +Who did not? "If you got another as good as this one," +he went on, "I'd like t' buy it."</p> + +<p>The red-headed man took <i>Aladdin</i>. Then he shook his +head. The group was moving away now, and he and Johnnie +were to themselves. "I'm afraid this book would be +hard to equal," he said earnestly. "They aren't writing +any more just like it—which is a pity. But you stay +here and I'll see what I can find." He gave <i>Aladdin</i> back, +and hurried off.</p> + +<p>There was a chair behind Johnnie. He sat down, his +two precious books and the dollar on his knees. Then +once more he looked up and around, marveling.</p> + +<p>He was aware that several of those who had been in the +group were now talking together at a little distance. They +seemed a trifle excited. The red-headed man joined them +for a moment, listened to what they had to say, and took +some money from each of them (Johnnie concluded that +all were bookbuyers like himself) before hurrying on between +two high walls of books. In anticipation of more +literary possessions, Johnnie now slipped his two volumes +inside the shirt, one to the right, one to the left, so that +they would not meet and mar each other.</p> + +<p>When the red-headed man came back, he brought three +books, all new and handsome. "I think you'll like these," +he declared. "See—this one's called <i>The Legends of King +Arthur and his Knights</i>, and this one is <i>The Last of the +Mohicans</i>, and here's <i>Treasure Island</i>."</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," said Johnnie, heartily. His eyes shone +as he gathered the books to him. His one thought now +was to get away and read, read, read. Quickly he proffered +the dollar bill.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you keep the money," said the red-headed man +"You'll need it for something else. Take the books—compliments +of the house!"</p> + +<p>"No!" Johnnie was aghast. He was used to paying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a><a href="images/078.png">[78]</a></span> +for what he got—his food, his bed, his rent. "Oh, gee! I +want to pay, Mister. I want 'em to be all mine.—But is +there any change comin' back t' me?"</p> + +<p>Once more he heard laughter—from behind the pile of +books nearest him; then that woman's voice again: "Oh, +the darling! The darling!" Even as she spoke, she moved +into sight.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had heard ladies speak about him in just that +way before. He knew that if they came near to him it was +to lay hands on his yellow mop. He wanted none of that +sort of thing here, in this glorious house full of books, before +all these men.</p> + +<p>"Your books came out just a dollar even," replied the +red-headed man.</p> + +<p>"Thank y', Mister!" Johnnie, his new purchases +clasped tight, sidled quickly toward the street.</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't I wrap 'em up for you?" called the other.</p> + +<p>Johnnie was already revolving in his quarter-section of +the remarkable door. He shook his head. Going sidewise, +he could see that quite a few of those inside were still +watching him. He flashed at them one of his radiant +smiles. Then the door disgorged him upon a step, the great +Avenue received him, and he trotted off, dropping his +books into his shirt, one by one, as he went, precisely as +Aladdin had stuffed his clothes with amethysts, sapphires +and rubies.</p> + +<p>Before he reached the next block he was fairly belted +with books; he was armored with them, and looked as if he +were wearing a life preserver under his folds and pleats.</p> + +<p>The sun was still high, the air warm enough for him—if +not for a fur-collared millionaire. And Johnnie did not +feel too hungry. His one wish was to absorb those five +books. He began to keep an eye out for a vacant building.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" he exclaimed. "Think of me runnin' +into the place where all the books come from!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a><a href="images/079.png">[79]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>ONE-EYE</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE left the Avenue, turning east. Now all plans +concerning Broadway were given up; also, he felt +no anxiety about getting lost. For he went at random.</p> + +<p>Yet he was businesslike, and walked rapidly. No window, +however beautiful, lured him to pause. He did not +waste a single minute. And soon he was gazing up at a +really imposing and colossal structure which, big as it +looked (for it seemed to occupy a whole block), was +plainly not in use. At one corner the building mounted +to a peak. On going all the way around it, he discovered +smaller peaks at each of the other corners. There were +any number of entrances, too; and, of course, fire escapes.</p> + +<p>It suited him finely. On one side of this old palace—for +he was sure it could be nothing short of a palace—was +a flight of steps which led up to a small door. This entrance +was an inconspicuous one, which could not be said +of the several porticoed entrances. Beside the steps, in +the angle made by the meeting of the wall with them, was +conveniently set a small, pine box. Johnnie had hunted a +vacant building with the intention of entering it. But now +he decided to read first, and steal into the palace later, +under cover of the dark. Down he sat upon the box, out +of the way of a breeze that was wafting a trifle too freshly +through the street.</p> + +<p>One by one he took out the three books he had just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a><a href="images/080.png">[80]</a></span> +bought, this in order to give them a closer scrutiny than +the store had afforded him; and to start with he met that +"glorious company, the flower of men," who made up the +Table Round, and who, if the colored pictures of them +were to be believed, made his mounted policeman of an +hour before seem a sorry figure. And their names were +as splendid as their photographs—Launcelot, and Gawain, +Gareth and Tristram and Galahad. Remembering that he +was called Johnnie, he felt quite sick.</p> + +<p>When, after poring over the half-dozen illustrations, +he was forced to the conclusion that nothing could surpass +the knights of King Arthur, he opened <i>The Last of +the Mohicans</i> and found himself captured, heart and soul, +by the even more enticing Uncas and his fellows, superb +bronze creatures, painted and feathered, and waving tomahawks +that far outshone any blunt lance.</p> + +<p>He had to change his mind again. For bringing himself +to tuck away his Indians and fetch forth <i>Treasure +Island</i>, he was rewarded by the sight of a piratical crew +who easily surpassed even the redmen. The fiercest of +these pirates, a gentleman by the name of Long John +Silver, was without question the pick of the lot. To begin +with, Mr. Silver undoubtedly belonged to the New York +family of peg legs, which, of course, brought him nearer +than his brother pirates. However, what especially recommended +him was a pistol-filled belt.</p> + +<p>"Gee! I'm glad I got mine!" Johnnie declared, since +the chief-pirate's belt was strikingly like the one binding +in Big Tom's cast-off clothes; and he willingly forgot what +the strap of leather had done to him in the past in realizing +its wonderful possibilities for the future.</p> + +<p>Finally he was ready to begin reading. He was loyal to +his friend Aladdin then, whom he had left, on the fatal +stroke of twelve, in rather dire straits. The Oriental +wonder book on his knees, he resumed the enthralling story,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a><a href="images/081.png">[81]</a></span> +his lips and fingers moving, and—in the excitement of it +all—his misty eyebrows twisting like two caterpillars.</p> + +<p>Pedestrians hurried past him, motor vehicles and surface-cars +sped by—for Fourth Avenue lay in front; but +what he saw was Aladdin in chains; Aladdin before the +executioner; Aladdin pardoned, yet aghast over the loss +of his palace and the beloved Buddir al Buddoor, and ready +to take his own life.</p> + +<p>The afternoon went swiftly. Evening came. But the +nearest street lamp was lighted in advance of the dark. +Engrossed by the awful drama transpiring in Africa, where +Aladdin and his Princess were plotting to rid themselves +of the magician, Johnnie did not know when lamplight took +the place of daylight.</p> + +<p><i>The Princess, who began to be tired with this impertinent +declaration of the African magician, interrupted him and +said, "Let us drink first, and then say what you will afterwards;" +at the same time she set the cup to her lips, while +the African magician, who was eager to get his wine off +first, drank up the very last drop. In finishing it, he had +reclined his head back to show his eagerness, and remained +some time in that state. The Princess kept the cup at her +lips, till she saw his eyes turn in his head——</i></p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" cried Johnnie, relieved at this fortunate end +of the crisis, for his very hair was damp with anxiety. +"His eyes've turned in his head!"</p> + +<p>"Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon!"</p> + +<p>This strange exclamation, drawled in a nasal tone, came +from the steps at his back. He started up, jerking sidewise +to get out of reach of the hands that belonged to the +voice, and clutching his book to him. But as he faced the +speaker, who was peering down at him from the top of the +steps, wonder took the place of apprehension.</p> + +<p>For to his astonished and enraptured gaze was vouchsafed +a most interesting man—a man far and beyond and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a><a href="images/082.png">[82]</a></span> +above anybody he had ever before beheld in the flesh. This +person was tall and slender, and wore a blue shirt, a plaid +vest hanging open but kept together with a leather watchchain, +a wide, high, gray hat, and—most wonderful of all—a +pair of breeches which, all down the front, were as +hairy as any dog!</p> + +<p>It was the breeches that gave the stranger his startling +and admirable appearance—the breeches and his face. +For directly under the hat, which was worn askew, was +one round, greenish eye, set at the upper end of a nose +that was like a triangle of leather. The eye held the geographical +center of the whole countenance, this because its +owner kept his head tipped, precisely as if he had a stiff +neck. Under the leathery nose, which seemed to have +been cut from the same welt as the watchchain, was a +drooping, palish mustache, hiding a mouth that had lost +too many teeth. As for the other eye, it was brushed aside +under the band of the hat.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" breathed Johnnie. Wearing fur trousers instead +of a fur collar, here, without doubt, was a new kind of +millionaire!</p> + +<p>The latter took a cigar out of an upper vest pocket +and worried one end of it with a tooth. "It's half-pas' +seven, sonny," he said.</p> + +<p>Johnnie backed another step. Half-past seven gave +him a swift vision of the flat—Grandpa asleep, Barber +pacing the splintery floor in a rage, Cis weeping at the +window, Mrs. Kukor waddling about, talking with tongue +and hands. He had no mind to be made a part of that +picture. He resolved to answer no questions, while with a +dexterous movement he slipped Aladdin into his shirt and +got ready to run.</p> + +<p>The other now sat down, scratched a match nonchalantly +on a step, and let the light shine into that single +green eye as he set an end of the cigar afire; after which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a><a href="images/083.png">[83]</a></span> +he proceeded to blow smoke through his nose in a masterly +fashion, following up that feat with a series of perfect +smoke rings.</p> + +<p>Still on his guard, Johnnie studied the smoker. The +big gray hat came to a peak—like the highest corner of +the empty palace. Below the hairy trousers the lower +parts of a pair of black boots shone so brightly that they +carried reflections even at that late hour. The boots were +tapered off by spurs.</p> + +<p>What was there about this man that made him seem +somehow familiar? Johnnie puzzled over it. And decided +at last, correctly enough, as it turned out, that the explanation +lay in those shaggy trousers.</p> + +<p>He was not afraid to make an inquiry. "Mister," he +began politely, "where did y' buy your pants?"</p> + +<p>The effect of this question was startling. The man +pushed back his hat, threw up his head, rescued the burning +cigar, then emitted an almost catlike yowl. For some +minutes several people had been watching him from a +respectful distance. Now, hearing the yowl, these onlookers +drew near. He rose then, instantly sober, set the +hat forward, descended the steps, and held out a friendly +left hand to Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Come on, sonny," he coaxed. "Ain't it eatin' time? +Let's go and pur-<i>chase</i> some grub."</p> + +<p>Johnnie, for all that he had been practically a recluse +these past several years, had, nevertheless, the metropolite's +inborn indifference to the passerby. He had scarcely +noticed the steadily increasing group before the steps. +Now he ignored them all. He was hungry. That invitation +to partake of food was welcome.</p> + +<p>He advanced and held out a hand. The one-eyed man +grasped it, descended the last step or two, pushed his way +through the crowd without looking to right or left, and +led Johnnie down the street at such a pace that the bare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a><a href="images/084.png">[84]</a></span> +feet were put to the trot—which was not too fast, seeing +that supper lay somewhere ahead.</p> + +<p>Johnnie felt proud and flattered. He made up his mind +to be seen talking to his tall companion as they fared +along. "Guess you're not a longshoreman," he said, to +begin the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Me?" drawled the other; then, mysteriously, "Wal, +sonny, I'll tell y': if I am, I ain't never yet found it out!"</p> + +<p>Then silence for half a block. Johnnie studied his +next remark. The direct way was the most natural to +him. He tried another query. "And—and what do y' +do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do?"—this stranger seemed to have Grandpa's habit +of repeating the last word. "Oh, I val-lay a hoss."</p> + +<p>Johnnie was no wiser than before, but he felt it good +manners to appear enlightened. "You—you do that back +there?" he ventured next.</p> + +<p>"Yeppie. In the Garden."</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie was hopelessly lost. Val-lay meant nothing, +hoss even less; as for a garden, he vaguely understood +what that was: a place where beans grew, and potatoes; +yes, and wizen-faced prunes. But though he had +circled about the neighborhood considerably since leaving +the bookstore, he had caught no glimpse of any garden—except +that one belonging to Aladdin. Ah, that was it! +This strange man's garden was down a flight of steps!</p> + +<p>"Do you grow cabbages in your garden?" he asked, +"or—or diamonds?"</p> + +<p>"How's that?" demanded the other; then as if he had +recovered from a momentary surprise, "Oh, a little of +both."</p> + +<p>"Both!"</p> + +<p>"But—but this ain't what you'd call a good year for +diamonds. Nope. Too many cutworms."</p> + +<p>Johnnie wanted to ask if all gardeners wore hairy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a><a href="images/085.png">[85]</a></span> +trousers. Then thought of a subject even more interesting. +"Mister,"—he put a note of genuine sympathy into +his voice—"how'd you come t' lose your eye?"</p> + +<p>"My eye?"—Grandpa's habit again. "Wal, this is +how"— He frowned with the eye he had left, and pursed +his lips till his mustache stood out fearsomely.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" encouraged Johnnie, whose mind was picturing +all sorts of exciting events in which the tall man, as the +hero, fought and was injured, yet conquered his enemies.</p> + +<p>"Sonny," the other went on sadly, "I jes' natu'lly got +my eye pinched in the door."</p> + +<p>Pinched in the door! Johnnie stared. <i>Pinched in the +door?</i> How could that happen? What might a man be +doing that such an accident should come to pass? He +put his free hand to one of his own eyes, fingering it +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>Before he could come to any conclusion, the one-eyed +man had halted before the blazing, glassed-in front of +a restaurant that fairly dazzled the sight. It was, as +Johnnie saw, such a place as only millionaires could +afford to frequent. In the very front of it, behind that +plate window, stood men in white, wearing spotless caps, +who were cooking things in plain view of the street. And +inside—for the one-eyed man now boldly opened a door +and entered, drawing Johnnie after him—were more men +in white, and women similarly garbed. The high walls +of the great room were white too, like the hall of a sultan's +palace. And seated at long tables were splendidly +attired men and women, enjoying their supper as calmly +as if all this magnificence were nothing to them—nothing, +though the tables were of marble!</p> + +<p>However, every man and woman in the wonderful place +showed marked excitement on the appearance of Johnnie +and his escort. They stopped eating. And how they +stared! They bent to all sides, whispering. For a mo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a><a href="images/086.png">[86]</a></span>ment, +Johnnie felt sure that, ragged as he was, the palace +did not want him, and that he was about to be ordered +out. He hung back, wishing with all his heart that he +had done his hanging back earlier, outside the door, for +instance.</p> + +<p>Then, relief; for he recognized that all the interest was +kindly. One of the ladies in white—a beautiful, stately +person—showed them grandly to chairs at either side of +a table; a second lady brought them each a glass of +ice water, and condescended to listen to their wants in +the supper line. About them people smiled cordially.</p> + +<p>The one-eyed man was now bareheaded. And Johnnie, +just as he was leaning back, prepared to enjoy himself +to the full, suddenly noted, and with a pang, that his +host, shorn of his headgear, was far less attractive in +appearance than when covered; did not seem the strange, +rakish, picturesque, almost wild figure of a moment before, +but civilized, slick, and mild.</p> + +<p>For one thing, that shut eye was in full view, which +subtracted from the brigandish look of his countenance; +for another, the shaggy trousers were—naturally—in +total eclipse. Then he had mouse-colored hair which +matched his mustache, whereas it should have been black—or +bright red. To make matters worse, the hair had +recently been wet-combed. It was also fine and thin, +especially over the top of the head, from where it had +been brought straight down upon the forehead in a long, +smooth, shining bang which (and this not a quarter-inch +too soon) turned to sweep left. Contrasting with the +oily appearance of the bang were some hairs at the very +crown of the head. These—a few—leaned this way and +that, making a wild tuft.</p> + +<p>Johnnie wished with his whole heart that the stranger +would again put on his hat.</p> + +<p>Another feature thrust itself upon Johnnie's notice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a><a href="images/087.png">[87]</a></span> +Out from the front of his host's throat, to the ruination +of such scant good looks as he had, protruded an Adam's +apple that was as large and tanned and tough-looking +as his nose. On that brown prominence a number of long +pale hairs had their roots. These traveled now high, now +low, as the one-eyed man drank deep of the ice water. +And Johnnie felt that he understood the sad quiet of this +queer, tall person. In his case the stork had been indeed +cruel.</p> + +<p>The hat was swinging from a near-by hook—one of a +double line of hooks down the long room. Under the hat +was a sign. Johnnie read it; then centered his stare on +the hat. At any moment he expected to witness something +extraordinary. That was because across the placard, +in neat, black letters, were the words: <i>Watch your +Hat and Coat</i>.</p> + +<p>He reached to touch the one-eyed man. "Say, Mister!" +he whispered, "Y' see what it says? Well, what'll +happen if we watch?"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" ejaculated the other, slewing that one green +eye round to glance upward. "That's jes' it! If y' watch, +<i>nuthin'll</i> happen!"</p> + +<p>It was a good thing to know at the moment. For the +second lady was back, bringing supper with her—a smoking +dish of mingled meat and vegetables, another of pork +and beans, a cup of coffee, a glass of milk, an orange, and +bread and butter.</p> + +<p>Butter! Johnnie could scarcely believe his eyes. He +almost thought this was one of Buckle's meals, and that +the butter would melt, figuratively speaking, before his +longing look. But it stayed, a bright pat, as yellow +as his own hair, on a doll's dish of a plate. And as +Johnnie had not tasted butter for a very long time, he +proceeded now, after the manner of the male, to clear that +cunning little dish by eating the choicest thing first.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a><a href="images/088.png">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for the one-eyed man, his knife, held in his left hand, +was going up and down between the dish of beans and +his mouth with mechanical regularity. At the bean dish, +he covered the long blade with a ruddy heap. Then balancing +it all nicely, he swung it ceiling-ward, met it +half-way by a quick duck of the mouse-covered head, and +swept it clean with a dextrous, all-enveloping movement.</p> + +<p>Johnnie was hungry too. The butter gone, along with +its complement of bread, he attacked his share of the +meat and vegetables, using, however (which was to Cis's +credit), a fork. The dish was delicious. He forgot even +the placard.</p> + +<p>So far the one-eyed man had proven to be anything +but a talkative person. Under the circumstances this +was just as well. Johnnie could not have shared just then +in a conservation. Twice during the meal he reached +down and let out the strap a hole or two. And for the +first time in his life he was grateful for the roominess of +Barber's old clothes.</p> + +<p>Half an hour, and Johnnie was, as he himself expressed +it, "stuffed like a sausage." The orange, he +dropped into his shirt-band to find a place with the books, +there being no space for it internally.</p> + +<p>"Full up, eh?" demanded the one-eyed man, mopping +at his mustache so hard with a paper napkin that +Johnnie expected to see the hairy growth come away +from its moorings under the leathery nose.</p> + +<p>"It was a feast!" pronounced Johnnie, borrowing from +the language of his friend Aladdin. A moment later he +gasped as he saw his host carelessly ring a fifty-cent +piece upon the gorgeous marble of the table top. Then +the meal had cost so much as that! As he trotted doorward +in the wake of the spurred heels, his boy's conscience +faintly smote him. He almost felt that he had +eaten too much.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a><a href="images/089.png">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My goodness!" he murmured, his glance missing the +variegated mosaic of the floor.</p> + +<p>But still another moment, and the one-eyed man had +halted at a desk which stood close to the front door, and +was throwing down a one-dollar bill, together with some +silver.</p> + +<p>Johnnie knew something was wrong. His host was +forgetful, absent-minded. He realized that he must interfere. +"You jus' paid the lady!" he warned in a hasty +whisper.</p> + +<p>The other nodded sadly as he settled the big hat. +"Yeppie," he returned. "But y' see, sonny, it's this-away: +if you got jes' one eye, w'y, they make y' pay twicet!"</p> + +<p>Another gasp. It was so grossly unfair!</p> + +<p>However it had all proved to him beyond a doubt that +here was a man of unlimited wealth. On several occasions +Uncle Albert's millionaire had treated Johnnie to candy +and apples. But now the riches of that person seemed +pitifully trivial.</p> + +<p>They fared forth and away in the same order as they +had come.</p> + +<p>But not so silently. Food, it seemed, was what could +rouse the one-eyed man to continued speech. He began +to ask questions, all of them to the point, most of them +embarrassing.</p> + +<p>"Say, what in the name o' Sam Hill y' got cached inside +that shirt?"—this was the first one.</p> + +<p>"Books," returned Johnnie, promptly, "and the +orange."</p> + +<p>"Y' kinda cotton t' books, eh?" the other next observed.</p> + +<p>"Not cotton," replied Johnnie, politely. "They're made +of paper."</p> + +<p>"Y' don't tell me?—And what y' want me t' call y'?"</p> + +<p>"My—my—my," began Johnnie, trying to think and +speak at the same time, with small success in either di<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a><a href="images/090.png">[90]</a></span>rection. +Then feeling himself pressed for time, and helpless, +he fell back upon the best course, which was the +simple truth. "My name's Johnnie Smith," he added.</p> + +<p>The truth was too simple to be believed, "Aw, git out!" +laughed the one-eyed man, with a comical lift of the +mustache. "And I s'pose y' live with the Vanderbilt fambly, +eh?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie's eyes sparkled. There was in the question a +certain something—an ignoring of bare facts—which +made him believe that this man and he were kindred souls.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't live with 'em," he hastened to say. "But I +talk to Mister Vanderbilt ev'ry day on the tel'phone."</p> + +<p>The stranger seemed neither doubtful nor amazed. +Johnnie liked him better and better. Taking a fresh +hold of the other's horny hand, he chattered on: "I talked +to Mister Astor yesterday. He asked me t' go ridin' with +him, but I had t' take a trip t' Niagarry."</p> + +<p>"Hope y' didn't hurt his feelin's none,"—the tone was +grave: that one green eye looked anxious.</p> + +<p>Johnnie only shook his head. He did not care to go +further with the discussion of the Astor-Smith friendship.</p> + +<p>However, the one-eyed man himself turned the conversation, +"Goin' back home t'night?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>Johnnie raised startled eyes. "N-n-no," he returned. +"I-i-if I was to, I'd have to take a terrible lickin'."</p> + +<p>"Mm." The one-eyed man seemed to understand; then, +presently, "Your paw?—or your maw?"</p> + +<p>"No relation at <i>all</i>," protested Johnnie. "Just the man +where I live."</p> + +<p>"He feeds y' O. K.," put in the other. "I was noticin' +back yonder in the chuck-house how plump y' are."</p> + +<p>Johnnie said nothing. There were things he could tell, +if he wanted to, which had to do with comparisons between +Aunt Sophie's table and Big Tom's. But these things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a><a href="images/091.png">[91]</a></span> +would contradict the one-eyed man; and Johnnie knew +from experience that grown-ups do not like to be contradicted.</p> + +<p>Just ahead was that great palace, lifting dark towers +against the glowing night sky. If the one-eyed man lived +there, if the palace actually contained a garden (and it +seemed large enough to contain any number of gardens), +Johnnie wanted, if possible, to spend some time under +that vast roof. So it was wise not to say anything that +might bring him into disfavor; especially when what he +wanted most now was shelter and a reading light.</p> + +<p>He grasped the other's hand firmly and flashed up what +was intended for a beguiling smile. "He don't ever feed +me like <i>you</i> do," he declared, with dazzling diplomacy.</p> + +<p>The compliment was grandly passed over. "But he +shore dresses y' tiptop!" was the next assertion.</p> + +<p>At that, some inkling of the other's real meaning came +to Johnnie. He tried, but in vain, to catch that single +eye. But even in the half light it was busy taking in every +detail of Big Tom's shirt and trousers. "Y'—y' think +so?" Johnnie ventured, ready to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Think so!" cried the one-eyed man, spiritedly. "W'y, +he must jes' about go broke at it! Lookee! Twicet as +much shirt as y' need, and at least five times as much +pants!"</p> + +<p>Certainly there was no denying the statement. However, +there was another side to Barber's generosity that +Johnnie longed to discuss. Yet once more he decided +to invite no argument. "It'll be worse if I had t' wear +girl's clothes," was what he returned, philosophically.</p> + +<p>The street was dark just there. He was not able to +mark the facial expression which now accompanied a +curious sound from the region of the Adam's apple. But +when the light at the palace corner was reached, a quick +glance showed a stern visage, with mouth set hard and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a><a href="images/092.png">[92]</a></span> +that green eye burning. And Johnnie's heart went out +of him, for now he doubted again.</p> + +<p>They paused at the foot of those steps. "Do y' go t' +school?" asked the one-eyed man.</p> + +<p>Johnnie shook his head. "He don't let me," he declared. +But he was as careful as ever to speak with no bitterness. +Without question, in this tall stranger Big Tom had an +ally.</p> + +<p>"He don't let y'," drawled the other. "Don't let y' go +t' school. Hm!—Say, y' know, I think I'd like that +feller!"</p> + +<p>He must get away! Suddenly throwing all the weight +of himself and his books into the effort, Johnnie tried to +pull free of his companion, using both hands.</p> + +<p>The one-eyed man held on. His grasp was like steel—yes, +even like Big Tom's grasp. "Aw, sonny!" he cried, +as if suddenly <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'repentent'">repentant</ins>. Then seizing Johnnie under +both arms, he swung him to the top of those steps.</p> + +<p>That same moment wide doors opened before them, and +a vast, dim place was disclosed to the boy's astonished +view. "Why—! What—! Oh—!" he marveled.</p> + +<p>The one-eyed man shut the doors by retreating and +giving them a push with his back. Then he thrust +Johnnie toward a second flight of steps. These led down +to a basement only partly lighted, full of voices, tramplings, +and strange smells. Frightened, Johnnie made out +the upraised heads of horses—lines of them! He could +see a group of men too, each as big-hatted and shaggy-trousered +as this one who still had him about his middle.</p> + +<p>A great cry went up from that group—"Yip! yip! +yip! yip! <i>yee-e-e-e-eow!</i> One-Eye!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mister," breathed Johnnie, "is it the circus?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a><a href="images/093.png">[93]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE SURPRISE</h3> + + +<p class="cap">"GIT on t' the size of it! . . . . Oh, my Aunt +Sally! . . . . Lookee what the cat brung in! . . . . Boys, +ketch me whilst I faint! . . . . Am +I seein' it, or ain't I—w'ich? . . . . Say! they's +more down cellar in a teacup!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie understood that it was all about himself, and +even guessed that he looked a little queer to these men +who appeared so strange to him. They were gathered +around in a boisterous circle, exclaiming and laughing. +He revolved slowly, examining each. Some were stocky +and some spindling. Two or three were almost boyish; the +others, as old as One-Eye. But in the matter of dress, +one was exactly like every other one—at least so far as +could be judged by a small boy in a moment so charged +with excitement.</p> + +<p>He felt no resentment at their banter, sensing that it +was kindly. He liked them. He liked the great, mysterious +basement. He felt precisely like another Aladdin. +No magical smoke had gone up, and no stone had been +lifted. Yet here he was in a new and entrancing world!</p> + +<p>He would have liked to stay right there at the foot of +the stairs for a long time, in order to give adequate study +to every one of the shaggy men. But One-Eye suddenly +grasped him by the hand again and led him away—down +a long, curving alley that took them past a score of +horses. Each horse was in a stall of its own, and under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a><a href="images/094.png">[94]</a></span> +each was straw as yellow as Johnnie's own hair. Electric +bulbs lit the whole place grandly, disclosing saddles and +straps and other horse gear, hung at intervals along the +alley.</p> + +<p>In one of his swift visions, he now saw himself as a +member of this <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'fasciniating'">fascinating</ins> crew, wearing, like them, long, +hairy breeches, a wide hat, spurs, and a neckerchief, and +setting gaily forth in a cavalcade to be admired by a +marveling city!</p> + +<p>Far along, where the alley swerved sharply, One-Eye +halted him. Here was a vacant stall, except that it was +half-filled with straw. A coat hung in it, and in the iron +feed box in one corner nested a pair of boots. Plainly +this was a camping place, and Johnnie thrilled as they +turned into it, and he stood almost waist deep in clean +bedding.</p> + +<p>"Have a chair," insisted One-Eye, with a gentle +shoulder pat.</p> + +<p>Johnnie sat. Even as he went down he felt that he +really was coming to understand this new friend better. +Of course there was no chair. It was just the other's +way of saying things—an odd, funny way. His back +braced against a stall side, he grinned across at One-Eye, +now squatted opposite him, and smoking, this in splendid +disregard of a sign which read plainly: <i>No Smoking</i>.</p> + +<p>Johnnie did not speak. His experience with Big Tom +had taught him at least one valuable lesson: to be sparing +with his tongue. So he waited the pleasure of his companion, +sunk in a trough of the straw, ringed round with +books, his thumbs in his palms and his fingers shut tight +upon the thumbs through sheer emotion, which also showed +in two red spots on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Reckon y' don't want t' go out no more t'night," observed +One-Eye, after a moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a><a href="images/095.png">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No." Johnnie held his breath, hoping for an invitation.</p> + +<p>It came. "Thought y' wouldn't. So camp right here, +and to-morra we'll powwow."</p> + +<p>"All right." Johnnie's voice shook with relief and delight; +with pride, too, at being thus honored. He rolled +up the coat for a pillow when One-Eye rose and threw it +down to him; and being offered a horse blanket, pulled +it up to his brows and lay back obediently, to the peril +of the orange, which was under him, and so to his own +discomfort.</p> + +<p>"So long, sonny." The single green eye gleamed down +at him almost affectionately from under the wide brim.</p> + +<p>"Thank y'," returned Johnnie.</p> + +<p>For a long time he lay without moving, this for fear +One-Eye might come back. When he took his books out +of his shirt, he did not read, though the stall was brightly +lighted, only watched a pair of nervous brown ears that +kept showing above the stall-side in front of him. Something +was troubling him very much. It seemed to be something +in his forehead; but it was in his throat most of all; +though that spot at the end of his breastbone felt none +too well.</p> + +<p>Whatever it was, it had a great deal to do with Cis (the +mere thought of her made his eyes smart) and with Grandpa. +Freedom and new friends he had; more books, too, +than he could read in a year—or so it seemed to him as +he measured the pile under the orange. Then why, having +the best bed he had known since the one with the blue +knobs at Aunt Sophie's, why could he not go to sleep? +or, if he was not sleepy, why did he not want to read? +or summon to him Aladdin, or David with Goliath, or +Mr. Rockefeller?</p> + +<p>He pulled hard at his hair.</p> + +<p>The truth was, he was learning something about him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a><a href="images/096.png">[96]</a></span>self. +He was finding out that to get away from danger +was only part of his problem: the other part was to get +away from his own thoughts, his feelings—in short, his +conscience. For try as he might, as he lay there, he +could not keep the wheel chair out of his sight!</p> + +<p>It stood before him in the yellow bedding, and the +little old man seated in it kept holding out trembling +hands. The thin, bearded face was distorted pathetically, +and tears streamed from the faded eyes. If Johnnie +turned his head away from the chair, he met other eyes—eyes +young and blue and gentle. Poor Cis, so shy always, +and silent; so loving and good!</p> + +<p>Down into One-Eye's coat went Johnnie's small nose, +and so hard that to this unfreckled feature was instantly +transferred the pain in his forehead and throat and +breast; and his hurt was for a moment changed into the +physical, which was easier to bear. Yes, they were left +behind alone, those two who were so dear to him.</p> + +<p>Even with the horse blanket over both ears he could +hear the wheel chair going from the stove to the window, +from the window to the hall door, while the old soldier +whimpered and called. He could hear Cis call, too—his +name. But it was Grandpa who hurt him the most. Cis +was quite grown-up, and had girl friends, and her work, +and the freedom to go to and from it. But Grandpa!—his +old heart was wrapped up in his Johnnie. So childish +that he was virtually a little boy, he had for Johnnie the +respect and affection that a little boy gives to a bigger +one.</p> + +<p>Next, bright, shining, birdlike eyes were smiling at him—Mrs. +Kukor! The horse blanket shook. At either side +of Johnnie's nose a damp spot came on One-Eye's coat.</p> + +<p>But fortunately the trembling and the tears were seen +by no human eyes, only by a brown pair that belonged to +those brown ears. And presently, when the nearest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a><a href="images/097.png">[97]</a></span> +lights went out, leaving Johnnie's retreat in gloom, the +pictures that smote him changed to those of a sleeping +dream, and he wandered on and on through a vast white +garden that grew hats and coats—in a double row.</p> + +<p>When he wakened, the lights were on again. As he +rose he made up his mind to win One-Eye's consent to his +remaining in this big palace—which had turned out to +be a horse palace. "'Cause I dassn't go back!" he +decided. The enormity of what he had done in leaving +the flat and staying away a whole night, he now realized. +A creepy feeling traveled up and down his spine at the +thought of it, and he shook to his calloused heels.</p> + +<p>Then with a grin, he remembered that no one knew +where he belonged. Furthermore, as One-Eye did not +believe that Johnnie Smith was his real name, he had +only to hint that he was somebody else, which would throw +his new friend completely off the track.</p> + +<p>He leaned against the stall and pulled at his hair, considering +that problem of staying on. To his way of +thinking, there was only one good scheme by which to +win the approbation of anybody, and that scheme was +work. So when he had tugged at his hair till the last +straw was out of it, he pattered off down the runway, +determined to find some task that needed to be done.</p> + +<p>The great place appeared strangely deserted as to +men. So he came across no one whom he could help. As +for the occupants of the giant circle of stalls, he did not +know what service he could offer them. He felt fairly sure +that horses' faces were not washed of a morning. And +they had all been fed. But why not comb their hair? +Searching up and down for a possible comb, he spied a +bucket. Then he knew what he could do.</p> + +<p>The job was not without its drawbacks. For one +thing, the horses were afraid of him. They wrenched at +their hitching-chains when he came close to their heels,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a><a href="images/098.png">[98]</a></span> +or blew noisily, or bunched themselves into the forward +ends of their stalls, turning on him startled, white-rimmed +eyes. He offered the dripping bucket only to the more +quiet ones.</p> + +<p>He worked his way down the long line that stood nearest +the spigot, now staggering and splashing as he lugged a +full pail, now scampering back happily with an empty one. +And he was beside a stairway, and on the point of taking +in a drink to the horse stalled closest to the entrance, +when he heard several voices, the creak of doors, and footsteps. +So he paused, the bucket swinging from both +hands, until half a dozen pairs of shaggy legs appeared +just above him. Then as the big hats were bobbing into +view, so that he knew his labors could be seen and appreciated, +he faced round with the pail and entered the stall.</p> + +<p>The next moment there sounded a dull bang, followed +by the loud ring of tin, a breathless cry, and the swish +of flying water—as Johnnie came hurtling headlong out +of the stall, the bucket preceding him, a shod hoof in his +immediate wake, and the contents of the pail showering +in all directions. There was a second bang also dull, +as he landed against the bottom step of the stairs at the +very feet of the horrified men.</p> + +<p>A chorus of cries went up. But Johnnie's voice was +not a part of it. Hurt, winded, and thoroughly scared, +he lay in a little ragged heap, a book thrusting up the +big shirt here and there, so that he looked to have broken +not a few bones.</p> + +<p>"That flea-bit mare!" charged One-Eye, dropping +Johnnie's breakfast and picking up the boy.</p> + +<p>"Pore kid! . . . . And he was workin'! . . . . Is he +hurt bad? . . . . That ongrateful bronc'! . . . . Totin' +the blamed thing water, too!"—thus they sympathized +with him as he swayed against One-Eye, who was steadying +him on his feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a><a href="images/099.png">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>Breath and tears came at the same moment—the latter +in spite of him. But he wept in anger, in disappointment +and chagrin and resentment, rather than in pain. The +books having now fallen into place in the pouch of the +shirt, it was evident there were no fractures.</p> + +<p>"Shore of it," pronounced One-Eye. "I've felt him +all over."</p> + +<p>Furthermore, a book had undoubtedly received the full +force of the implanted hoof; and save for a darkening +patch on Johnnie's left arm, he was as good as ever, +though slightly damp as to both spirits and clothing. +For it was his feelings that were the more injured. His +proffer of a drink had been repaid by an ignominious kick +that had landed upon him under the very eyes of those +whom he most wanted to impress.</p> + +<p>"Now what'd Mister Vanderbilt say if he knowed!" +mourned One-Eye; "or Mister Astor! They'd be plumb +sore on me!—My! my! my!"</p> + +<p>These remarks shifted Johnnie's inner vision to other +scenes, and having already guessed that he was not broken +in two, he considered One-Eye's plaint with something of +a twinkle in his eyes, and fell once more to dragging at +his hair.</p> + +<p>Willing hands now refilled the battered bucket and +washed his tear-wet face. After which One-Eye recovered +the breakfast—an egg sandwich and a banana—and proceeded +to lay down the law.</p> + +<p>"With that hurt arm o' your'n, sonny," he began, "it's +back to home, sweet home. And if that feller, Tom, licks +y', w'y, I'll jes' nat'ally lick him."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't lick him," informed Johnnie, turning his +sandwich about in search for a location thin enough to +admit of a first bite. "He's the strongest longshoreman +in N'York. He can carry five sacks of flour on his back, +and one under both arms."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a><a href="images/100.png">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>Disdainfully One-Eye lifted his lone brow, and he +passed over the remark. "The point is," he continued, +"that if y' ever figger t' go back, now's the time."</p> + +<p>Johnnie saw the argument. And to his own surprise +he found himself willing to go. "Prob'ly Big Tom'll only +pull my ear," he said philosophically. "And he won't do +that much, even, if—if <i>you</i>'ll go along."</p> + +<p>"Will I!" cried One-Eye. "Wal, it'd take a twenty-mule +team t' holt me back!"</p> + +<p>"Honest?" For this fellow was a wag, and there was +no telling what he really meant to do.</p> + +<p>"If I don't, I'll eat my shaps!" promised One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"Then I guess you better tie up my arm," went on +Johnnie, which bit of inspired diplomacy sent the whole +sympathizing group into whoops of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Ain't he the ticket?" demanded one man.</p> + +<p>One-Eye 'lowed that he was.</p> + +<p>The tying was done. First the purplish spot was +swathed in white; and as the injury was below the raveling +edge of the sleeve, the bandage was in plain sight, +and carried conviction with it. Next a sling was made +out of a blue-patterned handkerchief of One-Eye's. +Proudly Johnnie contemplated the dressing. Here was +not only insurance against a whipping, but that which +lent him a peculiar and desirable distinction.</p> + +<p>"You'll go all the way up with me?" he asked One-Eye. +(Now was the time to make sure of the future.) "Y' see +it's Sunday. He'll be home."</p> + +<p>"Up and in," vowed the latter. "Come along!"</p> + +<p>There were hearty good-bys to be said, and Johnnie +had his well arm thoroughly shaken before One-Eye helped +him climb the stairs. He would gladly have prolonged +his leave-taking. For one thing, he had not half inspected +that mammoth basement—not to mention the huge, dim +place overhead. And the horse that had kicked him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a><a href="images/101.png">[101]</a></span> +merited a second look. But "Let's go whilst the goin's +good," counseled One-Eye. So Johnnie fell in beside him, +holding well to the front that interesting bandage.</p> + +<p>"Y' live far?" One-Eye wanted to know. This was +when they were out by that lamp post which had lighted +Johnnie's reading.</p> + +<p>"Clear 'way down to the other end of Broadway almost," +boasted Johnnie. "'N' then you go over towards +the Manhattan Bridge."</p> + +<p>"That so! Clear way down!—And how'd y' git up +this far?" That green eye was as keen as a blade.</p> + +<p>"Rode up—in a' automobile." Johnnie did not like to +spoil the picture by explaining that the automobile was +a truck, and that he had found it strewn with chicken-feathers.</p> + +<p>"All right," returned One-Eye. "Then we'll ride +<i>down</i>." Inserting a knuckle into his mouth between two +widely separated teeth that were like lone sentinels, he +blew a high, piercing summons. At the same time, he +swung his arm at a passing taxicab, stopping it almost +electrically. And the thing was done.</p> + +<p>As the taxicab rolled to the curb, Johnnie turned his +back upon it for a last look at the palace. How huge it +was! "And I'll bet the Afercan magician couldn't even +move it," he decided. He promised himself that one day +he would come back to it, and climb to its several towers.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-a-all aboard!" One-Eye lit a large, magnificently +banded cigar. He handed a second, fully as thick +and splendid, to the staring, but respectful, individual who +was to drive them—a young, dark man, very dirty, and in +his shirt-sleeves (he was seated upon his coat), who seemed +so impressed by the elder of his passengers as to be beyond +speech. "Over t' Broadway, and down," instructed One-Eye. +"We'll tell y' when t' whoa."</p> + +<p>Calmly Johnnie climbed into the taxicab, and carelessly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a><a href="images/102.png">[102]</a></span> +he took his seat. Then the car plunged westward before +a reeking cloud of its own smoke. Under way, he elevated +that small nose of his and drank deep of the—to him—good +smell of gasoline. Had not his Aunt Sophie often +pronounced it clean and healthy?</p> + +<p>However, despite this upward tilting, he did not appear +to be at all proud of the fact that he was riding; and +One-Eye fell to watching him, that green eye round with +wonder. For here was this little ragamuffin seated high +and dry in a first class taxi, and speeding through the city +in style, yet with the supreme indifference of a young +millionaire!</p> + +<p>"City younguns shore take the bak'ry!" One-Eye observed +admiringly, aiming the remark at his driver, who +sat somewhat screwed about on his seat in such a way +that he could, from block to block, as some other car +slowed his machine, regale his astonished eyes with those +fur-fronted breeches.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this banana'll be enough," politely returned +Johnnie, having caught the word bakery but missed the +real meaning of the statement. Calmly as ever, he divested +the fruit of its skin and cast the long peelings upon the +floor of the cab. In his time he had sat for hours at a +stretch in the regal limousines of Uncle Albert's rich +man; and he regarded a taxicab without awe.</p> + +<p>One-Eye chuckled.</p> + +<p>Presently Johnnie was dragging at his mop as he ate. +Which was proof that he was meditating. Indeed he was +thinking so hard that he failed to note the large amount +of attention which he and his companion were attracting. +So far he had not mentioned Grandpa to this friendly +stranger—this for fear of harming his own case, of hastening +his return home. Now the omission somehow appeared +to be almost a denial of the truth. Nor had he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a><a href="images/103.png">[103]</a></span> +spoken of Cis. All this called for correction before the +flat was reached.</p> + +<p>By way of clearing up the whole matter, he began with +an introduction of Cis. "There's a girl lives where I +do," he announced casually.</p> + +<p>"Y' don't say! Sister? Cousin? She must 'a' missed +y'."</p> + +<p>"No relation at all. But she's awful nice—I like her. +She's sixteen, goin' on seventeen, and I'm goin' t' steal +her away soon's ever I grow up."</p> + +<p>"I git y'.—Say, Mister, go slow with this gasoline +bronc' of your'n! Y' know I'd like t' see little old Cheyenne +oncet more before I check in,"—this to the chauffeur, as +the taxicab shaved the flank of a street car going at high +speed, then caromed to rub axles with a brother machine.</p> + +<p>"You'll meet her," promised Johnnie, who did not +think they were going too fast, and who had completely +forgotten it was Sunday, which meant that Cis would be +at home without fail; "'cause once before, when I burnt +my hand, she stayed away from work two whole days. +Big Tom never lets Grandpa be alone." (He thought +that rather a neat way to bring in the old man.)</p> + +<p>With a sidewise tipping of the big hat, One-Eye directed +a searching look to the bare head at his elbow. +"Other days, <i>you</i> take care of said ole man," he returned.</p> + +<p>Johnnie nodded. "I like him."</p> + +<p>The silence that followed was <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'embarrasing'">embarrassing</ins>. He knew +One-Eye was watching him. But not liking to glance up, +he was unable to judge of his companion's attitude. So +he began again, changing the subject. "Cis is awful +pretty," he confided. "Once she was a May Queen in +Central Park for her class at school, only it wasn't in +May, and she had all the ice cream she could eat. Mrs. +Kukor made her a white dress for that time, and I made +some art'ficial vi'lets for 'round her hair. Oh, she looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a><a href="images/104.png">[104]</a></span> +fine! And she saw the Prince of Wales when he was in +N'York and ever since she's liked just him."</p> + +<p>One-Eye took the cigar from his mouth. "It'd be a +grand match for her," he conceded. His tone implied +that the alliance with Royalty was by no means a remote +possibility.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-aw!" scoffed Johnnie, flashing up at One-Eye +a wise smile. "All the girls at Cis's fac'try seen him, too, +and they all like him just the same as she does. But the +Prince, he's got t' marry a Princess."</p> + +<p>One-Eye agreed. "Pretty tough," he observed sympathetically, +and went back to his cigar.</p> + +<p>"So Cis'll have t' marry a movin'-picture actor," concluded +Johnnie; "—or a cowboy."</p> + +<p>At that the cigar fairly popped from One-Eye's countenance. +"A cowboy!" he cried, the green eye dancing. +"W'y, that'd be better'n a Prince!"</p> + +<p>"It would?" Johnnie considered the idea.</p> + +<p>"Certainly would—t' <i>my</i> way of thinkin'." In their +brief acquaintance One-Eye had never before shown such +interest, such animation.</p> + +<p>"How d' you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," answered One-Eye, stoutly, "that cowboys +is <i>noble</i> fellers!"</p> + +<p>Before Johnnie could argue the matter further, or ask +any one of the thousand questions that he would have +liked to get explained regarding cowboys, the driver interrupted +to demand how much farther southward he was +expected to go; and as Chambers Street was even then +just ahead, the eastern turn was made at once, which set +Johnnie off along a new line of thought—his coming ordeal.</p> + +<p>And this ordeal was not the meeting with Big Tom, +which he dreaded enough, but which he believed would not +have to be endured for at least some hours; it was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a><a href="images/105.png">[105]</a></span> +having to face, in company with this rich and important +acquaintance, that gang of boys who so delighted to +taunt him.</p> + +<p>Anxiously his gray eyes searched ahead of the taxicab, +which was now picking its way too swiftly through +streets crowded with children. This ability to invest the +present with all the reality of the future, how wonderful it +could be!—but how terrible! For he was suffering greatly +in advance, and writhing on the leather-covered seat, +and all but pulling out his yellow hair.</p> + +<p>"Arm ache y'?" One-Eye wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Guess so," faltered Johnnie. Then his face turned a +sickly pale, and he shouldered a bit closer to his escort. +A feeling of suffocation meant that his breath had stopped. +And upon his untanned forehead oozed the perspiration +of dismay. Also, his cheeks mottled. For just before +them were two of those boys whom he feared!—as if they +had sprung from a seam in the sidewalk! They were +staring at the taxicab. They were looking at Johnnie +(who stole a nervous look back). Now they were following +on!</p> + +<p>Johnnie's jaw set; his teeth clenched. He steeled himself +to bear public insult.</p> + +<p>Too many children had now brought the taxicab down +to a crawling gait. Slowly it rolled on through shouting, +Sunday-garbed youngsters. And fast grew the crowd +which kept pace with it. But it was a silent crowd, as +Johnnie's ears told him, for his chin was on his breast and +his eyes were fixed upon the meter—in agony, as if he, +and not One-Eye, would have to pay a charge which had +already mounted high in three figures. <i>Why</i> was that +crowd silent? And what were those boys preparing to +do—two were now several—who held all things in scorn? +who made even the life of the patrolman on the beat a +thing to be dreaded?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a><a href="images/106.png">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>The uncertainty was crushing.</p> + +<p>"Home in a jiffy," soothed One-Eye, who felt sure the +ride had been too much of a strain.</p> + +<p>"Stop here," whispered Johnnie, catching sight, after +a turn or two, of one of those entrances which gave to +the area.</p> + +<p>The taxicab stopped. In a hush that actually hurt, +One-Eye rose and descended, flipping a five-dollar bill to +the driver. "But don't you go," he directed. "I'll want y' +t' tote me back uptown."</p> + +<p>Johnnie rose then—feebly. Once more he held that +bandaged arm to the front. His faltering eyes said that +the injury was a plea—a plea for courteous treatment +before this distinguished stranger. Oh, he knew he was +a girlish-headed ragbag, but if they would only spare +him this once!</p> + +<p>One-Eye took his hand. "Step careful, sonny," he +advised, almost tenderly. Then to those pressing round, +"Back up, won't y'? Give this boy room? Don't y' see he's +hurt?"</p> + +<p>This was what so emboldened Johnnie that he decided, +even as a bare foot sought the running-board of the machine, +to take one good look around. He paused, therefore, +lifted his head, and let his glance deliberately sweep +the crowd.</p> + +<p>What he saw fairly took his breath; brought a flush +to his sober little face, and strengthened him, body and +soul—but especially spine. For before him was a staring, +admiring, respectful, yes, and fascinated, even awe-struck, +assemblage. There were grown people in it. There were +more above, to both sides, leaning out of windows. And +every mouth was wide!</p> + +<p>Was it One-Eye in his startling garb? or the professional +touch to his own appearance, in the shape of that +dramatic, handkerchief-slung arm? or was it both?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a><a href="images/107.png">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>No matter. Instantly reacting to this solemn reception, +Johnnie managed a pale smile. "Much obliged!"—this +he said gaily as his feet touched the concrete. He +was experiencing such pride as had been his before only +in his "thinks."</p> + +<p>This was a moment never to be forgotten!</p> + +<p>"Now maybe I better lead—ha?" What satisfaction +there was in addressing One-Eye thus familiarly in the +teeth of the enemy!</p> + +<p>"Break trail!" said One-Eye. Then, "Gangway!" he +sang out to the crowd. Next, with a swift circular fling of +an arm, he scattered a handful of small coins to right +and left upon the street.</p> + +<p>The crowd swayed, split, and scattered like the money. +A path cleared. One-Eye at his side, Johnnie stepped +forward.</p> + +<p>Now he would have liked to hang back, to loiter a bit, +delaying their disappearance, and enjoying the situation. +But One-Eye, ignoring every one, as if crowds bored him, +was headed for the hall like a fox to its hole, taking long, +impressive, shaggy-legged strides.</p> + +<p>Behind, the boys Johnnie had feared scrambled without +shame for One-Eye's small silver. While he, the "Old +clothes," the "Girl's hair," the mocked and despised, was +walking, as man with man, beside the wonderful One-Eye +before whom those same boys had not dared to utter a +single slur!</p> + +<p>His satisfaction was complete!</p> + +<p>"Home again!" he cried, feeling ready to do a hop-skip +except that it would take away from the effect they had +made.</p> + +<p>Oh, he could stand a whipping in the privacy of the flat +if a whipping was waiting for him at the top of those +three flights—now that this public part of the return had +gone so magnificently!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a><a href="images/108.png">[108]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p class="cap">AND yet, after all, there was no sense in taking a +strapping if it could just as well be avoided.</p> + +<p>In the area he halted One-Eye, and they talked +the matter over. The latter had no trouble at all in +seeing Johnnie's attitude. "Was a boy myself oncet," +he declared. "Used t' git the end of a rope ev'ry little +while—yeppie, the <i>knot</i>-end, and that's how——"</p> + +<p>But here Johnnie interrupted the story which seemed +to be under way in order to urge some plan of action. +However, it did not take long to fix upon one, this while +One-Eye was finishing his cigar, the last inch of which, +he asserted, was the best part, since in the process of +smoking he had drawn into it all "the good" of the whole +outward-extending portion. And while One-Eye smoked, +Johnnie, who felt much better, went over their plan in +detail, talking gaily between giggles.</p> + +<p>"But, say! You be solemn!" warned One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"We don't want t' make 'em all feel <i>too</i> bad, though," +argued Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Sonny," counseled the other, "we'll savvy how we +oughta behave <i>after</i> we see how the hull proposition strikes +the bunch."</p> + +<p>Johnnie agreed. But he already knew just how their +entrance (which was nothing short of inspired) would +"strike" the flat. He <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'forsaw'">foresaw</ins> it all: first, glad cries of +"Johnnie!" from Cis and Grandpa, and a frightened ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a><a href="images/109.png">[109]</a></span>clamation +from Big Tom, whose anger would instantly +melt; next, tears would flow as those two who were dearest +hastened to the prodigal, and there would be anxious +questions, and words of sweet consolation. On the +strength of the return perhaps Barber would even buy +pop!</p> + +<p>After that, what an affecting picture!—the patient on +his bed of pain—the maiden with cooling cloth and wash +basin—the loving and much-troubled old man who did not +dare wheel about for fear of jarring the hurt arm—a certain +square-built lady, rocking this way and that (on her +toes), her face all motherly solicitude—the stranger, with +the gravest possible bedside manner—and, lastly, hovering +somewhere in the offing, the outstanding figure of +the whole composition, the humbled bully.</p> + +<p>When Johnnie asked for his bed (which was part of the +plan, for those books must be concealed under the quilt +till dark), how they would all jump to fetch it; and when +he asked for tea what an eager bustling, Barber rattling +the stove lids, and—for once!—getting his huge fingers +smudged, and Cis filling the kettle at the Falls of Niagara. +The tea brewed, and Johnnie propped to drink it, +with Mrs. Kukor to hold the cup to his lips, he would +smile across at One-Eye as he sipped—but smile only +faintly, as befits the very ill.</p> + +<p>And then! One-Eye, urged by all the others, would tell +his tale of the boy, weary and hungry, whom he chanced +upon wandering some street (he had promised not to say +which one!), and escorted to supper, and afterward to +the great horse palace. He would relate how he had insisted +that Johnnie sleep in the palace that night, though—no +doubt of it!—the latter had fretted to return home. +"But I jes' couldn't leave him do it, no matter how much +he begged," One-Eye was to declare; "he was that tuck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a><a href="images/110.png">[110]</a></span>ered. +And this mornin', here he was, workin'! Say, but +he's a A-1 worker!"</p> + +<p>What a chorus would interrupt him!—a chorus of +agreement. Then would follow a description of that terrible +flea-bitten mare, and of Johnnie's bravery; of the +fierce kick, and the boy's quiet bearing of his agony, all +closing with a word about the wound and its seriousness.</p> + +<p>Next, it would be Big Tom's turn. And he would tell +of a home bereft, of an old man's pitiful grief (oh, dear, +loving Grandpa!), and of two broken-hearted ladies. +Doubtless the longshoreman would touch also upon the +fact that he was considerably out of pocket, but Johnnie +would not mind that.</p> + +<p>Cis, likely, would have nothing to say, but would look +all she felt; and Grandpa would sandwich a few words +in between other people's. But Mrs. Kukor! Hers would +be the story worth hearing! Oh, that volume of broken-English! +Johnnie counted upon it.</p> + +<p>With such pleasing thoughts he occupied himself as he +and One-Eye stole up the stairs. But when they were +just outside the door of the flat, the chimes of Trinity +began to ring, sounding above the grinding of the nearest +Elevated Railroad. Those clanging summons reminded +Johnnie that Big Tom would surely be at home, and he +suffered a sudden qualm of apprehension. He looked +longingly over a shoulder, wishing he might turn back. +He had a "gone" feeling under his belt, and a tickling in +his throat (it was very dry), as if his heart had traveled +up there and got wedged, and was now going like Uncle +Albert's watch.</p> + +<p>But of course there could be no turning back—not now. +They must go in. And quickly, for a few of the curious +had followed them up from the area and were making +too much noise in the halls. So One-Eye bent and +scooped Johnnie up in his arms, holding him in a horizontal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a><a href="images/111.png">[111]</a></span> +position—yellow head hanging down to one side, both feet +ditto to the other, body limp, the bandaged arm well forward, +the eyes closed, all toes still, and—most important—an +expression of bravely endured pain.</p> + +<p>"Look as pale as ever y' can!" whispered One-Eye.</p> + +<p>All this preparation was the work of a moment. Then +One-Eye gave the door a vigorous and imperative kick. +At the same time he began to talk to Johnnie, anxiously, +soothingly: "It's all right, sonny! It's all right! Keep +a stiff upper lip! 'Cause y're home now. Pore kid! My! +That was a lucky 'scape!"</p> + +<p>This last was spoken into the kitchen, for Cis had sped +to answer the kick, and swung the door wide.</p> + +<p>And now Johnnie, eyes tight closed, but with ears +cocked, waited for that expected burst of greeting—that +mingling of glad cries and so forth. But—there was +dead silence.</p> + +<p>In astonishment up went the flaxen lashes. And +Johnnie saw that while Cis was looking with all her +might, it was not at him! And Grandpa, mouse-still, +was not looking at him either! Nor was Big Tom, putting +down his pipe at the table.</p> + +<p>Furthermore there were no tears from any quarter, +and no pitying glances, and not a sign of relief! The trio +before him, in what seemed to be amazed fascination, were +staring at One-Eye!</p> + +<p>It was Big Tom who spoke first. His face, after its +Sunday shave, wrinkled into a really bright smile. "Well, +by thunder!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my!"—this was Cis, whose hands were clasped in +what to Johnnie seemed a very silly way. And she was +wearing her exalted, Prince-of-Wales expression.</p> + +<p>He was irritated, and resentful, and stung to the quick. +What was the matter with them? Oh, none of them cared! +They were acting precisely like that crowd around the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a><a href="images/112.png">[112]</a></span> +taxi! And, oh, there would be no pop! And, oh, what—<i>what</i> +would One-Eye think.</p> + +<p>Johnnie burst into tears.</p> + +<p>One-Eye was already thinking. With Johnnie held +tight in his arms, he had been staring at each of the trio +in turn, that single eye getting harder and harder, till +it looked as if it were made of glass; till it resembled a +green marble; and his mustache, as he puckered up his +mouth in astonishment, had been lifting and falling, lifting +and falling.</p> + +<p>But as Johnnie's sobs came, One-Eye half turned, as if +to go, then spied the kitchen chair, and sat heavily, in +sheer disgust. "Wal, I'll be jig-<i>sawed!</i>" he vowed. "The +kid's right? And I might 'a' knowed it!"</p> + +<p>But things got better. For now there swelled forth a +high, thin wail from old Grandpa, whose pale eyes had +been roving in search for the one who was weeping, had +discovered Johnnie, and was echoing his grief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up, Pa!" ordered Barber harshly; while Cis, +for fear the neighbors would hear, unwittingly shut the +hall door in the face of Mrs. Kukor, who had come out of +her own place at One-Eye's kick to see what was happening.</p> + +<p>"I'll be stop-watched and high-kaflummoxed!" continued +One-Eye. Round and round rolled that green marble, +gathering fire with each revolution. In fact it looked +to be more fiercely glowing than any two eyes—as single +eyes have the habit of looking.</p> + +<p>Big Tom was beaming at the stranger again, unaware +of One-Eye's temper. "Say, I never had a' idear of meetin' +one of you," he declared heartily, "But I'm glad to, I'll +say that. Yes, sir, I'm glad to! By thunder!" His look +traveled up and down One-Eye, not missing a detail.</p> + +<p>"Look-a-here!" returned One-Eye with insulting coldness. +"This boy's hurt! Hurt <i>bad!</i> Y' savvy? Weak,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a><a href="images/113.png">[113]</a></span> +too—weak's a cat! And sick! Done up! Sore! Wore +<i>out!</i>" He paused, glaring.</p> + +<p>"Boo-hoo!"—Johnnie's heart was wrung by the pitiful +description.</p> + +<p>It was now that something of the effect Johnnie had +pleasantly imagined was finally gained. With a distressful +"Oh!" Cis came to him, while Grandpa began to shrill +"Johnnie! Johnnie!" and tried to get away from Big +Tom, who held back the chair by a wheel as he, too, gave +a thought to the patient.</p> + +<p>"What happened to the kid?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>One-Eye aimed his one orb at Big Tom as if it were a +bullet. "What?" he repeated. "Y' ask, do y'? Wal, it +was a hoss. It was a kick." Then to Johnnie, "Could +y' shift weight, sonny?" (One of the five books was stabbing +One-Eye in the side.)</p> + +<p>"I want t' know!" marveled Big Tom. "Any bones +broke?" He leaned to feel of the unwrapped part of +Johnnie's hurt arm.</p> + +<p>The indifferent tone, the hated, ungentle touch, and the +nearness of the longshoreman, all worked to unman +Johnnie, who gave way again. He did not fear a whipping +any longer. It was, as Mrs. Kukor might have put +it, "somethink yet again." Over him had swept the realization +that soon this kind, free-handed, lovable One-Eye +would be taking his leave, and with him would go—well, +about everything!</p> + +<p>Oh, his dear millionaire! His soul of generosity! The +giver of the best supper ever! A man who could command +such respect that he had struck the whole of the East +Side dumb! The source of one boy's sweet glory!</p> + +<p>And how Johnnie hated the thought of being left behind! +He blamed himself for returning. "O-o-o-o-oh!" +he moaned miserably. How mean and greedy and cruel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a><a href="images/114.png">[114]</a></span> +and awful Big Tom seemed now, measured alongside this +superb stranger!</p> + +<p>Yet what Johnnie did not guess was that Barber was +overjoyed at his return; was more relieved at having an +excuse for not whipping than Johnnie was over not being +whipped, since punishment might decide the latter, on +some future occasion, to stay away. Indeed, Big Tom +had had a scare.</p> + +<p>"Not a bone!" answered One-Eye, almost proudly. +"Neat a kick as ever I seen. Reckon the bucket took +up most of it. But it's bad enough. Yas, ma'am. And +it'll be a week afore he oughta use it."</p> + +<p>"I want my bed!" quavered Johnnie, remembering that +part of the plan.</p> + +<p>Cis brought the bedding, and her own snowy pillow, +fragrant with orris root. As she straightened out the +clothes and plumped the pillow, Big Tom stayed in front +of the visitor, staring as hard as ever, his great underlip +hanging down, and that big nose taking a sidewise dart +every now and then.</p> + +<p>"Well! well! I'm glad y' happened t' bring the kid +home," he began again. "Must be grand country out +where you come from. How far West d' y' live, anyhow? +And I'd like your name."</p> + +<p>"This is Mister One-Eye," introduced Johnnie, his well +arm twined proudly about the stranger's leathery neck. +It was plain that the longshoreman was powerfully impressed. +And Johnnie realized better than ever that he +had brought home a real personage.</p> + +<p>"Yep, call me One-Eye and I'll come," declared the +personage. "But now the bed's ready, sonny." He rose +and gently deposited Johnnie upon the pallet. "Now +keep quiet," he advised kindly, "so's t' git back some +strength." And to Cis, "Reckon we better give him a +swaller o' tea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a><a href="images/115.png">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor, who had been waiting all the while in the +hall, and could stand it no longer, now came rocking in, +her olive face picked out with dimples, it was working so +hard, and all her crinkly hair standing bushily up.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mother?" cried old Grandpa. "Is that +you?"—which misled One-Eye into the belief that here +was another member of the family, one whom Johnnie had +omitted to mention. So the green eye focused upon the +mattress in sorrowful reproof.</p> + +<p>But the next instant a burst of dialect set Johnnie +right in his new friend's eye. "Ach, Chonnie!" cried the +little Jewish lady. "Vot iss? Vot iss?"</p> + +<p>Her concern pleased One-Eye. He sat down, crossed +his knees, and swung a spur.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor had not yet seen him. She had stationed +herself at the foot of Johnnie's bed, from where she looked +down, her birdlike eyes glistening with pity, her head +wagging, her hands now waving, now resting upon a heart +that was greatly affected by the sight of Johnnie in pain.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie, looking up at her, knew that his hurt arm +was not the whole of her grief; knew that she was thinking +how much to blame she was herself for all that had +happened. Guilt was on her round face, and remorse in +her wagging. That book! That <i>Alattin!</i> Ach, that she +had never given him that present. Oy! oy! oy!</p> + +<p>Big Tom was making conversation. "Guess all of you +work pretty hard out where you live," he declared, "—even +if you do jus' set on a horse. But you bet you'd find +my job harder. I tell y', I do my share when it comes to +the heavy work." His tongue pushed out one cheek, then +the other, a habit of his when boasting. "Why, there +ain't a man workin' with me that can do more'n two-thirds +what I do! They all know it, too. 'Barber's the guy +with the cargo-hook,' is what they say. And Furman admits +himself that I'm the only man's that's really earnin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a><a href="images/116.png">[116]</a></span> +that last raise. Yes, sir! 'Tom Barber's steel-constructed,' +is what he tells the boys."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Kukor, still unaware of a strange +presence, had been whispering excitedly with Cis, from +whom she had got the facts concerning the wound. But +even as she had listened, she had been aware that Barber +was talking, quietly, politely, good-naturedly. Surprised, +she came half-about ("goin' exac'ly like a spud with +tooth-pick laigs," as One-Eye said afterwards, though not +unkindly), and took a look in the longshoreman's direction. +And—saw the visitor.</p> + +<p>Her hands dropped, her eyes fixed themselves upon +those fur-faced breeches, her bosom stopped heaving as +she held her breath. Then, "Ach!" she cried. "Could I +believe it if so I did-ent saw it?—Mister Barber, how +comes here a cowpoy?"</p> + +<p><i>A cowboy?</i></p> + +<p>Then it was Johnnie who experienced sensations: Surprise—bewilderment—doubt—staggering +belief—awe—joy—more +joy—pride—triumph!</p> + +<p>He sat up.</p> + +<p>Now he understood why the shaggy breeches had struck +him as somehow familiar. Of course! He had seen just +such a pair pictured on the billboard across from the +millionaire's garage. Now he realized how he had seared +the sight of his enemies as he and the Great One arrived +side by side in a taxicab!—Yet no one must ever know +that he had been in the dark! "Why, yes, Mrs. Kukor!" +he cried. "My goodness! This is a reg'lar one!" (At +which One-Eye colored, blending his bronze with a bashful +purple.)</p> + +<p>"A cowpoy!" whispered Mrs. Kukor, as if in a daze. +"Pos-i-tivvle! Mit furs on hiss pants, und everythink!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a><a href="images/117.png">[117]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>A PRODIGAL PUFFED UP</h3> + + +<p class="cap">LEANING on his well elbow, Johnnie related to Mrs. +Kukor and Cis and Grandpa the whole story of +what had happened to him; and they paid such +rapt attention to him that at the most they did not +interrupt him more than fifteen or twenty times. "And, +oh, didn't everything turn out just fine?" he cried in ending. +"T' be found by a cowboy and fetched home in a' +auto! and—all?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor vowed that she dass-ent to deny how +everytink about it wass both stylish und grand!</p> + +<p>Next, he had to hear what had transpired after his +departure; how every one had taken his going, especially +Big Tom—now gone out to escort One-Eye to the taxi.</p> + +<p>"I tells to him, 'Sure does Chonnie go for sometink'," +declared Mrs. Kukor. But Barber had known better, and +contradicted her violently. "Und so I tells to him over +that, 'Goot! Goot! if he runs away! In dis house so +much, it ain't healthy for him!' Und I shakes my fingers +be-front of hiss big nose!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor had to go then, remembering with a start +that she had a filled fish cooking. She rushed out at a +thumping gallop. Then the whole adventure was told +a second time, Johnnie sitting up with Grandpa's hat +cocked over one eye, and drawling in fine imitation of +their late guest.</p> + +<p>When Barber came back, he was not able to let matters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a><a href="images/118.png">[118]</a></span> +pass without a brief scolding for Johnnie, and a threat. +"Y' go and git yourself laid up," he complained, coming +to stand over the pallet on the floor; "so's you can't do +your work, and earn your keep. Well, a good kick was +the right pay for runnin' away. And now let me tell y' +this, and I mean it: if y' ever run away again, y' won't +git took <i>back</i>. Hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Johnnie, almost carelessly.</p> + +<p>Barber said no more, realizing that if Johnnie could +run away once he could again. Even without grumbling +the longshoreman helped Cis to put the wash to soak in +the round, galvanized tub that stood on its side under the +dish cupboard—a Sunday night duty that was Johnnie's, +and was in preparation for the hated laundry work which +he always did so badly of a Monday.</p> + +<p>Late that night, in the closet-room, with the door shut +and a stub of candle lighted, Johnnie heard Cis's story of +what had happened in the flat following her return from +the factory, her lunch still in its neat camera-box.</p> + +<p>"I—I just couldn't believe it was so!" she whispered, +ready to weep at the mere <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'recollectioin'">recollection</ins> of her shock and +grief. "And, oh, promise me you won't ever go away +again!" she begged, brown head on one side and tears in +her eyes; "and I'll promise never to leave <i>you</i>—never, +never, never, <i>never!</i>"</p> + +<p>Johnnie would not promise. "I'm goin' to be a cowboy," +he declared calmly; "but after I go, why, I'll come +back soon's as I can and take you. And maybe, after +the Prince is married, you'll forget him, and like a cowboy."</p> + +<p>Cis shook her head. Hers was an affection not lightly +bestowed nor easily withdrawn from its dear object. "I +saw HIM go into the Waldorf-Astoria by the floor on the +Thirty-third Street side," she recalled tenderly. Recollec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a><a href="images/119.png">[119]</a></span>tion +brought a sweet, far-away look into those violet-blue +eyes.</p> + +<p>Johnnie took this moment to fish from his shirt his five +books, laying them one by one on the bed-shelf at Cis's +feet, from where she caught up the new ones, marveling +over them.</p> + +<p>"I <i>thought</i> there was something funny about your +looks," she declared. "I kept still, though.—Oh, Johnnie +Smith, have you been robbing somebody?"</p> + +<p>When he had enjoyed her excitement and anxiety to the +full, she was told all about the book shop and the millionaire, +and the lady, and the book with the dollar bill, after +which he again showed those books which he had purchased +with the money.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you silly!" she cried. "You didn't do anything of +the kind! They bought 'em for you—all those nice people!"</p> + +<p>It was hard to convince him, but at last she did, this by +pointing out to him the price marked in each book, a sum +that took his breath away. Three dollars and a half apiece +they were! More than ten altogether! ("Und in kesh-money!" +Mrs. Kukor marveled afterward, when she knew.) +<i>His</i> eyes got a far-away expression as he thought about the +generosity of those strangers. Oh, how good strangers +were to a person! It almost seemed that the less you knew +somebody— But, no, that was not true, because Mrs. +Kukor——</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about Mr. One-Eye," whispered Cis. +"But what a name for a <i>man!</i> He <i>can't</i> be called just +that! How could you write him a letter? Don't you know +the rest of it, Johnnie? It's One-eye What?"</p> + +<p>"Just One-Eye," returned Johnnie. "That's what they +all called him. Maybe cowboys don't have two names like +common men. What's the good of two names, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>Cis was shocked. "Everybody has to have two names,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a><a href="images/120.png">[120]</a></span> +she told him, severely. "The first is yours, and is your +mother's fav'rite, and the other shows who your father is. +Or maybe, if you're a second child, your mother allows +your father to name you. But it's civilized to have two +names, and not a bit nice if you don't—unless you're a dog +or a horse."</p> + +<p>Johnnie lifted an inspired finger, pointing straight at +her. "Everybody?" he asked. "Well, what about the +Prince of Wales? <i>His</i> name is Eddie. Eddie <i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Why—why—" She was confused.</p> + +<p>"Horse or dog!" scoffed Johnnie. "Don't you b'lieve +it? You mean Princes and cowboys!"</p> + +<p>Cis had to admit herself wrong.</p> + +<p>"When I heard One-Eye speak, that first time," he informed +her, "I was afraid he was J. J. Hunter, come for +<i>Aladdin</i>."</p> + +<p>They laughed at that, fairly rocking. After which +they returned to the more personal aspects of One-Eye. +"What makes him keep his hat on?" she wanted to know. +"That isn't good manners at <i>all</i>. I just know the Prince +wouldn't do it. Why, every time I saw the Prince he kept +taking his hat off. My!"</p> + +<p>"Cowboys always keep their hats on," Johnnie asserted +stoutly. "Maybe if they didn't, their horses wouldn't know +'em. Anyhow, they all do. Don't I know? I saw dozens!"</p> + +<p>Well, if they did, then Cis thought them a strange lot. +"And do all of them chew tobacco?" she persisted. "Because +I'm sure <i>he</i> does."</p> + +<p>Johnnie was insulted. He denied anything of the kind. +He grew heated, resenting this criticism of one who held +that cowboys were noble. One-Eye smoked—even when +signs said he might not. And could any man smoke and +chew at the same time? He did not believe it, though he +was willing to admit that if any man <i>could</i> perform these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a><a href="images/121.png">[121]</a></span> +two feats simultaneously, that man was certainly the incomparable +One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, he's awful homely," continued Cis, who could +be as irritating as most girls at times.</p> + +<p>Johnnie rose then, cold and proud. "Honest, Cis, you +make me sick!" he told her. "Homely! Huh!" He would +have liked to cast an aspersion upon a certain Royal +countenance, just to get even, but feared Cis might refuse +to hide his books for him. However, he decided that he +would never again be as nice as formerly to King George's +son. He left the tiny room, nose in air.</p> + +<p>She did not follow him with apologies. And presently +he stole back to her door and moved the knob softly. +"Cis!" he whispered. "What's a vallay?"</p> + +<p>She peeped out. "What's a <i>what?</i>"</p> + +<p>"A v-a-l-l-a-y?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—A valley's a scoopy place between two hills."</p> + +<p>A scoopy place between two hills! How like a girl's +was the answer! Her candle was out, her tone sleepy. He +did not argue. Flat upon his pallet once more, with both +hands under his yellow head, he smiled into the black of +the kitchen, telling himself that he would not change places +with any boy in the whole of the great sleeping city.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a><a href="images/122.png">[122]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>CHANGES</h3> + + +<p class="cap">IT was a blue Monday. In fact, it was the bluest Monday +that Johnnie had ever spent in the flat. The urge +of unrest was upon him. He had been out once, and +far into the great world. And, oh, <i>how</i> he yearned to go +out again! And just wander up Broadway to Fifth Avenue, +the morning sun on his back, and the wind in his hair, +while he gave more strangers an opportunity to do those +pleasant and generous things which it seemed the privilege +of strangers to do. A second trip, and there was no telling +but that he might come back to the flat fairly bowed +under a load of things!</p> + +<p>He took a peep at his books; but he could not settle +down to read. And he was able to get through with a +hasty trip to Chickamauga by forcing himself to be patient +with Grandpa. Also, that morning was a bad one for +millionaires. He called up none of the four. If a millionaire +had chanced by and offered to adopt him, Johnnie +would have said a flat No. Cowboys! Rivals, these were, +of the famous quartette. And the moment Grandpa was +asleep, Johnnie got on the telephone, called up one of the +larger stores, and ordered a complete cowboy outfit—from +hat to spurs. And having received his order with lightning +rapidity, he put it on at once, and began to stride to +and fro, gesturing and talking bad grammar in his best +possible imitation of One-Eye. He ended this fascinating +game by trying to pinch his eye in the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a><a href="images/123.png">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>Naturally the door led to the idea of taking a walk.</p> + +<p>And the walk made him think of the dog. He had seen +a handsome dog while he was riding in the truck—a black +dog with a brown spot over each eye. At once he determined +to have one like it. "Here! Boof! Boof!" he +called. And the dog came to him across the kitchen, wagging +a bushy tail, and was warmly greeted, and fed. A +fine, shining dog collar was then ordered and presented, +after which Johnnie made a hasty toilet by splashing his +face with his well hand and drying it on the cup towel, +and the two started off.</p> + +<p>There was no fire in the stove, and Johnnie told himself +that there was nothing to worry about in leaving +Grandpa behind for a little while. Without haste, this +time, and without even a thought of Big Tom, Johnnie sallied +forth, the dog at his side.</p> + +<p>He had no misgivings as to the treatment he would receive +from the boys of the neighborhood. The question +of his social standing had been settled. He even got ready +to whistle a tune, so that if any boy's back was turned, +and there was danger of Johnnie's not being seen, he could +call attention to himself—he, the intimate friend of a real +cowboy.</p> + +<p>But every one saw him. That was because he took his +time. On the other hand, he saw no one; but paid the +closest attention to signs, and windows, to carts, and the +contents of shops, and he halted to pet an occasional horse, +or to shy a bit of brick at a water plug. Thus he traveled +the four sides of his block. Whenever he met boys, +they were too impressed to be saucy. He sauntered past +them, his hands in his big pockets, his chin in the air.</p> + +<p>"Well, y' see how it is," he observed to Boof as they +turned homeward. And he swaggered.</p> + +<p>Back in his area, he found a small gathering—several +children, a few women, and one old man. He blushed out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a><a href="images/124.png">[124]</a></span> +of sheer happiness, believing them to be drawn up to see +the Friend of a Cowboy pass in. And he climbed the +stairs, whistling as he went, and smiling to himself in the +dusk of the poorly lighted halls.</p> + +<p>Entering the flat, he found One-Eye. At first he could +not trust his eyes, for his new dog had followed in, and +was wagging a black tail, and he could see the dog as +plainly as he could see his friend. But noting that Grandpa +was playing with a red apple, he knew that the cowboy +was really there.</p> + +<p>So that was why there had been a crowd in the area!</p> + +<p>But he did not rush to One-Eye. For some reason or +other his feet were stone, and he felt shame—and guilt. +He said a low-spoken Hello!</p> + +<p>There was no warmth in One-Eye's greeting, either. +"Knocked," informed the Westerner. "Got no answer. +Then I heard the ole gent kinda whinin', and so I come in." +While he talked, that single green eye was peering out of +the kitchen window. The tanned face wore a curious, stern +look.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Johnnie, swallowing. "He always is +like that if I go out t' walk a little." His heart was sorer +than ever. He felt helpless, and forlorn. A wall had risen +between himself and his wonderful friend. And he wished +that One-Eye would burst out at him as Barber would +have done, and give him a piece of his mind—oh, anything +but this manner so polite yet so full of cool displeasure!</p> + +<p>However, One-Eye had a second apple, which he presented +to Johnnie, and this helped to clear the air. And +the latter, hoping to win back One-Eye's good opinion, +wiped off a table knife, halved the apple, and scraped it, +giving the juicy scrapings to the toothless old soldier.</p> + +<p>At once One-Eye became less absent-minded. "Wal, +how's the arm?" he asked. "The boys tole me t' shore +find out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a><a href="images/125.png">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, it hurts a little," declared Johnnie, "but I don't +mind. Say, how's the cross horse?" One half of the apple +scraped, Johnnie ate the red shell of it. "And have y' been +to the rest'rant again? And I s'pose all them white-dressed +men and ladies, they can eat all they want to of ev'ry kind +of de-<i>licious</i> things!"</p> + +<p>One-Eye 'lowed they could. That lone orb of his was +roving about the flat as if he was looking for some one. +And presently, clearing his throat, "The young lady, she +don't seem t' be at home," he observed, with studied carelessness.</p> + +<p>"Not till six," reminded Johnnie. "She works."</p> + +<p>It was then that One-Eye drew from a pocket +under those furry trousers a third, and a mammoth, apple. +"Wal, when she comes," he suggested, "y' might jes' give +her this."</p> + +<p>"Oh, gee!" cried Johnnie. It was the largest apple he +had ever seen. "She'll like it. And she thinks you're +grand!"</p> + +<p>This proved to be such a master stroke of diplomacy +as Johnnie had not imagined. One-Eye glowed under the +compliment, and went various shades of red, and blew +smoke from his cigar furiously. Now the last trace of +hardness went from the weathered countenance, the drooping +mustache lifted to show toothy gaps, and even the +marble of that eye softened. "Now, say!" exclaimed the +cowboy. "Y' ain't stringin' me, are y'? She said that? +Wal, this world is a shore funny place! Right funny! +Jes' recent I paid a lady here in town six-bits t' read the +trails in my hands. And she tole me, 'Y're going t' meet +a high-toned gal.' And now——!"</p> + +<p>He said no more after that, only smoked, and stared +at Johnnie's sky patch, and twiddled a spurred boot. The +cigar finished, he rose and shook hands solemnly, first with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a><a href="images/126.png">[126]</a></span> +Grandpa, who giggled like a delighted child; then with a +somewhat subdued Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"My!" breathed the latter as the clump, clump of the +spurred boots died away on the stairs. He felt more +regret and sorrow over being found lacking by One-Eye +than ever he had felt over a similar discovery made by Big +Tom. He realized that he would do more to win just the +smile of the one than he would to miss the punishment of +the other. And there was a sting in his little interior, as +if some one had thrust a needle into him, and left a sore +spot; or as if he had swallowed a crust or a codfish bone, +and it had lodged somewhere.</p> + +<p>He gave over thinking about wearing a cattleman's outfit, +and began once more to turn his thoughts inward upon +the flat. He sought out <i>Aladdin</i> from the precious pile +of books and opened it at the page he had been reading +when One-Eye's voice had fallen for the first time upon his +ears. And at once he was again living with the Chinese +boy that story of stories.</p> + +<p>The day sped. Whenever Grandpa interrupted him, +Johnnie would go to look at Cis's apple. He would take +it up, and turn it, and smell it. He looked at it affectionately, +remembering who had bought it, had had it in his +hands, and carried it. It brought that dear one close.</p> + +<p>"Good One-Eye!" murmured Johnnie, and first making +certain that even Grandpa was not watching, he laid the +apple against one of his pale cheeks. Somehow it comforted +him. He pictured Cis's surprise and joy when, +having been told to shut her eyes and put out her hands, +she would see the crimson-skinned gift.</p> + +<p>About this he received a cruel shock. For when Cis +came slipping in, with an anxious look around, as if she +feared Johnnie might not be there, and had gone through +the—to her—annoying preliminary of shut eyes and outstretched +palms, there was plain disappointment on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a><a href="images/127.png">[127]</a></span> +face as she saw what Johnnie had to give her. And when +he told her whose gift it was, far from changing her attitude, +and showing the pride he expected, what she did was +to burst into peals of laughter!</p> + +<p>It was like a slap in the face. He stared at her, not +able to comprehend how she could belittle a present from +such a source. And all at once he felt himself more in +sympathy with Big Tom than he did with her, for Big Tom +at least held One-Eye in high honor, and considered his +visit to the flat a compliment.</p> + +<p>Now she added insult to injury. "What a funny thing +to give a girl!" she cried. Then daintily taking a whiff +of the fruit, "But then it'll scent up my box fine." She +went to tuck it among her belongings.</p> + +<p>Not a word of gratitude! And she was crossness itself +when, her dress changed, she sallied forth to set to work +on the wash. That this task had something to do with +her lack of sweet temper never occurred to Johnnie, whose +opinion of girls had received another setback. As he +watched her drag forward the tub and fall to rubbing, he +half-way made up his mind to wait his chance, take the +apple out of that old box, and eat it! He sat at the window, +counting the stars as they came into his rectangle of +faded blue, and was glad that he now had a dog. A girl +around the house was so unsatisfactory!</p> + +<p>Next day, with Cis's wash swinging overhead in a long, +white line, he finished <i>Aladdin</i> and took up <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>. +And with the new book there opened to him still another +life. Swiftly the palaces of Cathay melted away. +And Johnnie, in company with several fighting men, was +pacing the deck of a storm-tossed ship, with a savage-infested +shore to lee. Gun in hand, he peered across the +waves to a spit of sand upon which black devils danced.</p> + +<p>By nightfall, what with fast reading, and by skipping +many a paragraph which was pure description, the oil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a><a href="images/128.png">[128]</a></span>cloth +table was a lonely island inhabited by no human being, +the morris chair was the good ship stranded, with all +on board lost except Crusoe and Johnnie, who, while the +seas dashed over them, roaring, breathlessly salvaged for +their future use (Johnnie's hurt arm was out of its sling +all this time) the mixed contents of the kitchen cupboard.</p> + +<p>Big Tom interrupted this saving of provender. And +Crusoe's friend was curtly ordered to wash some potatoes +for supper, and lay the plates, and not leave everything for +Cis to do. The order was accompanied by that warning +flash of white in Barber's left eye. It brought to an end +Johnnie's period of convalescence.</p> + +<p>That night he did more pondering as he lay on his mattress +beside the cookstove, his eyes looking far away to the +three stars framed by the window sash, and the dog asleep +at his side. He had always done much thinking, being +compelled to it by loneliness. Now he took stock of himself, +and came to the conclusion that he was not like other +boys.</p> + +<p>Being the only blond-haired boy in the area building +had something to do with it. Having to do housework +had more. Then he had none of the possessions which the +other boys of his own age treasured—bats, and balls, +"scooters," roller skates, yes, even water pistols.</p> + +<p>Being different from other boys, he could not, he decided, +do as they did. They had freedom: he was shut in. +Once he had thought that this shut-in condition was due +to the strange views of Big Tom. But now, all at once, he +realized that One-Eye agreed with the longshoreman. +So did the Chinese tailor, Mustapha!</p> + +<p>He made up his mind that hereafter he would stay close +to home.</p> + +<p>He spent nearly the whole of the next day most contentedly +with Robinson Crusoe. It was ironing day, but +when he had finished the small pieces, Mrs. Kukor took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a><a href="images/129.png">[129]</a></span> +the rest upstairs. Then Johnnie, dressed from head to +toe in peltry, moored at his elbow that lonely isle. And +for him the wrecked ship gave up the last of its stores, +cannibals danced, beacons were lighted, stockades built, +and there swept in upon that East Side kitchen a breeze +that was off the Southern Seas.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the evening meal a night or two later, +One-Eye knocked, finding Johnnie up to his elbows in the +dishpan, while Barber smoked and Cis dried the supper +plates. The cowboy seemed much embarrassed just at +first, and avoided Cis's smiling look as she thanked him +for the apple. Her little speech over, however, he soon +warmed into quite a jovial mood.</p> + +<p>"Jes' had t' see sonny, here, t'night," he declared. "Y' +know it's so seldom a feller meets up with a kid that's +worth botherin' about. Now this one strikes me as a first-class +boy"—praise that instantly and completely wiped +out that hurt somewhere in Johnnie's interior.</p> + +<p>One-Eye had not come empty-handed. He had cigars +for Big Tom, a paper bag of pears for every one, and a +carefully wrapped box tied with glistening string which +turned out to be candy. As a chorus of delight greeted +all these gifts, he became by turns the leathery saffron +which, for him, was paleness, and the dark reddish-purple +that made onlookers always believe that he was holding his +breath. "Aw, shucks!" he cried to the thanks. "It ain't +nuthin'. Don't mention it. It's all right. <i>Eat!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then happened the almost unbelievable: Big Tom, who +never made visitors welcome, and never wasted kerosene, +actually lifted down the lamp and lighted it, and would +not hear of One-Eye's taking an early departure. The +cowboy's importance was making him welcome; also, his +gifts. For greed was the keynote of Barber's character. +The latter haw-hawed at everything One-Eye said. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a><a href="images/130.png">[130]</a></span> +Johnnie gazed in amazement at the unusual spectacle of +Big Tom's face wrinkled by laughter.</p> + +<p>He talked about himself. He had been moving barrels +all day; doing prodigious things. Furman had all but +fallen dead when he surveyed what that one pair of hands +had accomplished. "And he bet me I couldn't take up two +barrels at a time," he boasted. Then pushing out his +cheeks, "But say! It was duck-soup!"</p> + +<p>"Barrels of duck-soup?" One-Eye wanted to know. And +the kitchen resounded with such unwonted laughter that a +window or two went up outside, to right or left, some +neighbor thinking a row was under way.</p> + +<p>Hearing the noise, Barber stalked to his own window, +flung it high, leaned out, and glared about. The other +windows went down then, and Big Tom slammed his own +shut, begrudging any family in the building the sound of +One-Eye's voice. "That Gamboni!" he growled. "Can't +mind his business t' save his life! But you bet he didn't +open his mouth when he seen me lookin'! No, sir! They +all shut up their sass when they spy yours truly! Ha-ha-a-a-a! +I could break 'em in two!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie felt a chill travel down his spine. He compared +One-Eye to his foster father again. Oh, what +would have happened if these two had not met on friendly +terms? had on his account come to blows? How would it +have fared with the cowboy in the grasp of those hands +which were steel-constructed?</p> + +<p>"Y' look consider'ble strong," admitted One-Eye, rolling +the green marble the length of Barber appraisingly. +"But I ain't such a slouch myself. Can throw my steer +yet, slick as that!" Which was going far for One-Eye in +the boasting line.</p> + +<p>He came to the flat often after that—and never again +found Johnnie away, though occasionally Big Tom was. +He always brought cigars for the longshoreman, and fruit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a><a href="images/131.png">[131]</a></span> +or candy, or both, for the others. He never had a great +deal to say, but being something more than a common +man, he would dry dishes if there were dishes to dry, or +help split kindling for the morning fire; and once he +scrubbed the sink.</p> + +<p>If he said little, nevertheless he inspired others to talk. +For some reason he was anxious to get from Johnnie the +story of the boy's past life, which was not so complete as +One-Eye would have liked, since Johnnie had forgotten the +surname of his Aunt Sophie. He remembered her as a +tall woman with big teeth and too much chin who wore +plaid-gingham wrappers and pinched his nose when she +applied a handkerchief to him.</p> + +<p>He remembered Aunt Sophie's living rooms above the +rich man's garage—rooms warm, clean, and brightly +lighted, with pictures, and crisp curtains, and a thick, +rose-patterned rug in the parlor. In her kitchen was a +great cookstove called "The Black Diamond," which +seemed like some live thing, for it had four claw-shaped +feet, and seven isinglass eyes ranged in a blazing row upon +a flat face. Under the eyes were toothlike bars forming +a grate. These seemed always to be grinning hotly. Often +when the stove was fed with the ebony lumps that Aunt +Sophie said it loved, its burning breath was delicious. +Then Johnnie's aunt, half doubled above it, drew out of +it rich, brown roasts, and pies that oozed nectar; or ladled +up fragrant soups and golden doughnuts.</p> + +<p>Johnnie described how grandly he had lived at Aunt +Sophie's. He had slept in soft, white night clothes. Always, +when he waked, Aunt Sophie had pulled him out of +these and dropped him into a big tub of warm water, then +rubbed him pink with a large, shaggy towel. Sometimes +Uncle Albert took him for a run in one of the millionaire's +huge, glistening cars.</p> + +<p>His last memory of the garage had to do with the clang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a><a href="images/132.png">[132]</a></span>ing +ambulance that took Aunt Sophie to the hospital. +Johnnie never saw her again, for she died there; and it was +after her death that Tom Barber clambered up the +straight, steep flight of stairs that led from the street +door. When he went down it, Johnnie was with him, clinging +to one of Big Tom's thumbs.</p> + +<p>"Then I reckon Mister Barber's a relative," said One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"Only by marriage," declared Cis. She was certain of +that.</p> + +<p>"But why'd he bother takin' a kid that is no relation?" +persisted the Westerner.</p> + +<p>Cis smiled wisely. "Work," she answered laconically.</p> + +<p>One-Eye understood. "And who was the rich gent?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Johnnie could not remember the name. "But once," he +told proudly, "he left a' orange for me, and I used it like +a ball till the skin busted."</p> + +<p>"Y' know what street that was on, don't y'?" inquired +the cowboy.</p> + +<p>Yes, Johnnie knew that. The street was West Fifty-fifth.</p> + +<p>"And what about your mother?" One-Eye wanted to +know.</p> + +<p>"Well, I had one—once," declared Johnnie. "I'm sure +of that. And she's dead." Also at one time he had possessed +a father, who was dead, too. "My father and my +mother," he informed the cowboy, "died the same day."</p> + +<p>That single eye opened wide at this news. "The same +day?" One-Eye demanded.</p> + +<p>"Drownded," said Johnnie. Though how and where he +could not tell, and did not even know his father's name, +which Cis felt sure was not Smith.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much!" remarked their visitor, wisely. +"And what about <i>your</i> Paw and Maw?" he inquired of Cis,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a><a href="images/133.png">[133]</a></span> +who knew names and dates and facts about her parents, +but was completely in the dark as to the whereabouts of +any living kinspeople. She had lived in a flat in the next +block till her father died. When her mother married Tom +Barber, she had moved out of her birthplace and into the +area building. And that was all there was to tell, except +that her own full name was Narcissa Amy Way.</p> + +<p>"Cute!" declared One-Eye, going a beet-red.</p> + +<p>"Have <i>you</i> got a mother?" asked Cis.</p> + +<p>"Both dead," answered One-Eye, knowing that the two +would understand what he meant.</p> + +<p>"Three orphans," returned Cis. The blue eyes misted, +and the pointed, pink chin quivered. And the others knew +what <i>she</i> meant.</p> + +<p>Indeed, at the sight of her brimming eyes One-Eye felt +so keenly that, without warning, he put his head back in +a most surprising fashion, opened his mouth, shut that one +eye, and broke into a strange plaint. The others concluded +that One-Eye was making a curious, hoarse noise +ceilingward for some reason. Presently, however, Cis +made out that the noise was a tune: a tune weird but soul-stirring. +Music, as Cis could see, was One-Eye's medium +of expressing his emotions. And then and there it became +her firm conviction that he was bearing a great and secret +sorrow.</p> + +<p>It was Johnnie who first learned the words of the tune. +And when he could repeat them to Cis, both realized how +appropriate they had been under the circumstances, for +they ran:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, blame me not for weepin',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Oh, blame me not, I say!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For I have a' angel mother,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ten thousand miles away!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Having got to the end of a verse, One-Eye sat up, smiled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a><a href="images/134.png">[134]</a></span> +feebly, darted a bashful glance at Cis, and went on with +his questions. "What was Uncle Albert's name?" he +wanted to know.</p> + +<p>But as Johnnie could not remember Aunt Sophie's name, +naturally enough he could not remember his Uncle Albert's, +both names being one and the same. His Uncle was +a figure that this small nephew had greatly admired—straight, +be-capped like a soldier, and soldierly, too, in +his smart, dark livery.</p> + +<p>"They's somethin' mysterious about the hull proposition!" +pronounced One-Eye.</p> + +<p>That night when One-Eye was about to leave, he asked +Cis what he might buy her for Christmas. Cis was shy +about answering, and declared that he need not buy her +anything: he had bought her so much candy, and that was +enough—more than enough. But One-Eye pressed the +question. "Aw, name somethin'!" he pleaded. "Can't y' +think of a pritty that y'd like awful?"</p> + +<p>Cis thought. And having taken some time to turn the +suggestion over, while One-Eye watched her, and Johnnie +mentally made up a long list of possible gifts, "I'd like +very much," she faltered, "if I could have a nice doll."</p> + +<p>What was there about the request that seemed to stagger +One-Eye? Looking at him, Johnnie saw that big +Adam's-apple move convulsively, while the green eye swam, +and the lantern jaw fell. "A—a doll?" the cowboy repeated +feebly.</p> + +<p>Cis knew that somehow she had said the wrong thing, +and hastened to ease the situation. "Oh, just a teeny, +weeny one," she compromised. "You see, Mr. One-Eye, +I've never had but one, and I thought before I got <i>too</i> big—because +I've seen small dolls that were so sweet!—and +I—and I——"</p> + +<p>But there she stopped, blushing painfully. To cover +her embarrassment, she dashed into her closet room and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a><a href="images/135.png">[135]</a></span> +brought out Letitia, ragged dress and all, as if the sight +of the poor beloved would speak for her more eloquently +than she could for herself.</p> + +<p>Which proved to be the case. For One-Eye stared at +Letitia till that single eye fairly bored through her sawdust +frame. Next he took her up and turned her about, +his lips shut tight. His mustache stood up, he gulped, +and his hand trembled.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he rose. "Got t' go," he announced.</p> + +<p>He went. He forgot to shake hands. He pulled the +big hat far down across his forehead. He stubbed his toe +on the doorsill.</p> + +<p>Cis and Johnnie hung out of the window a long time +after, talking low together, so as not to be overheard by +the Gambonis, for the early December night was surprisingly +warm, and the building had all its windows up. They +speculated upon One-Eye's conduct. Johnnie was distressed—and +on two scores: first, that One-Eye should +have gone so abruptly; second, that Cis, when given a +chance to ask for something, had not named a gift worth +having, such as another book.</p> + +<p>"But you've got more books now than you've had time +to read!" she protested. "And anyhow One-Eye is sure to +give you a Christmas present." She was not cast down, +but smiled at the sky, and talked of the new doll, which she +intended to name—Edwarda.</p> + +<p>"Should think you'd name her after One-Eye," went on +Johnnie; "long's he's givin' her to you."</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> could I name her after him?" she retorted. +"What would I call her?—Two-Eyes? I'm not going to +spoil her by giving her a crazy name." Eager to have her +dreams to herself, she forsook the window for her own +room, and shut the door.</p> + +<p>The next morning, while Johnnie and Grandpa were returning +from the field of Gettysburg, here, ascending from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a><a href="images/136.png">[136]</a></span> +the area came the shrill voice of the Italian janitress: +"Johnnie Smith! Johnnie Smith!"</p> + +<p>That meant the postman. And the postman was an +event, for he came not oftener than once in three months, +this to fetch a long, official envelope that had to do with +Grandpa's pension. But the pension was not due again +for several weeks. So what did the postman have to +leave?</p> + +<p>Bursting with curiosity, excitement and importance, +Johnnie very nearly broke his neck between his own door +and the brick pave. And here was a letter addressed +to himself: Johnnie Smith, in Mr. Thos. Barber's flat. +Then the street and the number, the whole having been +written on a typewriter.</p> + +<p>"Why—! Why—! Who can it be from?" Johnnie +muttered, turning the letter over and over, while heads +popped out of windows, and sundry small fry gathered +about Johnnie and the postman.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd find out if you opened it," suggested the +latter, who was curious himself.</p> + +<p>Johnnie opened; and drew forth a single large page, +white and neat, when it was unfolded. Upon it was written +a short, polite note which read:</p> + +<p>"<i>Dear Johnnie, I'm going away for a few days. Cannot +tell just when I shall be back. Take care of yourself. +Yours very respectfully,—</i>" Here One-Eye had signed his +name.</p> + +<p>The signature was hard to make out. Not only because +it was badly written but because there was something the +matter with Johnnie's eyes. "One-Eye's goin' away," he +told the postman, not ashamed of the tears he wiped on +the back of a hand. "Oh, my goodness!" He climbed the +stairs with his square little chin on his breast.</p> + +<p>Cis made him feel worse when she came home. Because +instead of being equally cast down, she was full of criti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a><a href="images/137.png">[137]</a></span>cism. +"My! One-Eye never wrote that!" she declared. +"A stenographer fixed that all up for him. Sure as you +live."</p> + +<p>This was too much. Johnnie jerked the letter out of +her hand. He caught up Letitia by one dwindling arm and +cast her headforemost into Cis's room. And there is no +telling what else might not have happened if, at that moment, +the janitress had not begun to call again, though +this time it was Cis she wanted. And what she had for Cis +was a heavy pasteboard box that was nearly as long as +the table. In the box, wearing a truly gorgeous dress and +hat and shoes, was—Edwarda.</p> + +<p>"A Princess of a doll!" cried Cis, dancing with happiness.</p> + +<p>Later on, when she had put Edwarda to bed for at least +the tenth time, she came to comfort Johnnie. "Never +mind," she said, "he'll be back. And while he's gone, you +can play he's here." Then with a far-away look in her +blue eyes, "What would <i>I</i> do if I didn't pretend <i>HE</i> was +here!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie groaned. The idea of her bringing up the +Prince in the face of such grief as his! It made him sick. +He pinned the letter inside his shirt. He dragged out the +mattress and flung himself down. He would not let her +light the lamp. He yearned for the dark, where he could +hide his tears.</p> + +<p>Oh, everything was swept away! Everything!</p> + +<p>And even the dog, crowding close against him comfortingly, +could not lessen his pain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a><a href="images/138.png">[138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE HEAVEN THAT NEARLY HAPPENED</h3> + + +<p class="cap">JANUARY came in furiously, peppering with sleet, +bombarding with hail, storming with snow-laden +winds. Day after day the sun refused to show himself, +and the kitchen was so dark that, whenever work had +to be done, the lamp was lighted.</p> + +<p>In such weather Johnnie was cut off from the outside +world; was almost like another Crusoe. Having no shoes +and no overcoat, he would not venture out for a walk +with his dog. Fuel was so costly that he could not even +open the window to take his taste of the outdoors. His +feet were wrapped up in bits of blanket, and his thin arms +were covered by footless, old stockings of Cis's, which he +drew on of a morning, keeping them up by pinning them +to the stubby sleeves of the big shirt.</p> + +<p>Many a day Big Tom stayed at home, dozing away the +time on his bed. Such days were trying ones for Johnnie. +Seated at the kitchen table, his large hands blue with +the cold, hour upon hour he twisted cotton petals on wire +stems to make violets—virtually acres of them, which he +fashioned in skillful imitation, though he had never seen a +violet grow. Violet-making tired him, and often he had a +stabbing pain between his shoulder blades.</p> + +<p>But when Barber was away, the gloomiest hours passed +happily enough. He would finish his housework early, if +none too well, scatter the oilcloth with petals and stems, +as if this task were going forward, then pull the table<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a><a href="images/139.png">[139]</a></span> +drawer part way out, lay his open book in it, and read. It +was <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i> which claimed all of his interest +during the first month of that year. And what the +weather was outside mattered not a jot to him. He was +threading the woods of spring with Cora and Alice, Uncas +and Heyward.</p> + +<p>It was later on, during February, when <i>The Legends of +King Arthur</i> were uppermost in Johnnie's mind, that the +flat had a mysterious caller, this a bald-headed, stocky +man wearing a hard black hat, a gray woolly storm coat, +and overshoes. "You Johnnie Smith?" he asked when the +door was opened to his knock.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The man came in, sat without waiting to be asked, and +looked around him with a severe eye. Johnnie was delighted +at this unusual interruption. But Grandpa was +scared, and got behind Johnnie. "Is that the General?" +he wanted to know, whispering. "Is that the General?"</p> + +<p>"Is your father home?" asked the strange man finally.</p> + +<p>"My father's dead," replied Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Ah. Then Mr. Barber's your uncle, eh?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't no relation," declared Johnnie, proudly.</p> + +<p>The clock alarm announced the hour of five. Johnnie +fed the fire and put the supper over. Still the man stayed. +Once he got up and walked about, stared into the blackness +of Big Tom's bedroom, and held the lamp so that he +might have a look at Cis's closet. He grumbled to himself +when he put the lamp down.</p> + +<p>All this made Johnnie uneasy. He could think of only +one reason for such strange and suspicious conduct. The +books! Could <i>this</i> by any chance be Mr. J. J. Hunter?</p> + +<p>When Barber came in, it was plain to Johnnie that the +longshoreman knew instantly why the man had come. At +least he showed no surprise at seeing him there. Also, he +was indifferent—even amused. After nodding to the visi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a><a href="images/140.png">[140]</a></span>tor, +and flashing at him that dangerous white spot, he sat +and pushed at first one cheek and then the other with his +tongue.</p> + +<p>"My name's Maloney," began the man, using a severe +tone. "I'm here about this boy."</p> + +<p>Johnnie started. The man's visit concerned himself! +He felt sure now that it was about the book. He wondered +if there would be a search.</p> + +<p>Barber thrust out his lip. "You're a long time gittin' +here," he returned impudently. And laughed.</p> + +<p>At that the man seemed less sure of himself. "Don't +know how I've missed him," he declared, as if troubled.</p> + +<p>"Seein' he's been right here in this flat for five years," +said the other, sneeringly.</p> + +<p>Maloney rose, and Johnnie saw that he was angry. +"You know the law!" he asserted. "This boy ought to be +in school!"</p> + +<p>School! Johnnie caught his breath. Mr. Maloney was +here to help him! Had not Cis declared over and over +that some day Big Tom would be arrested for keeping +Johnnie home from public school? Mrs. Kukor had +agreed. And now this was going to happen! And, oh, +school would be Heaven!</p> + +<p>"Sure," assented Big Tom, smoothly. "But who's goin' +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 't'send'">t' send</ins> him? 'Cause I don't have t' do <i>anything</i> for him."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to appear before a magistrate," declared +the other. "For I'm going to enter a complaint."</p> + +<p>Barber began to swell. With a curse, he rose and faced +Maloney. "Look here!" he said roughly. "This kid is +nothin' t' me. I fetched him here when his aunt died. I +didn't have t'. But if I hadn't, he'd 've starved, and slept +in the streets, or been a cost t' the city. Well, he's been +a cost t' me—git that, Mister Maloney? T' <i>me!</i> A poor +man! I've fed him, and give him a place t' sleep—instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a><a href="images/141.png">[141]</a></span> +of takin' in roomers, like the rest of the guys do in this +buildin'."</p> + +<p>Again the man looked about him. "Roomers?" he repeated. +"Why, there's no ventilation here, and you get +no sun. This flat is unfit to live in!"</p> + +<p>"You tell that t' the landlord!" cried Big Tom, his chest +heaving. "He makes me pay good rent for it, even if it +<i>ain't</i> fit t' live in!"</p> + +<p>Maloney shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know all about your city rules," went on +the longshoreman. "But the Dagoes in this tenement pack +their flats full. I don't. Jus' the boy sleeps in this +kitchen. And if it wasn't for me, where'd he be right now? +Out in the snow?"</p> + +<p>Maloney shrugged, sat down, and leaned back, thinking. +And in the pause Johnnie thought of several matters. For +one thing, now he had a new way of considering his being +in the flat. Sure enough, if Barber had not fed and housed +him where would he have been? With Uncle Albert? But +Uncle Albert had never come down to see him; had not—as +Big Tom had often taken the pains to point out—even +written Johnnie a postcard. Now the boy suddenly found +himself grateful to Barber.</p> + +<p>Mr. Maloney's manner had lost much of its assurance. +"But the boy must be taught something," he declared. +"He's ignorant!"</p> + +<p>Ignorant! Johnnie rose, scarcely able to keep back a +protest.</p> + +<p>Barber whirled round upon him. "Ignorant!" he cried. +"Y' hear that, Johnnie? This gent thinks you don't know +nothin'!—That's where you're off, Maloney!—Johnnie, +suppose you read for him. Ha? Just show him how +ignorant y' are!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie made an involuntary start toward the drawer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a><a href="images/142.png">[142]</a></span> +of the table, remembered, and stopped. "What—what'll +I read?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The man looked around. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. +"What'll he read? What have you got in this flat <i>for</i> +him to read? Where's your books? or papers? or magazines? +You haven't a scrap of printed matter, as far as +I can see."</p> + +<p>"Give us that paper out of your overcoat," suggested +Big Tom, ignoring what the other had said. "Let the kid +read from it."</p> + +<p>As Johnnie took the paper, he was almost as put out at +the man as was Barber. "I've read ever since I was a +baby," he declared. "Aunt Sophie, she used to give me +lessons." Then he read, easily, smoothly, pausing at commas, +stopping at periods, pronouncing even the biggest +words correctly.</p> + +<p>"All right," interrupted Maloney, after a few paragraphs. +"That'll do. You read first rate—first rate."</p> + +<p>"And I know dec'mals," boasted Johnnie; "and fractions. +And I can spell ev'ry word that was in Cis's spellin' +book." Yes, and he knew much more that he dared not +confess in the hearing of Barber. He longed to discourse +about his five books, and all the wonderful people in them, +and to say something about the "thinks" he could do.</p> + +<p>"There y' are!" exclaimed the longshoreman, triumphant. +"There y' are! D' y' call that ignorant? for a ten-year-old +boy?"</p> + +<p>Maloney looked across at Johnnie and smiled. "He's a +<i>mighty</i> smart lad!" he admitted warmly.</p> + +<p>"Knows twice as much as most boys of his age," went +on Barber. (He had come to this conclusion, however, in +the past five minutes.) "And all he knows is good. He +behaves himself pretty fair, too, and I don't have much +trouble with him t' speak of. So he's welcome t' stay on +far's <i>he's</i> concerned. But"—his voice hardened, his nose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a><a href="images/143.png">[143]</a></span> +darted sidewise menacingly—"if <i>you</i> stick your finger in +this pie, and drag me up in front of a Court, I'm goin' t' +tell y' what'll come of it, and I mean just what I say: I'll +set the kid outside that door,"—indicating the one leading +to the hall, "and the city can board and bed him. Jus' +put <i>that</i> in your pipe and smoke it!"</p> + +<p>Evidently Mr. Maloney did not smoke, for though Johnnie +watched the visitor closely, the latter drew out no pipe. +"Wouldn't know where I could send him," he confessed, +but as if to himself rather than to Big Tom; "not just +now, anyhow. But"—suddenly brightening—"what about +night school?"</p> + +<p>"Have him chasin' out o' <i>nights?</i>" cried Barber, scandalized. +"Comin' in all hours off the <i>street?</i> I guess <i>not!</i> +So if you and your Court want this kid t' go t' night +school, out he gits from <i>here</i>. And that's my last word." +He sat down.</p> + +<p>Mr. Maloney got up, a worried expression on his face. +"I'll have to let the matter stand as it is for a while," he +admitted quietly. "This year the city's got more public +charges than it knows what to do with—so many men out +of work, and so much sickness these last months. And as +you say, the boy isn't ignorant."</p> + +<p>When he went, he left the paper behind; and that evening +Johnnie read it from the first page to the last, advertisements +and all. Big Tom saw him poring over it, but +said nothing (the boy's reading on the sly had proved a +good thing for the longshoreman). Johnnie, realizing that +he was seen, but that his foster father did not roar an +objection, or jerk the paper from his hands, or blow out +the light, was grateful, and felt suddenly less independent.</p> + +<p>But what he did not realize was that, by reading as well +as he had, he had hurt his own chances of being sent to +public school.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a><a href="images/144.png">[144]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>SCOUTS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">WHEN, toward the latter part of March, the days +were so warm that Johnnie was able once more +to take short, daily walks, he never went without +bringing home a box to split up for kindling. The box was +an excuse. And he wanted the excuse, not to ease his conscience +about leaving Grandpa alone, but to save himself +should Big Tom happen home and find him gone.</p> + +<p>So far as Grandpa was concerned, the feeble veteran +scarcely seemed to know any more whether he was alone +or not, there being small difference between the flat without +Johnnie and the flat with Johnnie if Johnnie had a book. +But also Grandpa always had some one else with him now—some +one who comforted his old heart greatly. This +was Letitia.</p> + +<p>Grandpa had always shown much fondness for the old +doll. And one day—soon after Cis received the new one—when +Johnnie chanced to give Letitia into the hands of the +old man, the latter was so happy that Johnnie had not +taken Letitia away, and Cis had not. Instead, she gave +the old doll to Grandpa. And so it came about that Letitia +shared the wheel chair, where she lay in the crook of +Grandpa's left arm like a limp infant (she was shedding +sawdust at a dreadful rate, what with the neglect she was +suffering of late), while her poor eyes fixed themselves on +distance.</p> + +<p>"She don't look like she's happy," Johnnie had declared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a><a href="images/145.png">[145]</a></span> +to Cis more than once. "She looks like she's just standin' +it."</p> + +<p>"Why, Johnnie!" Cis had reproved, "And here you've +always said that <i>I</i> was silly about her!"</p> + +<p>"Who's silly?" Johnnie had demanded, defensive, and +blushing furiously.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa's tickled to have her," Cis had continued.</p> + +<p>There the matter was dropped. Nevertheless, Johnnie +had then formed a certain firm conviction, which he continued +to hold. It was that Cis was lacking in loyalty to +the old doll (forgetting that only recently he had hurled +Letitia headfirst into the tiny room).</p> + +<p>By the end of March Johnnie had begun to fret about +One-Eye. He missed the cowboy sadly; and what made +the latter's absence seem all the harder to bear was the +belief that his friend was back in New York again, yet was +not visiting the flat because he was, for some reason, displeased. +With Cis?—about that new doll—or what?</p> + +<p>"He's mad about somethin',"—Johnnie vowed it over +and over. "He said he'd be gone a few days. But that +was <i>months</i> ago."</p> + +<p>Cis denied that she had anything to do with One-Eye's +staying away. She missed him, too; or, rather, she felt +the loss of those almost nightly gifts of fruit and sweets. +As for Barber, he had no more good cigars to smoke before +his fellow longshoremen. And his lunch pail lacked +oranges and bananas at noontime, and had to be filled with +prunes. Altogether, the cowboy's failure to return worked +a general hardship.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why don't he write me again?" mourned Johnnie. +These days he secretly enjoyed any glimpse of Edwarda, +and would even steal into Cis's room sometimes to peep at +her. She made him feel sure that One-Eye had really once +been there with them—as did also the letter and the blue +handkerchief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a><a href="images/146.png">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie lightened his heart with all this testimony. For +it was often difficult for him to feel any more certain about +the cowboy than he did about his four millionaires, or Sir +Galahad, say, or Uncas, or Goliath, or Crusoe. He could +revel gloriously in make-believe, yes; but perhaps for this +very reason he found himself terribly prone to doubt facts! +And as each day went by, he came to wonder more and +more about the reality of One-Eye, though the passing +time as steadily added romantic touches to the figure of +the Westerner.</p> + +<p>Often at night Johnnie held long conversations with him, +confessing how much he missed him, thanking him for past +favors, begging him to return. "Oh, One-Eye, <i>are</i> y' mad +at me?" he would implore. And if there were stars framed +by the window, they would dance as the gray eyes swam.</p> + +<p>Whenever he roved hither and thither, hunting for +boxes, he was really hunting his friend. He kept close +watch of the men who passed him, always hoping earnestly +that one day he might catch sight of One-Eye.</p> + +<p>He brought home only one box at a time. At first if +some grocer gave him a large one, so that he had more +wood than was needed to start the morning fire, he burned +his surplus, so that he would have to go out again the +following day. Later on he gave the extra sticks to Mrs. +Kukor, tying them into a Robinson Crusoe bundle, like +fagots, and sending them up to the little Jewish lady via +the kitchen window when she let down a string. The two +had a special signal for all this; they called it the "wood +sign."</p> + +<p>One morning as Johnnie was strolling along New Bowery, +alert as ever for the sight of a pair of fur-faced +breeches, his heart suddenly came at a jump into his +throat, and his head swam. For just ahead of him, going +in the same direction, was a tall man wearing a One-Eye +hat!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a><a href="images/147.png">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without a doubt in his mind that here was some one +who knew his dear friend, Johnnie let fall a small box he +was carrying under one arm and rushed forward, planting +himself, breathless, in the man's way. "Oh, Mister!" he +cried. "Oh, where's One-Eye? Would y' tell him for me +that I want t' see him?—<i>awful</i> bad! I'm Johnnie—Johnnie +Smith!"</p> + +<p>The man had long hair that covered his collar like +Grandpa's. Also he plainly had a temper much like Big +Tom's. For after staring down at the boy for a moment, +he kicked out at him. "<i>On</i> your way!" he ordered angrily. +"Ske-daddle!—you little rat!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie obeyed. He was stunned—that any man having +on a One-Eye hat could act so bad. His pride was +hurt, too, at being kicked at in public, and called a rat—he, +the intimate of the famous Westerner. And his sense +of justice was outraged; he had done nothing to deserve +attack and insult.</p> + +<p>This was not a matter for one of those "think" revenges. +He might never see the man again, and whatever +he did must be as plain to all passersby as had been the +other's performance. So when Johnnie was well out of +reach of the long-haired man, he halted to call back at +him. "<i>You</i> ain't no real cowboy!" he declared. "Girl's +hair! Girl's hair!"</p> + +<p>But a pleasant experience came treading on the very +heels of the unpleasant. This was under the Elevated +Railroad in Second Avenue. At the moment, Johnnie +chanced to be a great, champing war horse, grandly drawing, +by a harness made all of the finest silk, a casket (that +small box) filled with coins and bars of gold from Treasure +Island. Being a war horse of Camelot, and, therefore, unused +to New York and train tracks on stilts, he was prancing +and rearing under his gay trappings in wild style +when—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a><a href="images/148.png">[148]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>Up the stone-paved avenue they came, two and two, +two and two, two and two, and behind those twos still others, +all boys of Johnnie's own age, all dressed just alike, +wearing clean khaki uniforms, new flat-brimmed hats of +olive-drab, leggings, and polished brown shoes. What they +were he did not know, though he guessed them to be rich, +noting how proud was their carriage—chins up, backs +straight. Beside them walked their leader, a grown young +man, slender, and with a tanned face plentifully touched +with red.</p> + +<p>The war horse shrank into his rags. He would have +darted out of sight so as not to be seen; would have hid +behind a pillar of the Elevated, dreading looks of scorn, +and laughter, and cat calls, but the sight of that marching +column thrilled and held him. Once before he had seen +a number of boys whom he had envied. They had had on +sweaters and caps, the caps being lettered. They had +carried baseball masks, and bats. But were such—a noisy, +clamorous crew—worthy to be compared with <i>these</i> young +gods?</p> + +<p>Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!—they passed him, +their look high. But the eyes of all were kind and friendly +as they caught sight of Johnnie. Yet—could they know +who he was? of his friendship with the great cowboy? +Hardly. And still the column did not mock at him. There +was not a taunt, not a hoot!</p> + +<p>When they were gone, he stood staring after them, so +entranced that he was in danger of being run down by a +surface car, or an automobile. Presently, however, on being +ordered off the rails by an irate truck driver, he made +on homeward slowly, his yellow head lowered thoughtfully, +the box scraping along behind him at the end of a piece +of rope.</p> + +<p>"Guess they're some kind of soldiers," he told himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a><a href="images/149.png">[149]</a></span> +and reflected that they were small to have been sent to +war.</p> + +<p>A hand touched his shoulder, stopping him. He glanced +up. And could scarcely believe his eyes. For here, as +surprising as lightning out of a sunny sky, was that +leader, that grown young man. "Say, boy!" he panted, +breathing hard from a run. "I saw you just now as we +went by. Would you like to be a scout?"</p> + +<p>"A—a scout?" faltered Johnnie, and did not know +whether or not he could trust his ears; because only recently +he had come to know all about scouts, regarded +them as far beyond even the most distinguished among men +(always barring cowboys), and had decided that, next +after being one of One-Eye's company, he would like to be +a scout. And here——</p> + +<p>"Yes. Would you?" What had brought the leader +back was the look of heartrending yearning in the gray +eyes of a tattered little boy. He smiled, seeing that look +swiftly change to one of joy, of awe.</p> + +<p>"A scout!" repeated Johnnie. Suddenly beside him +there was standing a figure that was strange to Second +Avenue. The figure was that of a sunburned, lanky individual +wearing a hunting shirt of forest-green, fringed +with faded yellow, and a summer cap of skins which had +been shorn of their fur. Under the smock-frock were leggings +laced at the sides, and gartered above the knees. On +his feet were moccasins. There was a knife in his girdle, +and in his hands a long rifle. This was one of Johnnie's +new friends, that slayer of bad Indians, that crack shot, +the brave scout of <i>The Last of the Mohicans</i>. "And y' +say I can be one? One just like Hawkeye?"</p> + +<p>"Hawkeye?"—the young man was puzzled.</p> + +<p>Johnnie was disappointed. "Oh, y' don't know him," +he said. "But he's a scout."</p> + +<p>"I mean a boy scout," explained the other, kindly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a><a href="images/150.png">[150]</a></span> +"Like my troop there"—with a jerk of the head toward +the khaki-clad column, now halted a block away on the +edge of the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>Now that radiant, sunlit look—the glowing eyes and +the flashing teeth adding to the shine of hair and brows +and lashes. "<i>Boy</i> scout!" cried Johnnie. Hawkeye was +gone. Another vision stood in his place. It was Johnnie +himself, gloriously transformed. "Oh, gee! Oh, my goodness! +Oh, Mister! Oh, <i>could</i> I? I'm crazy to! <i>Crazy!</i>"</p> + +<p>The usual crowd of the curious—boys mostly—was now +pressing about the leader and Johnnie, the two or three +grown people in it peeping over the heads of the younger +ones. But the young man seemed not to mind; and as for +Johnnie, if honors were coming his way on the open street, +what could be better than to have a few onlookers?</p> + +<p>"Of course you'll be one," declared the leader, heartily. +He produced a pencil and a businesslike notebook. There +was a pair of glasses hanging against his coat on a round, +black cord. These he adjusted. "Name and address?" +he asked; "—then I'll drop in to see you, and we'll talk +it all over with your father."</p> + +<p>Johnnie gave the information. "Only I ain't got a +father," he corrected, as the pencil traveled. "But y' can +tell the boy scouts, if y' want t', that I got a cowboy +friend named One-Eye, and he lives in a garden that's down +in a terrible big cellar, and wears fur all up his pants in +front, and a bigger hat'n yours, and spurs. And I got +five books—<i>Aladdin</i>, and <i>The Mohicans</i>, and <i>Treasure Island</i>, +and <i>King Arthur</i> and <i>Crusoe!</i>"</p> + +<p>The crowd listened, ready to laugh if the young man +did, which was what the young man did not. On the contrary, +what Johnnie had said seemed to have wrought the +considerable effect Johnnie had desired. For the young +man opened his eyes so big at Johnnie that the glasses fell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a><a href="images/151.png">[151]</a></span> +off, and hit a button of his tunic with a clear ring. "You—you +read?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"I should say so!" returned Johnnie, cheeks going red +with pride. "Most all the time! But I'm goin' t' write a +lot next—goin' t' copy all my books out, 'cause Cis says +that's the way I can learn t' spell the big words. And +lookee!—the handkerchief One-Eye give me!"</p> + +<p>"Did you say One-Eye or Hawkeye?" asked the young +man, feeling of the handkerchief with evident respect for +its appearance and quality.</p> + +<p>"Oh, One-Eye!" declared Johnnie. "'Cause that's all +the eyes he's got. But he owns miles and miles of land, and +hunderds of cattle, and he's so rich that he rides ev'rywheres +he goes in the city in a taxi, all the time!"</p> + +<p>"Well! well!" exclaimed the leader. There was just the +flicker of a smile in his eyes now (Johnnie noted that those +eyes were exactly the color of ground coffee).</p> + +<p>"I've got a dog, too,"—talking as fast as possible in +order to get a great deal said. "But I jus' think him, like +I do Mister Buckle, and Mister Astor, and Mister Rockefeller, +and Mister Carnegie, and the Prince of Wales, and +Mister Van——"</p> + +<p>At that the leader laughed, but he patted Johnnie on +the shoulder. "Tell me all about 'em when I come," he +said. "I must go now. But I'll see you soon. Good-by!" +As he backed, his hand went to the brim of his hat—in a +salute!</p> + +<p>"Goo-good-by!" Johnnie faltered. His own right hand +moved uncertainly, for he would have liked to make the +salute in return, only he did not know how.</p> + +<p>The other started off at a run, following the rails up +the Avenue, while some of that crowd turned away, scattering. +What remained of the group began to aim questions +at Johnnie, rooted to the pavement beside his box.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a><a href="images/152.png">[152]</a></span> +"Who's 'at, kid? What's he want? What y' goin' t' +do?"</p> + +<p>To answer, Johnnie had to lower himself down from +the skies, to which he had been lifted by that salute. "You +kids don't know One-Eye," he said, a trifle loftily. "Well, +do y' know Aladdin? or Long John Silver? or—or Jim +Hawkins? or Uncas? or King Arthur?"</p> + +<p>The last name proved to be an error in selection. Instantly +the half-dozen boys about Johnnie set up a derisive +shout: "He knows a King! Aw, kids! He knows a +King! Whee!"</p> + +<p>A faint smile, betokening pity, curved Johnnie's lips. +Oh, but they <i>were</i> ignorant! and had no stylish friends! +"That gent, he come back t' ask me t' be a scout," he explained +calmly. "Didn't y' hear what he said? And +maybe I'll be one—that is till I go out West t' be a cowboy."</p> + +<p>The shouting and the laughter broke forth again, redoubling. +"And he's goin' t' be a cowboy!" they yelled. +"Look at 'im! Old rags! Yaw!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie put the rope over a shoulder and again started +for home. He scarcely heard the screeching urchins. +And he did not heed them. He was in khaki and leggings +now, and had on a wide hat held in place by a thong which +came just short of his chin. A haversack was on his back, +hanging from lanyards that creased a smart coat. He +was also equipped with a number of other things the names +of which, as yet, he did not know.</p> + +<p>Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp!—he was as military as +a major-general.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a><a href="images/153.png">[153]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>HOPE DEFERRED</h3> + + +<p class="cap">"BOY SCOUTS," explained Mrs. Kukor, "wass awful +stylish. Say you wass a scout, so you go in +beautiful gangs for makink picnic und seeink +birds, mit eatinks from goot foods, und such comes healthy +for you."</p> + +<p>Cis added to that when she arrived home that evening. +"Boy scouts help the police sometimes," she declared, "and +march in parades, and hunt babies that get lost, and don't +let bad boys hurt cats, or girls, and they do nice things +for grown people—just the way Sir Gawain did, and Sir +Kay. And I shouldn't wonder, at the Table Round, when +King Arthur's knights were little, if they weren't <i>all</i> boy +scouts. But, oh, Johnnie, what would <i>he</i> say if you told +him when he gets in that you want to be a scout?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie laughed. "He'd have a fit!" he declared, the +thought of Barber's consternation and anger amusing him +far more than it made him fearful.</p> + +<p>He was still in this happy state of mind when Cis +chanced to remark that there were girl scouts as well as +boy scouts. At once he was shocked, and wrathy, and +quite disgusted. For it spoiled the whole boy scout idea +for him if girls could be scouts.</p> + +<p>"Aw!" he cried, getting red with annoyance, "I don't +believe it! How could <i>girls</i> be <i>scouts?</i> If knights was +scouts when they was little, well, anyhow girls never could +be knights!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a><a href="images/154.png">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cis did not know how it was, only that it was so; and +she reminded him, with appeal in the violet-blue eyes, that +she was not a particle to blame for it. "Girls can march," +she said; "and they can be kind to cats and people a lot +better than boys can."</p> + +<p>"One thing sure," Johnnie went on, firmly, "girls can't +be cowboys." He determined to think twice before he became +a scout since, apparently, the organization was not +so exclusive as he had thought.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but girls can be cowgirls," went on Cis. "I've seen +pictures of cowgirls <i>lots</i> of times. They wear divided +skirts."</p> + +<p>At that, Johnnie turned pale. "Well, I bet girls can't be +pirate-killers," he retorted angrily, "like Jim Hawkins. +Or a p'liceman on horseback, or a millionaire, or own islands +all by theirselves, or ride el'phants like Aladdin, or +poke other girls off horses with spears!"</p> + +<p>As Big Tom now came scuffing into the kitchen, nothing +more could be said on the subject. But later on Johnnie +again complained to Cis about the intrusion of girls into +ranks where they could not fail to be both unwelcome and +unsuited. "They don't belong," he urged, "and they ought +t' keep out! They spoil <i>ev'ry</i>thing!"</p> + +<p>"Well, men do the same things," she argued. "Just to-day +I saw a man running a <i>sewing machine</i>."</p> + +<p>"But he's got t' do it for some reason," Johnnie declared, +"like I have t' make vi'lets—and cook."</p> + +<p>"But if all the boy scouts don't care because girls are +girl scouts, why should <i>you</i> care?" she wanted to know, +hurt at his attitude toward her sex. "You know you don't +belong yet. And if that young man thinks it's all right, +why it must be, and he'll think you're funny if you scold +about it."</p> + +<p>The next morning Johnnie had but one thought: The +promised call of the leader. Naturally he did not take his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a><a href="images/155.png">[155]</a></span> +usual trip to search for One-Eye and bring home a box. +Instead he made elaborate preparations looking toward +the arrival of his visitor. With One-Eye, somehow it had +not mattered how the flat appeared. Hero though he was, +style counted little with the cowboy, who dwelt in a cellar +along with horses. And anyhow One-Eye thought the +flat was all right "far's it goes." Those had been his very +words.</p> + +<p>But with that leader, Johnnie felt it was different. He +proceeded at once, mentally, to establish the gallant young +stranger in a most luxurious apartment, with big windows, +lace curtains, a figured carpet and shining morris +chairs. And though across this attractive bachelor habitation +he stretched a clothesline for the drying of expensive +laundry, he was careful to think this line as a brand +new one which was never used as a telephone, since right +at hand was the genuine instrument.</p> + +<p>How Johnnie went to work! When all of the duties of +the flat were done, he pulled off the apron and hid it in +the wash boiler. He did not want that leader to catch him +wearing any garment that belonged to a woman. Neither +did he want his newest friend even to guess that he (Johnnie) +did any sort of girl's work—in particular any cooking.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" he exclaimed to himself. "If he was t' +know what I do—well, maybe he wouldn't ask me t' be one +of his scouts!"</p> + +<p>Now he went at himself. He washed his face so that it +glistened. He scrubbed his neck and ears till they were +scarlet. And still using the soap liberally, even contrived +to get rid of a coal smudge of long standing, situated down +along his thin left calf.</p> + +<p>But the morning passed, and the afternoon went by, +and—no one came.</p> + +<p>No one, that is, but Mrs. Kukor, who looked in toward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a><a href="images/156.png">[156]</a></span> +five o'clock. In amazement she noted the neatness of the +kitchen and the cleanliness of his face. "Ach, Levi!" she +exclaimed. "How you gits a runnink jump mit yourselluf!"</p> + +<p>"Prob'ly that gentleman, he's been awful busy to-day," +said Johnnie, "and so he'll be here first thing in the +mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Pos-i-tivvle!" comforted Mrs. Kukor.</p> + +<p>But late that night, when the whole flat was abed, he +admitted to himself not only his disappointment but his +keen chagrin. And he said to himself, independent now, +that perhaps, after all, he did not care to be a scout!—there +were so many other wonderful things he could be.</p> + +<p>This is how it came about that, lying in the dark, he +thought a most curious thing—one that had to do with +the years ahead—the future that would find him +grown-up.</p> + +<p>The thing was this: he held himself away from himself +to look at himself—precisely as he might have looked at +Cis, or Big Tom, or Grandpa. But this was not all. For +he did not look at himself as he was, in the big, old clothes; +and he did not look at himself <i>singly</i>. He looked at <i>six +himselves</i>, all ranged in a wonderful row!</p> + +<p>Remembering what Cis had said about girl scouts and +cowgirls, there was no Johnnie Smith either in khaki or +in fur-trimmed breeches. The first Johnnie Smith of the +row was a policeman (mounted!); the second, a millionaire, +wearing his fur on his collar; then there was a Johnnie +Smith dressed like Jim Hawkins, and he had two pistols +in his belt; beside this pirate-slaying Johnnie was a Johnnie +who inhabited a lonely island with a gentleman who +owned a parrot and had a man Friday; and not too close +to the Johnnie who was Crusoe's friend was a Johnnie who +rode about with Aladdin on a great fighting elephant +covered with blankets of steel which could turn the arrows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a><a href="images/157.png">[157]</a></span> +of all enemies; last of the six, and perhaps the most glorious, +too, was Sir Johnnie Smith, helmeted, and in knightly +dress, sitting a curveting gray, lance and shield in hand.</p> + +<p>Which of them all would he be?</p> + +<p>There was plenty of time to decide. A thin cheek +cupped in a too-large hand, he slept, dreaming that the +leader was at the hall door, knocking, knocking, knocking, +but that for the life of him, Johnnie could not move +to answer the knock, being fixed to the floor, and helpless. +He called to the young man, though, with his whole might, +which woke Big Tom and Cis, and Cis woke Johnnie, by +telling him to turn over, for he was having a nightmare.</p> + +<p>Next morning, hope buoyed Johnnie up from the moment +he opened his eyes. He rose joyously; and by nine +o'clock everything was in readiness for the coming of the +leader, and Johnnie was waiting eagerly, ears cocked.</p> + +<p>But when, shortly before noon, he realized that a +stranger was climbing the tenement stairs, not his ears +but his small nose gave him the information. Charging the +air from the hall was perfume so strong and delightful +that, sniffing it in surprise and pleasure, he hastened to +open the door and glance up and around in the gloom for +what he felt sure would be like a smoke.</p> + +<p>He saw nothing; but heard lively breathing, and a +<i>swish, swish, swish;</i> next, a weak, mewlike cry. Then +here was Mrs. Kukor herself, dropping down volubly, step +by step, from her floor, aided by the banisters. "Eva?" +she cried as she came; "wass it mine Eva?"</p> + +<p>Now, coming up the stairs to Johnnie's level, appeared +a young lady with red cheeks on a marvelously white face. +She had on a silk dress (it was the silk which was doing +the swishing), a great deal of jewelry, and a heavy fur +coat fairly adrip around its whole lower edge with dozens +of little tails.</p> + +<p>But this was not all. Slung under one arm, she carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a><a href="images/158.png">[158]</a></span> +a fat baby!—and what a rosy, what a spotlessly clean, +baby!</p> + +<p>The baby was Mrs. Kukor's grandson, the lady was +Mrs. Kukor's daughter, for "Mama!" cried the young +mother; and as they met just in front of Johnnie there +was an explosive outburst of talk in a strange tongue, +and much of what Johnnie afterwards described to Cis +as "double kissin'," that is, a kissing on both cheeks, the +baby coming in for his share and weeping over it forlornly.</p> + +<p>Greeting done, Mrs. Kukor introduced Johnnie. "Eva," +she beamed, "from long you have hear Mama speakink +over Chonnie Schmitt. Und—here wass!"</p> + +<p>Fortunately Johnnie's right hand was clean. So was +his smiling face. "Oh, Mrs. Reisenberger, I thank you +for the tel'phone-d'rect'ry," he began gratefully, as the +two shook hands.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Reisenberger was staring at his rags. Also, she +was now holding the baby well up and back. "Oh, I don't +like it that my Mama should live down here," she declared. +"She can live swell in the Bronx with Jake and me."</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie stared—miserably. For her words were +like a sickening blow. What if Mrs. Kukor were to leave? +What would he do without her?</p> + +<p>"I like I should live always by mine own place," asserted +Mrs. Kukor. And to Johnnie, as she plucked a bit of +Mrs. Reisenberger's skirt between a thumb and finger, +"Look, Chonnie! All from silks!"</p> + +<p>Then she led the way higher, while heads popped out +of doors all up and down the house; and Mrs. Reisenberger +puffed after her, like some sort of a sweet-smelling, red-and-white +engine. "Oh, Mama," expostulated the other +between breaths as she toiled to that last floor, "how I +wish you should come to live with Jake and me!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Reisenberger was excitement enough for one day. +But on the day following nothing happened, nor on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a><a href="images/159.png">[159]</a></span> +day after that. And gradually Johnnie's hope began to +lessen, his faith to ooze.</p> + +<p>By the end of a week, the young man with the eyeglasses +scarcely seemed real, so that when Cis gently suggested +that Johnnie had never met any leader, he was +hardly able to protest that he had. By the end of a +fortnight, his newest friend merged with that unsubstantial +company made up of David, Aladdin, Uncas and all +the rest. Then Johnnie took to telephoning him over +the clothesline. Also, when Cis was home, the scout leader +had a part in all those elaborate social functions she +enjoyed, such as dances, and calling, and shopping.</p> + +<p>These days, Johnnie again wore the apron, and neglected +the soap and the comb and the brushing. Ah, it had all +been too good to come true!</p> + +<p>Two or three times, with a nubbin of chalk, he tried to +draw the face of the young man on that handy bit of +kitchen wall where the smooth plaster showed. But what +unpracticed hand could trace such a splendid countenance? +and what bit of white crayon could give any idea +of a cheek all tan and red? It was one thing, and easy, +to suggest Big Tom, with his bulging eyes, his huge, +twisted nose, his sloping chin and his Saturday night +bristles. But regular features were quite another matter.</p> + +<p>Then one morning as he stood writing the big word +"landscape" on the plaster, this word being out of <i>The +Last of the Mohicans</i>, which he held in his left hand, +his attention was caught by a sound in the hall. Some one +seemed to be walking about aimlessly, as if uncertain +where to knock.</p> + +<p>Johnnie dropped his book into the big shirt, reached +the door in a few long jumps, jerked it wide, and—looked +straight into a smiling, ruddy face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a><a href="images/160.png">[160]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>MR. PERKINS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE was real! He had come! In a uniform, too, and +boots, and a hat!—looking, in fact, even more +wonderful than he had under the Elevated.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" breathed Johnnie, so glad and proud all at once +that he forgot the apron and his hair, or that the table +was still strewn with the breakfast dishes. He fell back +a step. "Oh, Mister Leader!"</p> + +<p>The young man entered, lifting his hat from his head +as he came, and displaying short, smooth, dark hair +that glistened even in that poorly lighted room. "How +are you, Johnnie!" he said heartily. They shook hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm fine!" answered Johnnie, smiling his sunniest.</p> + +<p>"Good!" The other gave a swift glance round. And +certainly he was neither shocked nor delighted with the +kitchen, for he acted as if he was seeing the sort of place +he had expected to see—until he spied the wheel chair. +Then he seemed surprised, and greatly interested. He +laid his hat among the breakfast cups and crossed the +room softly to look down at the little old man crumpled, +sleeping, in the folds of the moth-eaten coat, the doll on +one arm.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa Barber," explained Johnnie, speaking low. +"I took him on a long trip down the Miss'sippi this mornin', +and he's awful tired."</p> + +<p>The young man nodded. A curious wrinkle had come +between his brows, as if some thought were troubling him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a><a href="images/161.png">[161]</a></span> +Also, even his forehead was red now. Suddenly he took +out a handkerchief, turned, and walked to the window, +where he used the handkerchief rather noisily, shaking his +head. When he came about once more, and emerged from +behind the square of white linen, not only did he look as +if he were blushing violently, but even his eyes were a +little red.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to ask me to sit down?" he asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am! I do! Oh, what's the matter with me t'day! +I forgit ev'rything!"</p> + +<p>The young man chose the morris chair.</p> + +<p>It was then that Johnnie realized how untidy the kitchen +was, remembered that he had not washed the old soldier's +face, or his own, or got rid of that apron. With fumbling +fingers and mounting color, he slipped the apron strings +over his tangled hair. "How'd I come t' have <i>this</i> thing +on!" he exclaimed, and looked at the apron as if he had +never seen it before.</p> + +<p>The young man seemed not to notice either Johnnie's +confusion or the soiled badge of girlish service. "You +can call me Mr. Perkins, if you like," he said pleasantly. +"And tell me—what've you been doing with yourself +since I saw you?"</p> + +<p>Again sunlight focused upon Johnnie's face. "Well, +mostly," he replied, "—mostly, I been jus' waitin' for +you." He seated himself on the kitchen chair.</p> + +<p>"Now, you don't mean it!" cried Mr. Perkins, blushing +again. "Well, bless your heart, old fellow! Waiting +for me! I wish I could've come sooner. But I've been, +pretty busy—up to my ears!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," Johnnie assured him. "'Cause +I filled in the wait good 'nough. I jus' kept thinkin' +you here, and ev'ry mornin' Grandpa and me'd have you +'long with us when we went t' Niaggery, or anywheres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a><a href="images/162.png">[162]</a></span> +else; and ev'ry night, Cis'd take you with us, callin' on +the Queen, or buyin' at the stores, or goin' t' grand balls."</p> + +<p>After that, Mr. Perkins did not have anything to say +for as much as a whole minute, but sat looking earnestly +at his small host, and blinking a good deal. Then, "I see," +he said finally. "That's nice. Mighty nice. I'm glad. +And—and I hope I conducted myself all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you was fine! Always!" declared Johnnie, his voice +breaking, he was so emphatic. "Cis never could dance +with One-Eye, and not jus' 'cause he wears spurs, neither. +No, she thinks One-Eye's too homely to dance, or go +callin', or take t' Wanamaker's. But, oh, she says you're +jus' fine! Maybe not as grand as the Prince of Wales, +she says, but then she's awful silly about him."</p> + +<p>More steady looking; more blinking. "Well,—er—what +did you say the little girl's name is?"</p> + +<p>"Her full name's Narcissa Amy Way," answered +Johnnie. "It's pretty long, ain't it? And if Grandpa +and me called her that, Big Tom'd think we was wastin' +time, or tryin' t' be stylish, and he hates ev'rything that's +stylish—I don't know why. So round the flat, for ev'ry +day, we call her Cis—C-i-s."</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Narcissa is right about me," said Mr. +Perkins. "I'm <i>not</i> as grand as the Prince of Wales—not +by a good deal! But now suppose you tell me all about +yourself, and—and the others who live here."</p> + +<p>Johnnie did so. And since he spoke low, and evenly, +Grandpa did not wake, to interrupt. At the end of an +hour, Mr. Perkins knew all that Johnnie was able to +tell—about himself, his parents, his Uncle and Aunt, +Mike Callaghan, the policeman, and the Fifty-fifth Street +millionaire; about Cis and her mother, Barber and his +father, Mrs. Kukor, One-Eye and the other cowboys, +Buckle, Boof, David, Goliath (mingling the real, the historical, +the visionary and the purely fictional), young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a><a href="images/163.png">[163]</a></span> +Edward of England, that Prince's numerous silk-hatted +friends, the four millionaires, the janitress, Mrs. Reisenberger +and her baby, the flea-bitten mare, the postman, +Edwarda (he showed the new doll), then, in quick succession, +his favorite friends out of his five books.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins listened, sitting on the small of his back, +with his elbows on the arms of the morris chair, and his +fingers touching. And when Johnnie came to the end of +his story (with King Arthur, and those three Queens who +kneeled around the king and sorely wept and wailed), all +the visitor said was, "Good boy! And now tell me more +about your reading."</p> + +<p>Johnnie's eyes danced. He stood up, fairly quivering +with happy excitement. Enthusiastically he explained +that directly under Mr. Perkins was his oldest book, whereat +Mr. Perkins got up, lifted the old chair cushion, and +discovered the telephone directory. However, astonishing +as it may seem, he had one just like it, so Johnnie did +not lift the big book out to show its chief points of +interest. Instead, he brought forth from Cis's closet his +other treasures in binding, laying them very choicely on +the table, and handing them over one by one—the best-looking +of the lot first.</p> + +<p>The books were put away again very soon, Johnnie +explaining why. "But y' can keep the newspaper out," +he declared. "Big Tom's seen it, and didn't try even t' +tear it up."</p> + +<p>"That was nice of him!" asserted Mr. Perkins, as he +noted the date on the paper. "But what about school?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, gee! I forgot all about Mister Maloney!" regretted +Johnnie. He filled in the gap promptly, including +night school, and the matter of his not having suitable +clothes. "But when Mister Maloney heard how I can +read," he concluded, "he seen I didn't need t' go t' school +the way other kids do. Or anyhow"—remarking a curi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a><a href="images/164.png">[164]</a></span>ous +light in those coffee-colored eyes—"that's what Big +Tom says. And I can write good. Watch me, Mister +Perkins! I'll write for you on the plaster—big words, +too!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sure you write well," Mr. Perkins agreed. +"So I'd rather you'd talk. Tell me this: what do you +eat?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie answered, and as correctly as possible, being +careful all the while not to give so much as a hint of the +shameful truth that he, himself, did most of the cooking. +As he talked, he kept wishing that the conversation would +swing round to scouts and uniforms. He even tried to +swing it himself. "Mrs. Kukor says that scouts make +picnics," he said, "and have awful good things t' eat."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Perkins passed that over, hint and all. He +wanted to know whether or not Johnnie got plenty of milk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the milk we buy is all for Grandpa," Johnnie +protested. "A big kid like me——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins interrupted. "I take a quart a day," he +said quietly, "and I'm a bigger kid than you are; I'm +twenty-one. Milk's got everything in it that a man needs +from one end of his life to the other. Don't forget that."</p> + +<p>"No, sir,"—fixing upon his visitor a look that admitted +he was wrong. "I wish I could drink a lot of milk," he +added regretfully.</p> + +<p>"And what about exercise? and baths? Out-door exercise, +I mean," said Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"I hang out o' the window 'most ev'ry mornin' that I +don't go after boxes," answered Johnnie, so glad that he +could give a satisfactory account of the matter of fresh +air. "And bathin', well, I bathed ev'ry day when I was +at my Aunt Sophie's, but down here——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Mr. Perkins smiled encouragement.</p> + +<p>"We ain't got no tub," said Johnnie, "so my neck's 'bout +as far as I ever git."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a><a href="images/165.png">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the moment for which he had been waiting: "And +you think you'd like to be a scout?" inquired Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gee!" sighed Johnnie. He relaxed from sheer excess +of feeling. His head tipped back against his chair, +and he wagged it comically. "Wouldn't I jus'! And wear +clothes like yours, and—and learn t' s'lute!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins laughed, but it was a pleasant, promising +laugh. "We'll see what can be done," he said briskly. +"And to begin with, how old are you?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie opened his mouth—but held his tongue. He +guessed that age had something to do with being a scout. +But what? Was he too old? But the boys who had +marched past him were as tall as he, if not taller. Then +was he too young? Taken unaware, he was not able +quickly to decide what the trouble might be. But he had +not lived five years at Tom Barber's without learning how +to get himself out of a tight corner. This time, all he +had to do was tell the absolute truth. "I don't 'xac'ly +know," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Mm!" Mr. Perkins thought that over. Presently, adjusting +his glasses, he looked Johnnie up and down, while +anxious swallows undulated Johnnie's thin neck, and +about his knobs of knees the long fringe of the big trousers +trembled. "But we can find out how old you are, +can't we?" Mr. Perkins added, with a sudden smile.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'm ten goin' on 'leven," capitulated Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Ten going on eleven! That's splendid! It's the best +age to begin getting ready to be a scout! The very +best!"</p> + +<p>"Gee! I'm glad!"</p> + +<p>"So am I! You see, it takes some time to be a scout. +It'll take every spare minute you've got to get ready. +It's something that can't be done in a hurry. But here +you've got more than a year to prepare yourself."</p> + +<p>"More'n a—a <i>year?</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a><a href="images/166.png">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All scouts are twelve."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" A shadow clouded the gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"But a year means that you can get yourself in dandy +condition. And would you mind showing me how fit you +are now?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie spread out his hands deprecatingly. "That's +the trouble," he declared, looking down at his big, old +clothes. "They don't fit."</p> + +<p>But when he understood just what Mr. Perkins meant, +in a twinkling he had slipped Barber's shirt over his +head and was standing bared to the waist, all his little +ribs showing pitifully, and—as he faced square about—his +shoulder blades thrusting themselves almost through a +skin that was a sickly white. "Ain't I fine?" he wanted +to know. "Don't I look good'n strong?"</p> + +<p>The glasses came tumbling off Mr. Perkins's nose. He +coughed, and pulled out the white handkerchief again, +and fell to polishing the crystal discs. "Fair," he said +slowly. "But there's room for improvement."</p> + +<p>Johnnie sensed a compassionate note in the answer. +"Course I ain't fat," he conceded hastily. "But when +Mrs. Kukor gives me filled fish I can see a big diff'rence +right away!"</p> + +<p>"Fat isn't what a boy wants," returned Mr. Perkins. +"He wants good blood, and strong muscles, and a first-class +pair of lungs!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Raising the big shirt on high, Johnnie disappeared +into it, fixing upon Mr. Perkins as he went a +look that was full of anxiety. As he emerged, his lip was +trembling. "You—you don't think I look all right, do +you?" he asked. "Maybe you think I can't ever—you +mean I—I can't be——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing of the kind!" laughed Mr. Perkins. +"Fact is, Johnnie, you're way ahead as far as your mind +is concerned. I'm mighty pleased about your reading. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a><a href="images/167.png">[167]</a></span> +certainly am, old fellow! And in no time you can get +some blood into your cheeks, and cultivate some muscle, +and straighten out your lungs. Once there was a boy who +was in worse shape than you are, because he had the +asthma, and could hardly breathe. And what do you +suppose he did?"</p> + +<p>"Et lots?" hazarded Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"He said he would make over his own body, and he +made it over."</p> + +<p>"But, Mister Perkins, I'll do it, too! I'll make mine +over! Tell me how!"</p> + +<p>"Fresh air, proper breathing, exercises—day after +day, that boy never stopped. And when he grew up, he +found himself a strong man even among very strong men. +That was the great American, Theodore Roosevelt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know about him!" cried Johnnie. "He was +President once, and he was a soldier. Cis knows a girl, +and the girl's father, he worked in a big, stylish hotel, and +once he carried Mister Roosevelt's trunk on his own back! +Cis could name the girl, and prove it!"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Perkins had no doubt as to the truth of the +account. "The motto of the Boy Scouts is Be Prepared," +he went on. "That means, be ready—in mind and body—to +meet anything that happens. Now, as I said a bit +ago, Johnnie, you've got a good brain. And when your +body's strong, it'll not only be a promise of long life +for you, but you can defend yourself; better still, you +can protect others."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" Johnnie was bubbling with eagerness. +"Please let me start now. Can I? What'll I do first?"</p> + +<p>"Bathe," answered Mr. Perkins. "Every day. Scrub +yourself from head to foot. Give your skin a chance to +breathe. You'll eat better and sleep better. You'll pick +up."</p> + +<p>One, two, three, and the dishes were cleared from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a><a href="images/168.png">[168]</a></span> +table. Then with the hall door locked as a precaution, +Johnnie spread the oiled table-cloth on the floor (though +Mr. Perkins demurred a little at this), planted the washtub +at the center of the cloth, half filled the tub from the +sink spigot, warmed the water with more from the teakettle, +and took a long-deferred, much-needed rub down. +It was soapy, and thorough. And he proved to himself +that he really liked water very much—except, perhaps, in +the region of his neck and ears!</p> + +<p>When he was rinsed and rubbed dry, and in his clothes +again, Mr. Perkins took off his own coat. Under it was +a khaki-colored shirt, smart and clean and soldierly, that +seemed to Johnnie the kind of shirt most to be desired +among all the shirts of the world. Mr. Perkins pushed up +the sleeves of it, planted his feet squarely, and fell to +shooting his arms up and out, and bending his solid figure +this way and that. Next, he alternately thrust out his +legs. And Johnnie followed suit—till both were breathless +and perspiring.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, exercise first and bathe afterward," instructed +Mr. Perkins. "To-night, be sure to sleep with that +window open. And now I'll give you a lesson in saluting."</p> + +<p>It was then that Grandpa wakened. And perhaps +something about the lesson stirred those old memories of +his, for he insisted upon saluting too, and tossed poor +Letitia aside in his excitement, and called Mr. Perkins +"General."</p> + +<p>When the latter was gone, with no pat on the head for +Johnnie, but a genuine man-to-man hand shake, and a +promise of his return soon, the boy, for the first time in +his short life, took stock of the condition of his own +body. Slipping out of the big shirt once more, and borrowing +Cis's mirror, he contrived, by skewing his head +around, chinning first one shoulder, then the other, to get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a><a href="images/169.png">[169]</a></span> +a meager look at his back. He appraised his spindling +arms and legs. He thumped his flat chest.</p> + +<p>"Gee! Mister Perkins is dead right!" he admitted soberly. +"I'm too skinny, and too thin through, and my +complexion's too good." In the back of his head, always, +was that dream of leaving the flat some day, never to +return. "But like I am, why, I couldn't work hard 'nough, +or earn good," he told himself now, and very earnestly. +"So I'll jus' go ahead and make my body over the way +Mister Roosevelt did."</p> + +<p>While he was doing his housework he stopped now and +again to shoot out an arm or a leg, or to bend himself +from the waist. His skin was tingling pleasantly. His +eyes were bright. A new urge was upon him. A fresh +interest filled his heart. His hopes were high.</p> + +<p>Cis, when she was told that the leader had actually +called, not only believed the statement but shared +Johnnie's enthusiasm. Realizing how much his training +to be a scout would help him, she even tried to do away +with that certain objection of his. "Maybe they don't +have girl scouts any more," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"Aw, I don't care a snap 'bout girl scouts!" he answered. +"Cis, he called me 'old fellow'—I like it! And he's twenty-one. +And you just ought t' see the shirt he wears!—not +with little flowers on it, like Mike Callaghan's. And, oh, +Cis, he never even s'pected that I cook, or wash, or do +anything like that! And while he was here I took a bath!"</p> + +<p>"No!" Her enthusiasm went. She was horrified. "Oh, +Johnnie! Oh, my!" She grew pink and pale by turns. +"And you so dirty!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did! What's the matter with y'! I wouldn't +need t' bathe if I wasn't dirty!"</p> + +<p>"Oh,"—tears of mortification swam in the violet-blue +eyes—"but you were extra dirty!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a><a href="images/170.png">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," returned Johnnie, refusing to get +panic-<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'sticken'">stricken</ins>.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see your bath water," she persisted. "Where +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Gone down the sink."</p> + +<p>"How did it look! Pretty bad? Dark? Just how?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it looked kind of riley if you got under the soap +that was floatin' on top," Johnnie admitted. "'Cause +I give myself a dandy one! Oh, a lot of skin come off!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! And did he see under the soap? And what +did you use for a towel?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie had used a pillowcase. "'Cause what else <i>could</i> +I use?" he implored.</p> + +<p>But Cis did not answer, for she was in tears. And she +would not look up even to see him salute.</p> + +<p>Big Tom had his turn at being appalled—this at the +supper table, when he observed Johnnie's appetite. "As +you git bigger," pointed out Barber, "you eat more and +more. So, understand me, y' got t' <i>make</i> more—<i>work</i> +more."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Johnnie, helping himself to fried mush +and coffee for the third time, and breaking open his second +baked potato. But to Cis, later on, he confided his intention +to work no harder, yet to "stuff." "I can't make +myself over jus' on fresh air," he declared.</p> + +<p>She warmly upheld his determination. Yet she flatly +refused to take Mr. Perkins shopping with them, pleading +that she felt ashamed.</p> + +<p>"About what?" Johnnie asked, irritated. "About your +cryin'?"</p> + +<p>"About that bath you took," she answered. "Oh, +gracious!"</p> + +<p>He was not in the least bothered about it. And when +the rest of the household were asleep, he had a splendid +think about himself. He was twenty-one, and tall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a><a href="images/171.png">[171]</a></span> +strong, so that he was able to ignore Big Tom. He was +well-dressed, too, and did no more girl's work. Instead, +he was the head and front of some great, famous organization +which numbered among its members all the millionaires +in New York. Just what this organization was +all about, he did not pause to decide. But he had his +office in a building as large as the Grand Central Station, +and was waited upon by a man in a car-conductor's +cap.</p> + +<p>Cis had once peeped into the huge dining rooms of the +Waldorf Astoria, this while walking along Fifth Avenue. +She had described to Johnnie the lofty, ornate ceilings, +and the rich, heavy hangings, which description thereafter +had furnished him with a basis whenever he transformed +the kitchen for one of his grandest thinks. Upon +his new office he lavished, now, a silver ceiling, velvet curtains, +a marble desk and gold chairs.</p> + +<p>The thing finished, he rose, shed his clothes, and, +standing on his mattress, white and stark against the black +of the stove, filled his lungs from the open window, wielded +his arms, bent his torso, and kicked up his heels.</p> + +<p>In due time, by faithfully following Mr. Perkins's instructions, +he would be plump, well-muscled, red-faced, +and rounded as to chest. Then in a beautiful uniform +and a broad hat, with his right hand at salute, he would +burst, as it were, upon the neighborhood—the perfect +scout!</p> + +<p>That night the whole world seemed to him khaki-colored. +That day marked the beginning of a new Johnnie +Smith.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a><a href="images/172.png">[172]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ROOF</h3> + + +<p class="cap">IN the morning, he was very stiff. When he discovered +this, he made up his mind that he was ill enough to stay +in bed, which (it being Saturday) would let him out of +having to do the scrubbing. But when, on second thought, +he consulted Cis, he changed his mind, instantly scrambled +up, put the scrubbing water on to heat, and started breakfast. +For he dared not allow Big Tom to know the truth +about his condition. And the truth was, he gathered, that +his stiffness was due to those exercises—also to the baleful +effects of the bath!</p> + +<p>"Maybe I lost <i>too</i> much skin," he suggested. "Y' think +I'm any worse off for it, with all that skin gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you keep it up!" returned Cis. "You won't be +stiff as soon as you've moved around a little. And, oh, +Johnnie, don't ever, ever, <i>ever</i> wait so long before you +bathe again! I'm just <i>sick</i> about what happened yesterday! +I dreamed about it!—though, of course"—catching +at a straw of comfort—"it would've been a lot worse if +<i>He</i> had been here instead of the scout man."</p> + +<p>Deep-breathing and exercises regularly punctuated, or, +rather, regularly interrupted, the morning program of +work. And bath water took the place of the scrubbing +water in the tub directly the floor was mopped up. Then +Johnnie could not deny himself the pleasure of showing +himself to Mrs. Kukor while he still bore evidences of +his unwonted, and unspotted, state. Blowing and excited,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a><a href="images/173.png">[173]</a></span> +and looking yellower than usual, he displayed his freshly +washed neck, a fringe of wet hair, and a pair of soapy +ears. "And ain't I shiney as a plate?" he demanded. +"It's my second in two days!"</p> + +<p>She turned him round and round, marveling. "Pos-i-tivvle!" +she declared.</p> + +<p>For a very long time Johnnie had been making a point +of skimping the Saturday noon meal, this because Barber +came home to eat it. Furthermore, as hot biscuits and +gravy made a combination dish of which the longshoreman +was particularly fond, Johnnie had seen to it that +hot biscuits and gravy did not appear on the table except +rarely. But this Saturday his inner man was demanding +more food than usual. His appetite was coming up, +exactly as Mr. Perkins had said it would! So Johnnie +set about preparing a good dinner.</p> + +<p>He used a cup of Grandpa's milk for biscuit-dough. +And when the biscuits—two dozen of them—were browning +nicely in the oven, he concocted a generous supply of +bacon-grease gravy, and set it to boiling creamily. There +were boiled potatoes, too, and two quarts of strong tea. +Not only because he was hungry, but also because he +dreaded to let Big Tom know just how hungry he was, +Johnnie ate half of his dinner before the others returned. +At the regular meal, he ate his ordinary amount.</p> + +<p>"Gee! Water and air'll fix me all right!" he boasted +to Cis. "Who'd ever b'lieve it!" He was too happy even +to fret about One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"Haven't I advised you lots of times to wash yourself +all over?" she reminded him. "My! I'd bathe if all I had +to bathe in was a teacup! And now I've a mind to start +in on the exercises!" She was too pleased over the change +in him to bring up just then the matter of that first bath.</p> + +<p>There was no mistake about Johnnie's improving. Mr. +Perkins noted it the moment he stepped through the door<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a><a href="images/174.png">[174]</a></span> +one morning early in the next week. He had brought with +him a quart-bottle of delicious, fresh milk, and Johnnie +drank it, slowly, cup by cup, as they talked. What had +helped most, Mr. Perkins declared, was the open window +at night, the fresh air. And Johnnie must have even more +fresh air.</p> + +<p>"But how're we going to manage it?" Mr. Perkins +wanted to know. "Because you can't very well go out +for long walks and leave Grandpa alone"—which showed +that Mr. Perkins felt as One-Eye did about it. "If there +was a fire, say, what could the poor, old, helpless man do?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that!" admitted Johnnie. "But"—with +clear logic—"when Big Tom's home, and Grandpa's +safe's anything, why, even then I ain't ever 'lowed to go +for a walk. Big Tom and Mustapha, they're both against +me and Aladdin playin' in the street."</p> + +<p>"What about the roof?" asked Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, Johnnie had never thought of that, +either. "But Aunt Sophie wouldn't 'low me to go up on +her roof," he remembered. "And I don't b'lieve the jan'*-tress +would on this one."</p> + +<p>He was right. Though Mr. Perkins called personally +upon that lady, and laid before her the question of +Johnnie's health, she was adamantine in her refusal. Even +the sight of a two-dollar bill could not sway her, offered, +as Mr. Perkins explained, not in the hope of bribing her +to do anything that was forbidden, but as pay in case +Johnnie proved to be any trouble; for she had explained, +"Kids is fierce for t'rowin' trash 'round, and I can't swip +the roof <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'onnly'">only</ins> once a year."</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins was keenly disappointed. But he tried +to make light of their set-back, and distracted Johnnie's +thoughts from the roof by producing two wonderful presents. +One was an unframed picture of Colonel Theodore +Roosevelt, looking splendid and soldierlike in a uniform<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a><a href="images/175.png">[175]</a></span> +and a broad hat turned up at one side, and a sword that +hung from his belt. The second gift was a toothbrush.</p> + +<p>Johnnie pinned the picture above Cis's dressing-table +box in the tiny room. The toothbrush (it had a handle +of pure ivory!), he slipped inside his shirt. Mr. Perkins +suggested delicately that, when it came to the care of +the teeth, there was no time like the present. But Johnnie +begged for delay. "I want Cis t' see it while it's so nice +and new," he argued, "—before it's all wet and spoiled."</p> + +<p>Cis was fairly enraptured when he showed her the +brush. "Oh, I've been wanting to own a good one for +years!" she cried; "and not just the ten-cent-store kind! +Oh, Johnnie—!" She tipped her sleek head to one side +entreatingly.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had foreseen all this. He bargained with her. +"I'll swop y' the brush," he declared.</p> + +<p>"Swop for what?—Oh, Johnnie! Oh, isn't it <i>sweet!</i>"</p> + +<p>Grandpa was in the room. Johnnie raised on his toes +to whisper: "For you not t' tell Mister Perkins n'r anybody +else when I sneak up on the roofs of nights."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't lean over the edge, Johnnie, and go +all dizzy, and fall?"—the brush was a sore temptation.</p> + +<p>Johnnie belittled her fears. "Couldn't I jus' as easy +fall out of our window?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>The bargain was struck; the brush changed hands.</p> + +<p>In the face of those two gifts, Cis could never again +doubt the existence of a real Mr. Perkins. "I didn't care +awfully whether he was a truly person or not," she confided +to Johnnie now. "But as long as he <i>is</i> alive, I think +I'd like to meet him. So the next time he comes, you get +him to come the time after that between twelve and one, +and I'll run home. I can eat my lunch while I'm walking."</p> + +<p>Johnnie considered the suggestion. "You won't give +'way on me 'bout the swop, though."</p> + +<p>"Cross my heart!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a><a href="images/176.png">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>After she had used the brush (thoroughly, too), and +could not, therefore, retreat out of her bargain, he offered +an argument which he felt sure would clinch her silence. +"You wouldn't want Mister Perkins t' find out that y' +didn't have a good brush of your own," he reminded her, +"and that y' took mine away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't!"—fervently. Then, recalling how she +had already been mortified in the matter of his first bath, +and returning, girl-like, to that worn-out subject, "Johnnie, +are you positive Mr. Perkins didn't see you empty +the tub that day? and did he see the bottom of it when +the water was all out? and in the bottom wasn't there a +lot of grit?"</p> + +<p>He reassured her. "But, my goodness, Cis, you're +terrible stuck-up," he declared.</p> + +<p>Certainly she felt more comfortable. For at once, with +a haughty and precise air, which was her idea of how the +socially elect bear themselves, with a set smile on her +quaint face, and modulating her voice affectedly, she took +Mr. Perkins's arm and went for a walk around Seward +Park (the table), discussing the weather as she strolled, +the scenery, and other impersonal subjects. And there +was much bowing and hand shaking to it all, while Johnnie +stood by, scarcely knowing whether to be pleased or cross.</p> + +<p>"When you come home, and Mister Perkins is here, +what'll I say?" he asked; "—just at first?"</p> + +<p>"You introduce us," instructed Cis. "You tell him what +my name is, and you tell me what his name is."</p> + +<p>"But you know his name!" argued Johnnie. "And +he knows yours."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," she returned. "It sounds silly, but +everybody does it that way, and so you must, or he'll +think you're funny."</p> + +<p>"Well, all right." It was important that Mr. Perkins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a><a href="images/177.png">[177]</a></span> +should not think him funny, lest that invitation to become +a scout be withdrawn.</p> + +<p>That night, so soon as Big Tom was asleep, Johnnie +made his first trip to the roof; and understood, the moment +he emerged from the little house which was built over the +top of the stairs, why Mr. Perkins had recommended it +as being more desirable than the street. Of course it was! +The confinement of the past week or more helped to +emphasize its good points. Ah, this was a place to +breathe! to exercise! Above all, what a place from which +to see! With the night wind in his hair, and swelling the +big shirt, Johnnie stood, high and lonely, like Crusoe on +his island, looking up and around, enchanted.</p> + +<p>How much sky there was!—joined to his own square. +The clouds, enormous and beautiful, had plenty of space +in which to drift about, by turns hiding and uncovering +the stars. Lifted almost into those clouds were the spars +of ships, the tallest of the city's buildings, the black lace-work +of two bridges. Oh, how big, how strange—yes, and +even how far removed—seemed this New York of the +night!</p> + +<p>When he could say good-by to the flat for the last time, +could leave it behind him forever, oh, how many sights +there would be for him to see in this great city! "I'll +just go and go!" he promised himself. "In ev'ry direction! +And look and look and look!" Going had brought +him One-Eye's friendship, and Mr. Perkins's. Somewhere +in all those miles of roofs were other friends, just waiting +to be found.</p> + +<p>The cold in the night wind cut short his reflections. He +fell to exercising, and drinking in big draughts of the sea +air; then hastened down on soft foot to his bed. Cis was +waiting in her door to see him come, and he knew she had +been anxious, and thoroughly resented it.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hurt the old roof," he whispered. But he felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a><a href="images/178.png">[178]</a></span> +very happy, in spite of his irritation, and genuinely sorry +for any boy who did not have a roof.</p> + +<p>Every morning now he enjoyed his splash in the tub; +every night he glorified in his taste of the real outdoors. +On the following Sunday, he combined the two pleasures. +Big Tom was in and out all day, making it impossible for +Johnnie to bathe even in the seclusion of Cis's tiny room, +which she generously offered to loan him for the ceremony. +He did not accept her offer. He was as sure as +ever that Barber would not only put a stop to all baths +if he discovered they were being taken (on the ground +that they used up too much soap), but the longshoreman +might go further, and administer punishment which would +be particularly trying—with Johnnie in a clothesless condition.</p> + +<p>He waited for nightfall. The day was unseasonably +warm. By sundown the patch of sky framed by the window +was solidly overlaid with clouds, among which the +thunder was rolling. A shower was brewing, and Johnnie +had an idea. He took the soap and a wash rag to bed +with him.</p> + +<p>The others were asleep when the storm broke. But +Johnnie was just inside the little house on the roof, shedding +his clothes under cover. As the rain came lashing +upon the warm, painted tin, he rushed forth into it, letting +it whip his bare skin as he soaped and rubbed.</p> + +<p>It was glorious! And though he dared not shout, he +leaped hither and thither in an excess of joy, and did his +calisthenics, the lightning flashing him into his own sight. +And he took in from the rain, through tossing arms and +legs, the electricity that he lacked—cut off as he had been +so long from even the touch of a pavement.</p> + +<p>Next, naked though he was, he played scout; and as +he romped other scouts came to romp with him, dropping +over the edge of the roof in all directions, or popping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a><a href="images/179.png">[179]</a></span> +out from behind the chimney and the little house. And +all were as naked as he, and as full of joy, and they +danced in a circle with him, and marched, and went +through the exercises.</p> + +<p>When at last his yellow hair was streaming, and his +breath was spent, he dried himself, standing on the stairs, +and using the long tails of the big shirt; then, trousered +once more, he crept down and in, to sleep an unbroken, +dreamless sleep, wrapped from head to toe in just nothing +but his quilt. Only his small unfreckled nose showed, +drawing in the rain-washed breeze that came swirling upon +his bed through the open window.</p> + +<p>"It's my beach!" he told Cis proudly the next morning. +"I waded—honest, I did! And I pretty near <i>swimmed!</i>"</p> + +<p>He felt stronger, and consequently did not hate his +housework so much. As for his appearance, Mr. Perkins +was more than ever struck with its improvement when he +saw Johnnie again; also, the leader was a trifle puzzled. +But other things than breathing and bathing and exercises +were helping Johnnie. He had something to look +forward to now—a goal. Indeed, the greater part of his +betterment was the result of that fresh interest Mr. +Perkins had given him, his pride, and his hope.</p> + +<p>"But I'd like t' learn more things 'bout scouts," he +told the leader. "Is all I have t' do jus' git strong and +grow t' be twelve?"</p> + +<p>"Steady, old man!" counseled Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>He failed to see, he said, that Johnnie's teeth looked +any whiter. He acted almost as if he doubted Johnnie's +use of the brush. Luckily Johnnie remembered that meeting +which Cis had proposed, and this served to change the +subject. By advice from Cis, later on, he was insured +against Mr. Perkins's being so disappointed again. Cis +gave him some powder; and he got fair results from her +old brush.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a><a href="images/180.png">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>So far as he was concerned, the meeting between Cis +and Mr. Perkins proved utterly profitless. To begin with, +in his pride and excitement, he forgot to follow out her +instructions regarding the introduction. Instead of pronouncing +the two names politely, he ran to Cis, and "Here +he is!" he cried. "This is him! Mister Perkins!"</p> + +<p>She stood against the hall door, smiling shyly. Mr. +Perkins rose, looking more red than brown, and gave her +a soldierly bow, though that day he was not wearing a +uniform, but a gray business suit.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to meet you," he said. "Johnnie's told +me so much about you."</p> + +<p>"I—I've got to go right back," was what she said. +"Two of the girls 're waiting for me downstairs."</p> + +<p>"Aw, Cis!" pleaded Johnnie. "Wait! Ain't y' goin' +t' exercise with us?"</p> + +<p>She went. And though she darted a smile at their visitor, +to Johnnie she seemed all indifference, and he was +staggered by it; only to be more than gratified by her +complete change of attitude when she got home at suppertime. +"Oh, he's handsome!" she declared. "My! The +girls wouldn't believe how noble and splendid he is! He +just can't be as young as you say, Johnnie, because he's +been a soldier in the big war! I know it by that little +button-thing in his coat! Oh, Johnnie, he's nicer than +you said! Thousands and thousands of times!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie swaggered a bit over that. "<i>All</i> my friends is +nice," he observed. "Only I wish I could have One-Eye +and Mr. Perkins here both at the same time!"</p> + +<p>He had to give a minute account of Mr. Perkins's visit, +and not once, but as often as he could manage to go over +the subject before Big Tom came in. After supper, as +they hung in the window together, looking up at the night +sky, he had to review all previous visits, as well as that +memorable, history-making meeting under the Elevated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a><a href="images/181.png">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's like a young gentleman in a story!" she whispered. +"And he's awful stylish! Did you notice?—his handkerchief +to-day had a teeny brown edge to it!"</p> + +<p>In the morning, she did an unprecedented thing: rose +earlier than usual and helped Johnnie set the flat to rights. +The dish cupboard came in for the most of her attention, +a fact which brought loud protests from him, for she +used up the whole of Mr. Maloney's precious newspapers, +this in making fancifully cut covers for the shelves.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's look civilized!" she cried.</p> + +<p>She came home at noon, her girl friends accompanying +her, but waiting, as before, in the area. She was not so +shy as she had been the first day; instead, she was dignified +as she viewed the arm- and leg-work, praised Johnnie +with sweet condescension, and thanked Mr. Perkins for +all his trouble with quite a grown-up air.</p> + +<p>The noon following, she arrived alone (Mr. Perkins had +remarked the day previous that he would be coming regularly +now). As he had appeared early, and the exercising +was over and done, he and Cis went down the stairs together. +Johnnie stood outside the door to watch them, +and marveled as he watched. When had he ever seen Cis +smile so much? chatter so freely? Now she did not seem +afraid of Mr. Perkins at all!</p> + +<p>In the hall overhead some one else was watching—Mrs. +Kukor. As he looked up, she nodded at him. "Ah-ha-a-a-a!" +she whispered, and laid one finger along her nose +mysteriously. Johnnie understood that she was thinking +of Big Tom. He nodded back, and put a finger to his lips.</p> + +<p>All that afternoon he was so proud, just thinking of Cis +threading the crowds with Mr. Perkins at her side. Yet +she herself was evidently not impressed by the great compliment +the leader had paid her. For the next day she +did not invite a similar experience by coming home at +noon; nor the next. In fact, she never again dropped in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a><a href="images/182.png">[182]</a></span> +to see the drill. She had lost interest in it, she told +Johnnie—which was natural enough, seeing that she was +a girl.</p> + +<p>But! She seemed also to have completely lost all +interest in Mr. Perkins!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a><a href="images/183.png">[183]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A DIFFERENT CIS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">BUT for some reason which Johnnie could not +fathom, Cis suddenly began to show a great deal +of interest in the flat. Indeed, she was by way +of making his life miserable, what with her constant warnings +and instructions about keeping the rooms neat and +clean. And she proved that her concern was genuine by +continuing to rise early each day in order to help him +with the housework.</p> + +<p>In her own tiny closet she brought about a really +magnificent improvement. This took place mainly on +Decoration Day, a day which, just because of its name, +Johnnie regarded as particularly suitable for the happy +task in hand. Cis's ceiling and walls had never been +papered (she explained this by pointing out that paper +would only have made the little cubby-hole just that much +smaller, and there was not even a mite of room to spare). +By dint of extra violet-making, she bought a can of paint +and a brush. Then borrowing a ladder from the janitress, +she first cleared her bedroom of its contents, and next +wiped every inch of plaster—sides and top—by means +of a rag tied over the end of the broom. After that, in +her oldest dress, with her head wrapped up, she tinted her +retreat, the mop-boards included, a delicate blue.</p> + +<p>Now, however, she was far from done. The paint dry, +she restored her two pieces of furniture to their rightful +places. The dressing-table box she skirted with cheese<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a><a href="images/184.png">[184]</a></span>cloth +dipped in blued starch; and covered the top of it with +a roll of crinkly, flower-sprinkled tissue paper. To the +general effect, her cretonne-encased pillow gave the final +touch. It was Johnnie's opinion that the pillow was one +of the most beautiful things in New York. When it +was stood up stiffly against the wall at the end of the +narrow bed shelf; when the picture of Colonel Roosevelt +was again in its place of honor beside the bit of mirror, +with the handsome Edwarda leaned negligently just +beneath; and when Cis had lavished upon her bed and box +the delicious scent of a whole nickel's-worth of orris root, +Johnnie, wildly enthused, signaled the flat above.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet there ain't any room that's nicer'n this in the +whole Waldorf 'Storia!" he vowed to the little Jewish lady +when she came rocking down to marvel over the transformation, +hands uplifted, head wagging. "Don't you +think it's fine, Mrs. Kukor? and don't it smell 'zac'ly like +Mrs. Reisenberger?"</p> + +<p>"Pos-i-tivvle!" agreed Mrs. Kukor.</p> + +<p>Next, in her housewifely zeal, Cis started in to improve +the kitchen. Keeping the ladder an extra day by special +permission she climbed it to wash the eight small panes +of the window, after which she hung at either side of them +a strip of the blue-tinted cheesecloth. But when Barber +saw the curtains, he called them "tomfoolery," and tore +them down. So nothing happened to the rest of the flat.</p> + +<p>That rebuke of Barber's seemed to deflect Cis's interest +from the rooms to herself. For now upon her own person +she wrought improvements. These did not escape Johnnie, +who accepted them as a part of the general upheaval—an +upheaval which she informed him was "Spring cleaning." +Each night before retiring she pressed her one dress, and +freshened its washable collar; she also brushed her hair +a full hundred times, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'conscientously'">conscientiously</ins> counting the strokes. +As for her teeth, Johnnie warned her that she would wear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a><a href="images/185.png">[185]</a></span> +out both them and the ivory-handled brush in no time, +since, night and morning, she used the brush tirelessly. +Also she wasted valuable hours (in his opinion) by manicuring +her fingernails when she might better have been +threading a kitchen jungle all beast-infested.</p> + +<p>Next, another, and the most startling change in her. +She came out of her blue room one morning looking very +tall, and odd. At first Johnnie did not see what was +wrong, and stared, puzzled and bewildered.</p> + +<p>But Barber saw. "What's the idea?" he wanted to +know, and none too pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm almost seventeen," Cis answered.</p> + +<p>Almost seventeen! Johnnie looked at her closer, and +discovered the thing that made her different. It was her +hair. Usually she wore it braided, and tied at the nape of +her neck. But now that shining braid was pinned in a +coil on the back of her head!</p> + +<p>"Y' look foolish!" went on Barber. "And y' can't +waste any more money 'round here, buyin' pins and combs +and such stuff. Y' can jus' wear it down your back for +another year or so."</p> + +<p>"All the other girls have their hair up," she argued. +"And I've got to have mine out of the way."</p> + +<p>She did not take that coil down. Yet she was by no +means indifferent to the attitude of Big Tom. Johnnie, +who understood so well her every expression, noticed how, +when the longshoreman sometimes entered unexpectedly, +Cis would go whiter than usual, as if frightened; she +would start at the mere sound of his voice, and drop +whatever happened to be in her hand.</p> + +<p>When Big Tom was out she would walk about aimlessly +and restlessly; would halt absentmindedly with her face +to a wall and not seem to see it. She did not want to +talk; she preferred to be let completely alone. She was +irritable, or she sighed a good deal. She took to watching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a><a href="images/186.png">[186]</a></span> +the clock, and wishing it were to-morrow morning. And +if, giving in to Johnnie's entreaties, she consented to take +part in a think, all she cared to do was bury the unhappy +Cora, or watch lovely, and love-smitten, Elaine breathe +her last.</p> + +<p>At other times she laughed as she had never laughed +before in all the five years or more that Johnnie had lived +in the Barber flat; and broke out in jolly choruses. If +Big Tom came in, she did not stop singing until he bade +her to, and the moment he was gone, she was at it again, +with a few dance steps thrown in, the blue eyes sparkling +mischievously, and dimples showing in cheeks that were +pink.</p> + +<p>She also had dreamy spells; and if left undisturbed +would sit at the window by the hour, her eyes on the sky, +her slender hands clasped, a smile, sweet and gentle, fixing +her young mouth. And Johnnie knew by that smile that +she was thinking thinks—that the kitchen was occupied by +people whom he did not see. He guessed that one of these +was of Royal blood; and came to harbor hostile thoughts +toward a certain young Prince, since never before had +Cis failed to share her visions with Johnnie. For the +first time he found himself shut out.</p> + +<p>Once he caught her talking out loud. "I wish," she +murmured, "I wish, I wish—"</p> + +<p>"Who're you talkin' to?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She started, and blushed. "Why—why, I'm talking to +you," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what is it y' wish?" he persisted. "Go +ahead. I'm listenin'."</p> + +<p>But it had slipped her mind, she said crossly. Yet +the next moment, in an excess of regret and affection, +"Oh, Johnnie, you're so dear! So dear!" she told him, +and gave him a good hug.</p> + +<p>He worried about her not a little those days; and though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a><a href="images/187.png">[187]</a></span> +from a natural delicacy he did not discuss her with Mr. +Perkins, he did ask the leader an anxious question: "Could +a girl be hurt by pinnin' a hot wad of braid right against +the back of her brain?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins looked surprised. "They all do it," he +pointed out. (Evidently he did not surmise whom Johnnie +had in mind.)</p> + +<p>"But s'pose a girl ain't used to it," pressed Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"They get used to it," assured Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>But Cis got worse and worse. One day soon after this, +Johnnie came upon Edwarda, face down on the blue-room +floor, and in a harrowing state of dishevelment—Edwarda, +the costly, the precious, the not-to-be-touched! And +when, on Cis's return, he tested her affection for the new +doll by swinging it unceremoniously by one leg in Letitia +fashion, "Don't break her," Cis cautioned indifferently; +"because I'm going to give her away one of these days to +some poor little girl."</p> + +<p>He gasped. She was going to give away <i>His namesake!</i></p> + +<p>Then his eyes were opened, and he found out the whole +sad truth—this one Sunday afternoon. Big Tom was +out, and Cis was more restless than usual. She would not +hunt in goat skins with Johnnie and Crusoe, nor capture +the drifting <i>Hispaniola</i> along with Jim Hawkins. She +had no taste even for a lively massacre. And as Johnnie +was equally determined neither to bury Cora again nor +float upon a death barge with the Maid of Astolat, they +compromised upon Aladdin and the Princess Buddir al +Buddoor.</p> + +<p>The occasion selected was that certain momentous +visit to the bath, with Aladdin and Johnnie placed behind +a door in order to catch a glimpse of the royal lady's face +as she came by. Cis was in attendance upon the Princess, +the dismantled blue cotton curtains trailing grandly behind +her and getting trodden upon by the Grand Vizier (in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a><a href="images/188.png">[188]</a></span> +wheel chair). A great crowd of ladies and slaves surrounded +these celebrities as they wound through silent +streets, between shops filled with silks and jewels and luscious +fruits. The air was heavy with perfume. David, +Goliath and Buckle bore aloft palms with which they +stirred this scented breeze. Going on before, were the +four millionaires, likewise a band dispensing music——</p> + +<p>It happened—even as the Princess lifted the mist of her +veil to display her sweet, pale beauty. Cis came short +unexpectedly. A strange, sorrowful, and almost frightened +look was in her blue eyes. She held out helpless, +trembling hands to Johnnie. "Oh, what's the use of my +trying to pretend?" she cried. "Johnnie, I can't see them +any more! I can't see them! I can't see them!"</p> + +<p>Then, a burst of weeping. Old Grandpa also began to +weep. At that Cis stumbled toward the door of her room, +colliding on the way with the end of the cookstove, since +one slender arm was across her eyes, and shut herself +from sight. For some minutes after that the sound of +her muffled sobbing came from that closet over which she +had so recently been proudly happy.</p> + +<p>Johnnie first quieted the little old soldier by rolling him +to and fro between Albany and Pittsburgh. Then he +went to stand at Cis's door, where he listened, his head +bent, his heart full of tender concern. Very wisely he +said nothing, asked no questions. It was not till the sobbing +ceased that he strove to comfort her by his loving, +awkward, boyish attentions.</p> + +<p>"Cis, can't I fetch y' a cup of nice, sugared cold tea?" +he called in. "'R a saucer with some hot beans?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she quavered.</p> + +<p>Now he knew what had brought about all those differences +in her; he understood what her grief was about. It +was indeed the hair. Yet the hair was only an outward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a><a href="images/189.png">[189]</a></span> +sign of the hidden tragedy—which was that, for good and +all, for ever and ever, she was to be shut out from all +wonderful, living, thrilling thinks.</p> + +<p>"She's gittin' grown-up," he told himself sorrowfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a><a href="images/190.png">[190]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>THE HANDBOOK</h3> + + +<p class="cap">OUT of a hip-pocket one morning Mr. Perkins produced +a book—a small, limp, gray-colored volume +upon the cover of which were two bare-kneed +boy scouts, one of whom was waving a pair of flags. +Also on that cover, near its top, were the words, <i>Boy +Scouts of America</i>. "I wonder if you wouldn't like to +look through this," he observed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gee!" Up from the sagging neckband of the big +shirt swept the red of joy, and out leaped Johnnie's +hands. "Does this tell all 'bout 'em, Mister Perkins? +And, my goodness, don't I wish you could leave it here +over night!" For some time he had been feeling that +there was a lack of variety in his long program of preparation +to be a scout; but here was something more definite +than just the taking of a bath or the regular working +of his muscles.</p> + +<p>"I'm giving it to you," explained Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Johnnie pinched the gray book hard. "It's +my own? Aw, thank y'! And ain't I lucky, though! +This is seven I got now, countin' the d'rect'ry! And I'll +learn ev'ry word in this one, Mister Perkins!"</p> + +<p>To emphasize this determination to be thorough, before +they started to look through the handbook he had to +know all there was to tell about the picture on the front +cover. "What's this one kid standin' on?" he asked. "And +what's the scraggly thing behind him? And what's the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a><a href="images/191.png">[191]</a></span> +other boy holdin' against his eyes? And what country do +the flags belong t'?"</p> + +<p>When at last Mr. Perkins began to turn the pages, he +went too fast to suit Johnnie, who was anxious not to pass +over any scrap of scout knowledge, hated to skip even a +sentence, and wanted full time on each engrossing picture. +They touched on the aim of the scout movement, the knowledge +all scouts should have, their daily good turns (an +interesting subject!), their characteristics, how troops +are formed and led, the scout oath, and the laws. This +brought them to merit badges, which proved so attractive +a topic, yet discouraged Johnnie so sadly at the first, that +they got no farther.</p> + +<p>Johnnie was cast down because, on looking into the +badge question, he believed he could never qualify for merit +in any particular line. For certainly he knew nothing +about Agriculture, or Angling, Archery, Architecture, +Art, Astronomy, Athletics, Automobiling, or Aviation. +"And so I don't see how I'll ever be a merit-badger," he +told Mr. Perkins wistfully, when he had gone through the +list of the A's.</p> + +<p>Sometimes of late, in Johnnie's opinion, the scout leader +had seemed to be as absentminded as Cis; and now he was +evidently not thinking of the matter in hand, for he asked +a question which appeared to have nothing whatever to do +with merit badges. Also, it was a most embarrassing question, +since it concerned a fact which Johnnie had been +careful, all these past weeks, to suppress. "Can you +cook?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>For a moment Johnnie did not answer, being divided +in his mind as to what to say, but sat, his very breath suspended, +searching a way out of his dilemma. Then he +remembered the laws Mr. Perkins had just read to him—in +particular he remembered one which deplored the telling +of lies. He understood that he must live up to that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a><a href="images/192.png">[192]</a></span> +law if he were ever to hold any badge he might be able to +earn. "I—I help out Cis sometimes," he admitted. "Y' +see, she goes t' the fac'try awful early. And—and if I +didn't know how t' cook, why, maybe—if I was t' go 'way +from here—maybe I'd almost starve t' death."</p> + +<p>"At the same time," reminded Mr. Perkins, "you're doing +Miss Narcissa a daily good turn."</p> + +<p>That aspect of the matter had not occurred to Johnnie, +who at once felt considerably better. "And also I earn +my keep," he added proudly.</p> + +<p>"Earning your keep comes under the ninth law," pointed +out Mr. Perkins. "A scout is thrifty. He pays his own +way."</p> + +<p>Now the leader seemed to be in the proper mood to hear +even the worst, and this Johnnie decided to admit. +"I—I sweep, too," he confessed; "and make beds, and—and +wash dishes." Then he set his small jaws and waited, +for the other was again thoughtfully turning the pages +of the book. He could hear the hard thump-thumping of +his own heart. He began to wish that he had not been +tempted to tell. He saw himself forever barred out of +those ranks he so yearned to join just because he had +been guilty of doing girl's work.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins stopped turning pages and looked up with +a smile. "With some study, you might be able to get the +Personal Health Badge," he said; "but I guess, after all, +that the easiest one for you will be the merit badge for +cooking."</p> + +<p><i>The merit badge for cooking?</i> Then without a doubt +cooking was something which boy scouts deigned to do! +And it was not just girl's work! Nor did he have to be +ashamed because he did it! On the contrary, he could be +proud of his knowledge! could even win honors with it! Oh, +what a difference all this made!</p> + +<p>Something began to happen to the amazed Johnnie. Re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a><a href="images/193.png">[193]</a></span>lieved +at the thought that he was neither to be dropped +nor despised for his kitchen work, happy with the realization +that he was not unlike those boys of the never-to-be-forgotten +marching twos, suddenly he felt a change of +attitude toward cooking. What he had hated so long now +did not seem hateful. "I can cook mush," he boasted with +satisfaction, "and meat, and beans, and potatoes, and cabbage, +and biscuits and gravy, and tea and coffee, and—and +prunes."</p> + +<p>"Great!" said Mr. Perkins. "I don't believe one of my +scouts can cook as well as you can. Why, you're <i>sure</i> +to get your badge on that list of yours!" And pointing +to a small and very black picture at the middle of a page, +"This is the device," he explained. "When a boy gets it, +he's allowed to wear it on his blouse."</p> + +<p>Johnnie looked. And looked closer. Next, to make certain +that he was not mistaken, he pinned the picture with +a calloused forefinger. "A—a kettle?" he asked incredulously. +"Scouts wear a pitcher of a—a <i>kettle?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Dandy idea, isn't it?" returned Mr. Perkins; "—the +big, black, iron kettle that soldiers and miners and hunters +have used for hundreds of years! Like yours over +there!"</p> + +<p>Slowly Johnnie faced round. On the back of the stove +was the bean-kettle, big, black and of iron, heavy to lift, +hard to wash, and for years—by Cis as well as Johnnie—cordially +loathed. "Soldiers and miners and hunters," he +repeated, as if to himself; "and scout kids wear pitchers +of 'em." That remarkable change of attitude of his now +included the kettle. He knew that he would never again +hate it. When he turned back to the leader, he was his +old confident self. "Do boy scouts ever wear aprons?" he +inquired. "And does anybody laugh at 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Laugh?" said Mr. Perkins. "They do not! When a +scout's round the house like you are, helping his mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a><a href="images/194.png">[194]</a></span> +perhaps, he puts on an apron if he's smart. Remember +that thrifty law? Well, a boy mustn't ruin his clothes. +Out on the hike, of course, where there aren't any aprons, +he generally uses a piece of sacking—especially when he's +washing dishes." Then, opening the little book again, +"Here are directions for dish washing," he added.</p> + +<p>As before Johnnie stared while he used a forefinger. +Directions for dish washing? in the scouts' own book? +Would wonders never cease? Then without a doubt this +newest possession of his contained many another unsuspected +salve to his pride. "My goodness!" he exclaimed +happily, "what all more is there in here 'bout cookin'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's a recipe for griddle cakes, and bacon, and +salmon on toast," said Mr. Perkins; "also roast potatoes, +and baked fish, and hunter's stew. But eggs and biscuits, +of course, you know."</p> + +<p>After an hour of that kind, it was quite natural that +Johnnie, when he found himself alone again, should +straightway devise a cooking think—and this for the first +time in his life. He saw himself in the center of a great +group of splendidly uniformed scouts, all of whom were +nearly famished. He was uniformed, too; and he was +preparing a meal which consisted of everything edible +described in the Scouts' book. And as he mixed and stirred +and tasted, his companions proclaimed him a marvel, while +proudly upon his breast he displayed that device of the +kettle.</p> + +<p>Till the clock warned him at five that it was time to get +ready for Big Tom, the Handbook was not out of his +hands. To a boy who had made easy reading even of <i>The +Last of the Mohicans</i>, Mr. Perkins's present offered few +problems. There was not a little in what he read that, +cooped up as he had been during the last five years, he +did not understand. But starting at the first page, and +eating his way through the first chapter, not missing one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a><a href="images/195.png">[195]</a></span> +of the paragraphs skipped during the morning, studying +each illustration thoroughly, and absorbing both pictures +and print like a sponge, he got a very real glimmering of +what it meant to a boy to be a scout; and not only so far +as the body, its strength and its growth, was concerned, +but also in relation to character. And just that first +chapter made him understand that there was, indeed, +something more to scouting than looking plump-chested, +having good blood, and cultivating strong muscles.</p> + +<p>That evening supper achieved a dignity and a pleasure. +Glad now that he knew how to get a meal, he baked potatoes, +made biscuits and gravy, and boiled coffee. He realized +that Big Tom would enjoy such a good supper, and +this, of course, was a decided drawback. Yet the fact remained +that if he (Johnnie) was to win a badge by his +cooking, the longshoreman must profit. It could not be +helped. He set about preparing a dessert—an unheard-of +climax to any previous evening meal. Fashioning small +containers of some biscuit dough, he first put the pulp of +some cooked prunes through the tea strainer—then filled +the containers with the sweetened fruit and baked them. +All the while he visioned Cis's surprise and delight over +the tarts. He even anticipated some complimentary remark +from Big Tom.</p> + +<p>"I'll get a merit badge," he vowed, "even if I have t' do +a lot o' things I hate!"</p> + +<p>Luckily Cis arrived ahead of her stepfather. Having +borrowed Grandpa's Grand Army hat, Johnnie greeted +her, first with a snappy salute; after that he bowed and +bared his head as if to the Queen or the Princess Buddir al +Buddoor—all this as per an illustration in his book which +showed a scout uncovering to an elderly lady in a three-cornered +shawl. "A scout's always p'lite t' women and +children," he explained as he offered her the kitchen chair. +"And some day Boof is goin' t' go mad, and I'm goin' t'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a><a href="images/196.png">[196]</a></span> +protect y' from him! There's a pitcher in my new book +that shows how t' do it!"</p> + +<p>He showed her his new present. However, she gave it +only a glance, exactly as if she had seen it before. She +rarely even mentioned Mr. Perkins any more, and now only +remarked that to have given Johnnie the book "was nice of +him," adding that sport socks which showed a boy's knees +(she was referring to the cover of the Handbook) were "as +stylish as Fifth Avenue."</p> + +<p>With Johnnie bustling hither and thither in a proud +and entirely willing manner, the longshoreman could not +fail to remark a new spirit in the flat. But in spite of the +well-cooked, tasty meal, Big Tom was not moved to speak +any appreciation.</p> + +<p>After a time, Johnnie decided to invite a comment. "I +made y' biscuits and gravy again," he pointed out.</p> + +<p>"It's about time," returned Barber.</p> + +<p>Biscuits and gravy, however, were an established combination. +The desired effect, then, might better be gotten +with something never before served. "And I fixed somethin' +for y' t' finish up on," he announced. Then opening +the oven door to display the browning prune tarts, +"Lookee! Baby pies!"</p> + +<p>"Mm!" breathed Big Tom, suspicion flashing whitely in +that left eye. "You're gittin' too good t' live! What y' +been doin' t'-day? Breakin' somethin'?" But later he +ate four of the little confections with loud smacks.</p> + +<p>Johnnie, standing at his plate (as he had always stood +at it since coming to the flat, for there was no chair for +him), ate his own small pie and cogitated philosophically. +Big Tom had not repaid a good turn with gratitude. But +then at least he had been no uglier than usual; had not +stormed about wasting biscuit dough and sugar, as he +might easily have done. He had been just his ordinary +self, which was something to be thankful for.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a><a href="images/197.png">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would y' bring home a can of salmon fish for t'morrow +supper when y' come in t'night?" Johnnie asked. +(He longed to try that scout recipe!)</p> + +<p>To that, Barber did not commit himself.</p> + +<p>When Johnnie and Cis were left alone, old Grandpa being +already abed, Johnnie did not try to win her interest +in the Handbook, or share with her the new and absorbing +thinks it inspired. Since that unhappy ending to the procession +of the bath, with its wailing protest, and its tears, +with nice consideration he had not again so much as +broached a pretend to her. She sat at the window in the +warm twilight, busy—or so it seemed—with her fingernails, +which these days consumed a great deal of her time. +Johnnie took down the clothesline and fell to making +Knots Every Scout Should Know.</p> + +<p>But that night on the roof! What a revel there was of +brave scout doings, of gentlemanly conduct!—all witnessed +by a large, fat moon. He wigwagged messages of great +portent to phantom scouts who were in dire need. He +helped blind men across streets that ran down the whole +length of the roof. He held back pressing crowds while +the police were rendered speechless with admiration. He +swept off his scout headgear to scores of motherly ladies +in three-cornered shawls; wrapped up the sore paws of +stray dogs; soothed weeping children; straightened the +blankets on numbers of storm-blown horses standing +humped against the bitter wind and rain; and pointed out +the right road to many a laden and bewhiskered traveler.</p> + +<p>But when his bed claimed him, and he was free to do a +little quiet thinking, it occurred to him that he had not +strung a single bead that day, nor made one violet. Did +this not number him among the breakers of that first law?—"by +not doing exactly a given task." There was not +the least doubt of it! "My!" he exclaimed. "I'm 'fraid +them laws 're goin' t' be a' awful bother!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a><a href="images/198.png">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the following day, he did not fail to keep +them in mind. Though Barber had so ill repaid his efforts +to please, though no can of salmon had been forthcoming +as requested, he did not punish the longshoreman that +morning. Life seemed very full to him now, what with his +regular duties and the fresh obligations laid upon him by +the Handbook.</p> + +<p>He skimped nothing. What did the housework amount +to, now that he felt a sudden liking for it? And he found +that he could memorize the laws while he was stringing +beads. When he paused, either in one line of effort or the +other, it was to do a good turn: put crumbs on the window +sill for the sparrows, feed Boof, take Mrs. Kukor up +one of the small pies (lifting off Grandpa's hat to her at +the door), and give the little old veteran not one, but +several, short railway journeys. And all the while he made +sure, by the help of Cis's mirror, that his mouth was turned +up at each end like a true scout's mouth should be.</p> + +<p>"I got t' git my lips used to it," he declared, "so's they'll +stay put."</p> + +<p>And the things he did not do! For example, he discontinued +his clothesline telephone service; for another, he +wasted no minute by introducing into the kitchen territory +either foreign or domestic. For he was experiencing the +high joy of being excessively good. Indeed, and for the +first time in his life, he was being so good that it was almost +painful.</p> + +<p>Finding Johnnie in this truly angelic state of mind +when he arrived, Mr. Perkins grasped his opportunity, +skipped all the chapters of the Handbook till he came to +that one touching upon chivalry, and sat down with Johnnie +to review it. And what a joy it proved to the new +convert to find in those pages his old friends King Arthur +and Sir Launcelot, together with Galahad, Gareth, Bedivere +and all the others! and to make the acquaintance of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a><a href="images/199.png">[199]</a></span> +Alfred the Great, the Pilgrim Fathers, the pioneers, and +Mr. Lincoln!—especially Mr. Lincoln, that boy who had +traveled from a log cabin to the White House!</p> + +<p>"And I'll tell y' what!" he vowed, when Mr. Perkins +rose to take his leave, "I've made up my mind what I'm +goin' t' be when I grow up. I've thought 'bout a lot of +things, but this time I'm sure! Mister Perkins, I'm goin' +t' try t' be President of the United States!"</p> + +<p>Later on, he made a second vow to himself. "Good +turns for Grandpa don't 'mount t' much," he declared. +"He's so handy as a good-turner. So I'm goin' t' do one +that'll count. I'm goin' t' good-turn Big Tom!"</p> + +<p>He took down the bag of dried beans from the cupboard +and searched out certain nine small buttons. From time +to time, in the past, he had, on what he felt was just provocation, +subtracted these nine buttons from Big Tom's +shirts. Now with painstaking effort, pricking his fingers +many times, he sewed the buttons back where they belonged. +The task finished, he was in nothing short of an exalted +state of mind. So that again for supper he made biscuits +and gravy.</p> + +<p>Then came the bombshell. It was Big Tom who cast it, +figuratively speaking, among the supper plates. He had +come scuffing his way in, his look roving and suspicious—if +not a little apprehensive. But what he had to say he +had saved, as was his habit, for meal time. "Sa-a-ay!" he +began, helping himself to a generous portion of his favorite +dish; "who's that dude that's been hangin' 'round here +lately?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie's tongue felt numb, and his throat dry. He +thought of the laws, hoping he might remember one that +would help him. He could remember nothing. There was +a spy in the house—a spy as evil as Magua. And that spy +deserved to be killed. He resolved that, later on, up on +the roof, he would have a splendid execution.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a><a href="images/200.png">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile Cis had come to the rescue. "You mean Mr. +Perkins, the scoutmaster?" she asked. She was white, +Johnnie noticed, and did not look at Barber.</p> + +<p>"Scoutmaster!" repeated the longshoreman. "So that's +it, is it? I guessed you was up to some deviltry!"—this +to Johnnie. "And let me tell you somethin': none of them +crazy idears 'round here! D' y' understand?" (This was +how much he appreciated biscuits and gravy!)</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," murmured Johnnie. But he thought what a +pity it was that some one had not made a scout out of +Big Tom.</p> + +<p>"None o' that foolish business," went on Barber; then to +Cis, noticing her paleness, perhaps. "What's eatin' <i>you?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I feel tired to-night," she answered weakly.</p> + +<p>"Go t' bed."</p> + +<p>She went, and as if she was grateful to get away, though +the sun was still shining on the roofs of the houses opposite. +She did not even glance at Johnnie, and shut herself +in.</p> + +<p>"What time t'morrow will that guy come?" the longshoreman +wanted to know as soon as Cis was gone.</p> + +<p>"'Bout 'leven." Johnnie could not help but wonder how +he was ever to get on if the laws bound him so tight to +the truth, and the truth would prove the undoing, the +wrecking of all his dearest plans.</p> + +<p>"'Leven," mused Barber. "Hm!—Well, y' needn't t' +put up no lunch for me in the mornin'. I'll come home for +it. I jus' want t' take a look at that scout gent."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a><a href="images/201.png">[201]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE MEETING</h3> + + +<p class="cap">A TERRIBLE dread filled Johnnie's heart—that +heart which had always known so much dread. It +took away his desire to go upon the roof; it kept +him awake long into the night, tugging at his hair, twisting +and turning upon his mattress, sighing, even weeping +a little out of sheer helplessness. Having his normal +amount of the reserve, dignity and pride that is childhood's, +his dread was not that Big Tom, when he returned +to meet Mr. Perkins, would be rude to the scoutmaster (it +did not occur to him that the longshoreman would dare +to go that far); it was that, in the presence of the new +friend whose good opinion Johnnie longed to keep, Barber +would order him around, jerk him by a sleeve, or shove +him rudely—treat him, in fact, with that lack of respect +which was usual, and thus mortify him.</p> + +<p>The full moon was again lifting above the city and +touching all the roofs with silver. From where he lay he +looked out and up, trying to forget his wretchedness, but +living the coming encounter again and again. His ears +grew hot as Barber seized one of them and wrung it, or +brushed his face with a hard, sweaty hand. Imagining insult +upon insult, his chest heaved and his wet eyes burned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, One-Eye!" he whispered to a dear image that +seemed to fill the morris chair, "if <i>you</i> was only here! Gee, +Big Tom never dast treat me bad before you!" It was not +that he felt for a moment that the cowboy was the better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a><a href="images/202.png">[202]</a></span> +friend of the two whom he revered and loved; they held +equal places in his affections. But Mr. Perkins was too +much of a gentleman to be awe-inspiring. The Westerner, +in his big hat and his hairy breeches, was the man to be +feared!</p> + +<p>At breakfast he was given no chance to talk matters +over with Cis. And she neither saw his signals nor heard +them, though he arranged both the stove and the table to +warn her that something had happened, and coughed +croupily till Barber told him roughly to shut up. He +comforted himself with reflecting that it would have done +him no good had they threshed the coming crisis out.</p> + +<p>It was a shaken, hollow-eyed, miserable, unbathed little +boy that greeted Mr. Perkins when the scoutmaster rapped. +And the sight of the latter only made Johnnie's +spirits sink lower. He had hoped with all his heart that +the leader would come in all the grandeur and pride of +his uniform; and here was Mr. Perkins in a light suit, a +straw hat, and white socks. The fact that he had on a +lavender tie and was carrying brown gloves made things +just that much worse. Steadily, during the past fortnight, +the scoutmaster had been dressing better and better. +This morning he was finer than ever before. It was +awful.</p> + +<p>"You'll see," mourned Johnnie, his eyes on the clock as +he talked. "He'll be awful mean t' me. Here he says I +can't listen t' scoutin' no more! N'r nothin'! Say, Mister +Perkins, if he shoves at me, would y' ever give him biscuits +and gravy again?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins thought it over. "Well, under the same +circumstances," he said finally, "what do you think Theodore +Roosevelt would do?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie could not decide. He felt that a look at the +picture would help. Hunting a match, he disappeared +into the blue room, struck a light, and gave the likeness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a><a href="images/203.png">[203]</a></span> +a searching look. "I don't 'xac'ly know," he declared +when he came out; "but, Mister Perkins, I b'lieve maybe +he'd just <i>lick</i> him!"</p> + +<p>A queer gleam came into those eyes which were a coffee-brown. +"I shouldn't be surprised," said Mr. Perkins, "if +that isn't precisely what the Colonel would do."</p> + +<p>The door opened. It was Big Tom. His cargo hook +hung round his great neck. His hat was pushed back, uncovering +a forehead seamed and sweaty. To Johnnie he +looked bigger and blacker than usual—this in comparison +with Mr. Perkins, so slim, if he was fully as tall as Barber, +and so immaculate, even dainty!</p> + +<p>The older man had an insolent smile in those prominent +eyes of his, and a sneer bared his tobacco-stained teeth. +Slamming the door, he came sauntering toward the scoutmaster, +who had risen; he halted without speaking, then +deliberately, impudently, he stared Mr. Perkins from head +to foot.</p> + +<p>The latter glanced back, and with much interest, not +staring, yet seeing what sort of looking man the longshoreman +was. To judge by the expression in the brown +eyes he did not like the kind. For suddenly his eyelids +narrowed, and the lines of his mouth set. "Introduce me, +Johnnie," he said.</p> + +<p>Anxious, alert, and not hopeful, Johnnie had been +watching the two, this from the farther side of the table, +so that he should not be handy in case his giant foster +father wanted to maul him. "This is Mister Barber," he +began, speaking the name as politely as he could, but forgetting +to complete the introduction.</p> + +<p>"Tommie's home! Tommie's home!" piped up old +Grandpa, suddenly waking from his morning nap, and evidently +not happy over his discovery.</p> + +<p>"My name is Perkins," said the scoutmaster to Barber.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a><a href="images/204.png">[204]</a></span> +He spoke courteously, but there was no cringing in his +manner.</p> + +<p>"Perkins, huh?" returned Barber, grinning. He was so +close to the other that they all but touched. "And when +did the cat bring <i>you</i> in?"</p> + +<p>In very horror those lead-pipe legs of Johnnie's almost +gave way beneath him, so that he clung to the table for +support. "Oh!" he breathed.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Perkins was smiling. "The cat brought me in +just before he brought you in," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>The reply wrought an instant and startling change in +Big Tom. The smile went from the bloodshot eyes, giving +place to that white flash of rage. The heavy nose gave a +quick twist. Every hair in the short beard seemed to +bristle. "Now there's somebody in this room that's gittin' +fresh," he observed; "and freshness from a kid is somethin' +I can't stand. I don't mention no name, but! If it happens +<i>again</i>"—he paused for emphasis—"I'll slap the fancy +eyeglasses right off his face!"</p> + +<p>There was a tense pause. The two at the center of +the room were gazing straight at each other; and it seemed +to Johnnie, wavering weakly against the table, that he +would die from fear.</p> + +<p>However, Mr. Perkins was not frightened. His hat +was in his left hand. He let it drop to the floor. But he +did not move back an inch, while those well-kept hands +curled themselves into knots so hard that their knuckles +were topped with white. "You wanted to see me?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Y're wrong!" declared Big Tom. "I didn't want t' see +y'. I had t' see y'."</p> + +<p>"I note the distinction," returned Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"Y' do! Well, just listen t' me a second," counseled +Barber, "before we git started on to what I've got t' say." +Now his anger flamed higher. He began to shake a big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a><a href="images/205.png">[205]</a></span> +finger. "Don't you put on no fancy airs with me! Y' +git that? For the good and simple reason that I won't +stand for 'em!" He chawed on nothing.</p> + +<p>"I was not aware that I <i>was</i> putting on any fancy airs," +answered Mr. Perkins. "Airs are something that I don't—waste."</p> + +<p>"Any high-falutin' stuff would be wasted 'round here," +went on Barber. "We're just plain, hard-workin', decent +people.—And now we'll git down to brass tacks." He +passed in front of Mr. Perkins and settled himself heavily +in the morris chair.</p> + +<p>The scoutmaster faced about, found the kitchen chair, +and sat. "I'm listening," he said. He was businesslike, +even cordial.</p> + +<p>"You seem t' hang 'round here about two-thirds of your +time," commented Big Tom, hunting his pipe.</p> + +<p>"No," contradicted Mr. Perkins, easily. "Lately, I've +been coming here one hour a day."</p> + +<p>"And just what's the idear?" The big fingers plucked +blindly at the strings of a tobacco-bag, for Big Tom did +not take his eyes from the younger man.</p> + +<p>"I've been giving the boy setting-up exercises," explained +Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"Y' have!"—sarcastically. "Ain't that sweet of y'!" +Then with an impatient gesture that scattered tobacco +upon the floor, "Exercises!" Big Tom cried wrathfully. +"<i>Exercises!</i> As if he can't git all the exercises he needs +by doin' his work! I have t' feed that kid, and feed costs +money. He knows that. And he earns. Because he ain't +no grafter."</p> + +<p>In sheer amazement, Johnnie's look strayed to Mr. Perkins. +He had expected mistreatment and insult for himself, +and here he was receiving praise!</p> + +<p>"There's a difference in exercising," said Mr. Perkins. +"Johnnie gets one kind while he's doing his work. But his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a><a href="images/206.png">[206]</a></span> +work is all inside work, out of the fresh air that every +boy needs. And certain of his muscles are not developed. +I've been correcting that undevelopment by giving him +the regular setting-up that we give all boy scouts."</p> + +<p>"Shucks, your boy scouts!" sneered Big Tom. "We got +no time for 'em. We're poor, and we're busy, and we got +a' old, sick man on our hands. That's scoutin' enough!"</p> + +<p>"Many men who have boys think as you do," acknowledged +Mr. Perkins, serenely. "That is, at first."</p> + +<p>"I think it first and second," returned Big Tom, raising +his voice. "And also I know it."</p> + +<p>"I promise you that it won't hurt Johnnie," urged the +scoutmaster.</p> + +<p>"Yeh? But I know what <i>would</i> hurt Johnnie, and that's +growin' up t' look like <i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>At that, Mr. Perkins burst out in a laugh. It was both +good-natured and amused. "Well, my looks suit me," he +declared.</p> + +<p>"Which is more'n <i>I</i> can say of 'em," retorted Barber. +"They don't suit me a <i>little</i> bit!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins laughed again. "Sorry," he said, but his +tone entirely contradicted his assertion.</p> + +<p>Barber kept on: "Your looks don't suit me, and neither +does your talk. You're altogether too slick, too pink-and-whity, +too eye-glassy, and purple-shirty, and cute-socky, +and girl-glovy."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"T' put it plainer, y' don't look t' me like a real man." +Out now came the underlip, threatening, aggressive.</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" Dire as the insult was, Mr. Perkins was +still smiling, was even a trifle bored. "And what kind of a +chap <i>do</i> you think is a real man?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody," answered Big Tom, "that's ev'rything you +ain't. Why, honest, you look too nice t' me t' be out in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a><a href="images/207.png">[207]</a></span> +bad weather. Y' know, one of these days you'll melt, 'r +git streaked."</p> + +<p>"Mm! Perhaps I'm too clean." Those coffee-colored +eyes were cool. With one swift up and down they examined +Big Tom's apparel.</p> + +<p>The longshoreman squirmed under the scrutiny. "Y' +don't look like y've ever done a lick of honest work in your +whole life!" he declared hotly. "Y' look like your pink +face was made o' dough, and the balance of y' out o' +putty! Y' look as if the calf'd licked y'!"</p> + +<p>Again that amused, bored smile. "No," said Mr. Perkins, +"that hasn't happened yet."</p> + +<p>"No? Well, y' never can tell. Y' <i>might</i> git licked by +somethin' <i>besides</i> a calf."</p> + +<p>Another of those pauses which seemed so terribly long +to Johnnie, and so fraught with direful possibilities. Then, +"I might," agreed the scoutmaster, carelessly; "but again +I—might not."</p> + +<p>Now Barber showed that he did not possess the self-control +that distinguished the younger man. His heavy, hair-rimmed +mouth working as if with unspoken words, he rose, +pocketed the pipe, and took a long step toward the table, +upon which he planted both his huge hands. As he leaned +there, it was plain that he longed for trouble. "I might +not!" he mocked, disgusted. "Sure, y' might! For the +reason that you ain't the kind that's got a wallop in your +fist!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins got up, too. But only as if it were the +well-bred thing to do. The bronze of his face was considerably +darker than usual; and his eyes were black, and +shone like great beads. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as amused as +ever. "Now I think I know what it is that you respect +most in men. Brute force. Am I right? Muscle! The +power to give a hard blow."</p> + +<p>"Dead right!" answered Barber, striking the table with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a><a href="images/208.png">[208]</a></span> +his open hand. "I hate a mollycoddle! a cutie! a reg'lar +<i>pill!</i>"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins nodded in the friendliest way. "So do I," +he declared heartily. "And that's just why I want to +train Johnnie's muscles, and teach him how to use his +hands."</p> + +<p>Big Tom straightened and went round the table. "I'll +train Johnnie's muscles," he said; "and I'll teach him what +t' do with his hands, too. And you keep your nose out of +it. Understand?" Then deliberately reaching out, with +one finger he gave Mr. Perkins a poke in the chest.</p> + +<p>That chest swelled under the neatly buttoned light coat. +Yet Mr. Perkins continued to smile. But he did not move +back by so much as an inch. And presently, with a low +"Bah!" of anger and disgust, the longshoreman loafed +away. "All right," he drawled, in a tone of dismissal; +"and now I'll ask for your room."</p> + +<p>"My room?" The scoutmaster did not appear to understand.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Yes!"—loudly, and facing round. "I'm askin' +y' not t' bother us any more this mornin' with your ever-lastin' +talk!"</p> + +<p>"Oh. You wish me to go." Mr. Perkins took up his +hat and gloves.</p> + +<p>"My, but you're smart!" exclaimed Barber, sarcastically. +"You can understand plain English!—Yes, <i>dear</i> +Mister Perkins, I mean that I don't want y' round." With +that he continued on to the hall door, and opened it. +"This way out," he said flippantly. The brown teeth +showed again.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins gave Johnnie a cheery smile. "Good-by, +old chap," he said. He went to the wheel chair and laid a +gentle hand on Grandpa's shoulder. "Good-by, Grandpa!"</p> + +<p>"Good-by, General!" quavered the old man. "Good-by!" +A shaking hand lifted in a salute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a><a href="images/209.png">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins gave Barber a courteous nod as he passed +him. "Good-by," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," returned Barber. "And good riddance!" +He slammed the door.</p> + +<p>Then something strange happened—something that had +never happened before. Without giving Johnnie a look, +Barber lifted down the lamp, lighted it, carried it into +Cis's room, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>Rooted to the floor, alert as any frightened mouse, +Johnnie listened. He could hear the longshoreman moving +about, and the scrape of the dressing-table box as it +was lifted from its place, then shoved back. What was +Barber hunting? Fortunately the books were wound up +in Johnnie's bedding, a precaution taken by their owner +in view of Barber's spoken determination to return and +take a look at Mr. Perkins. By any chance did the longshoreman +know about the Handbook? If he did, and if +he found it, what would happen then?</p> + +<p>After what seemed a long time, Barber appeared. Except +for the lamp, his hands were empty. He blew into +the top of the chimney and set the lamp back in its place. +"Tea," he ordered.</p> + +<p>Startled, Johnnie fairly rose into the air. When he +touched the floor again, he was halfway to the stove. He +set the table for one, mustering the food which Big Tom +was to have had in the lunch pail. Barber ate, occasionally +growling under his breath; or blew fiercely at the full +saucer from which he was drinking. His look roved the +room as if he were still searching. His meal finished, he +found his hat, hung the cargo hook about his neck, and +slouched out.</p> + +<p>Then for the first time Johnnie relaxed, and slumped +into the morris chair. He was not only weak, he was sick—too +sick with bitterness and hate and shame and rage +even to care to go into Cis's room to see in what condition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a><a href="images/210.png">[210]</a></span> +Big Tom had left it. He knew now that the rough handling +that he had feared for himself, though it would have been +hard enough to endure, was less than nothing when compared +with what he had suffered in seeing Mr. Perkins insulted, +and ordered out.</p> + +<p>He began to talk to himself aloud: "Good turns don't +work! I'm sorry I ever done him one! I'll never do him +another, y' betcher life!" Black discouragement possessed +him. What good did it do any one to treat a man like +Barber well? "Why, he's worse'n that mean Will Atkins +that Crusoe hates!" he declared. "And the first time I git +a chance, away I'll go, Mister Tom Barber, and this time I +won't <i>never</i> come back!"</p> + +<p>"Sh!" whispered old Grandpa. "Sh!" The faded blue +eyes were full of fear.</p> + +<p>Johnnie fed the old soldier and got him to sleep. Then +he tapped the basket signal up to Mrs. Kukor's. He had +found the bed roll undisturbed, and knew that Big Tom +had not discovered his treasures. But he would not take +any further chances. When the basket came swinging +slowly down, he called a brief explanation to the little +Jewish lady. When the basket went up, it swung heavily, +for his six precious books were in it.</p> + +<p>Now he had no time, and no inclination, for reading. +And he had no patience for any law that aimed to stand +in his way. (Big Tom had driven Mr. Perkins from the +flat; also, he had just about swept the place clean of every +good result that the scoutmaster had worked.) What +Johnnie felt urged to do seemed the only thing that could +lessen all that rage and shame, that hate and bitterness, +which was pent up in his thin little body.</p> + +<p>"So I can't ever be a scout, eh?" he demanded. "Well, +you watch me!" He planted the kitchen with a trackless +forest through which boomed a wind off Lake Champlain. +The forest was dark, mysterious. Through it, stealing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a><a href="images/211.png">[211]</a></span> +on soft, moccasined feet, went Johnnie and the cruel +Magua, following the trail of the fleeing and terrified +longshoreman.</p> + +<p>They caught him. They bound him. And now the <i>Hispaniola</i> +came into sight across the Lake, her sails full +spread as she hurried to receive her prisoner. Johnnie and +Magua put Barber aboard. The latter pleaded earnestly, +but no one listened. Again the ship set sail, bound for +that Island which had yielded up its treasure to Captain +Smollet's crew. On this Island, Big Tom was set down. +And as the <i>Hispaniola</i> set sail once more, her prow pointed +homeward, Johnnie looked back to where the longshoreman +was kneeling, hands appealingly upraised, beside those certain +three abandoned mutineers.</p> + +<p>"And there y' stay," called Johnnie; "—for life!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a><a href="images/212.png">[212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>CIS TELLS A SECRET</h3> + + +<p class="cap">CIS was seated on her narrow pallet, her back against +the prized excelsior cushion, her knees drawn up +within the circle of her slender arms. About her +shoulders tumbled her hair, its glossy waves framing a +face, pale and tense, in which her eyes were wide pools of +black.</p> + +<p>Johnnie was just below her on the floor, his quilt spread +under him for comfort, a bare foot nursed in either hand. +The combined positions were such as invariably made for +confidences. And he guessed that what she had to tell him +now was something unusually important and exciting.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie," she whispered, and he saw himself dancing +in those dark pools; "—oh, if I don't tell it to somebody, +I'll just <i>die!</i> Oh, Johnnie, what do you think? What do +you <i>think?</i>"</p> + +<p>He thought; then, "New shoes?" he hazarded. "A new +dress? A—a—more money at the fact'ry? Or"—and in +an excited rush—"another book!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh!</i>" She lifted her face to the ceiling, wagging her +head helplessly. "Shoes! or a dress! or money! or a book! +They're nothing, Johnnie, alongside of the truth—just +<i>nothing!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what?" he asked, leaning forward encouragingly. +"Go on, Cis! Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Johnnie Smith,"—impressively—"you're sitting beside +a young lady that's going to be married!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a><a href="images/213.png">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie gasped. "<i>Married?</i>" He fell back from her, +the better to stare. He had expected an important communication; +but he was not prepared for anything so astounding +as this.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Right away."</p> + +<p>Going to be married! So that was why she seemed so +different, so changed! that was why she had been wearing +her hair up, and fussing so often with her nails! why she +cared no longer for Edwarda! why she could not see the +people of his thinks! It was simple enough, now that he +understood. Of course with a wedding in view, naturally +she was grown-up; and a girl, whenever she got grown-up, +could not let her braids hang down her back. And as for +fine hands— "Y' mean y've heard from the <i>Prince?</i>" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>She laughed. "No-o-o-o! Oh, Johnnie, you silly!"</p> + +<p>He knit his brows and regarded her reprovingly. +"Well," he argued, "y' always told me how much y' love +him."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't ever know him even! And that was a long +time ago!—No, it's some one else, and really a Prince, because +he's so splendid! Oh, Johnnie, guess! Guess the +most wonderful person ever! Guess a knight! Like Galahad! +Oh, he's <i>exactly</i> like Galahad!" Now she gazed +past him. There were tears on her eyelashes. Her parted +lips were trembling. "I'm too happy almost to live!" she +added. Then down went her forehead to rest on her knees, +and he saw that she was trembling all over.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Just at first he had felt inclined +to taunt her a little for being so changeable in her +affections, so flighty; and it had hurt his opinion of her, +this knowledge that she could be disloyal. But now he was +curious. Who was really a Prince? and splendid? and like +Galahad?</p> + +<p>He saw a figure, tall and dark, majestically seated upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a><a href="images/214.png">[214]</a></span> +a great, bay horse. A cap shaded proud, piercing eyes. +A uniform set the rider wholly apart from all the ordinary +men hurrying by in both directions. Who in the city of +New York was so like a knight as one of those brave, superb, +unapproachable, almost royal, creatures, a mounted +policeman? ("Fine Irishers," as Mrs. Kukor called them.)</p> + +<p>Then Johnnie was reminded of something. "Cis, will y' +be married with a red carpet?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>She looked up, turning on him a smile so sweet and +glowing that it was like a light. "I don't know," she whispered +back. "Maybe—if I want one—I think so." Down +went her head again.</p> + +<p>Now another picture. The carpet was laid. It +stretched across the smooth pavement under a long, high, +gray canopy. A red carpet and a gray canopy meant just +one thing: great wealth. And Johnnie saw Cis following +where that carpet led, beside her one of the four richest +men in the world. This man was Mr. Astor (or Mr. Vanderbilt, +or Mr. Rockefeller, or Mr. Carnegie—any one of +the quartette would do). The mounted policeman was still +a part of the happy scene, but only in an official capacity, +since from the back of his prancing bay he was keeping +off the vast crowd that was swarming to see the bridal +couple.</p> + +<p>And, naturally, the policeman, in spite of his fine uniform, +was not to be compared for a moment to the bridegroom. +New York had many policemen; it had only one +Mr. Astor (or Mr. Vanderbilt, or Mr. Rockefeller, or Mr. +Carnegie). Also, the future surroundings of a Mrs. Policeman—what +were they when put alongside what Cis +would have when she was Mrs. Any-one-of-the-Four? A +house as big as the Grand Central Station—that was a +certainty. With it would go silk dresses and furs with +dozens of little tails to trim them; jewels of the sort +Aladdin had sent the Sultan for the Princess Buddir al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a><a href="images/215.png">[215]</a></span> +Buddoor; books in as great a number as Cis cared to buy, +all from that store in Fifth Avenue; automobiles like those +owned by the Fifty-fifth Street rich man; dishes of massy +gold.</p> + +<p>"And I betcher I'll ride in one of her cars," he thought; +"and I'll read her books!" And at once the future looked +rosy and promising.</p> + +<p>She began to whisper again, her chin on a knee: "He's +got a place for me all picked out! I won't have to go to +the factory any more! I'll have pretty clothes, and good +things to eat every meal, and see plays and moving-pictures +every week, and just have nothing to do but keep house, +and sew, and——"</p> + +<p>The startled expression on Johnnie's face stopped her. +"Keep house?" he repeated, disgusted. "<i>Sew?</i>" These +were not matters which should trouble the bride of a millionaire! +"What're y' goin' t' do things like <i>that</i> for?"</p> + +<p>She blinked at him, rebuffed and puzzled. "Why not? +I like to sew."</p> + +<p>"Aw,"—the palace of his vision was down now, had vanished +like Aladdin's own—"what's your new name goin' t' +be?" He felt unaccountably cross.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie! What's the matter with you? And you mean +you don't know? you can't guess? You haven't <i>noticed?</i> +And you right here all the time?"</p> + +<p>Surprise stiffened Johnnie's countenance. "Oh!" he +cried, amazed and glad. "Oh, Cis, I know now! You're +goin' t' marry One-Eye!"</p> + +<p>Girls, as he knew, were very strange; and surely this +one was not the least so. It was a conclusion that came +to him now, and forcibly. For at his solemn, heart-felt, +happy question, what this girl did was to fall back against +her pillow, shouting with laughter, waving both arms, even +kicking out her feet in the craziest manner. And "One-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a><a href="images/216.png">[216]</a></span>Eye!" +she repeated; "One-Eye!" Then was swept into another +paroxysm of mirth.</p> + +<p>Presently, "Well, go on! Tell me!" Johnnie said with +proper masculine severity.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnnie, you <i>are</i> so funny!" she declared breathlessly. +"One-Eye! That <i>old man!</i> Oh, never, never, +never, <i>never!</i>" The last never was only a squeak.</p> + +<p>"When y' git done laughin'—" he prompted; and waited, +lips set, and lids lowered with displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Somebody a <i>thousand</i> times nicer than One-Eye!" she +went on. "A <i>million</i> times nicer! And, oh, Johnnie, how +I <i>love</i> him!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie's heart sank, heavy with the great pity that now +welled up in his heart. He knew whom she meant; but he +knew, too, that, sweet and pretty and lovable as she was, +and no doubt capable of winning the affections of a +mounted policeman or a millionaire, she had not the slightest +chance in the world of marrying the handsome, the +good, the wise, the peerless and high-born Mr. Perkins. +"St! st! st!" he mourned. He sighed, leaned against the +side of the shelf, propped his yellow head on a big hand, +and watched her sadly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Algernon Godfrey Perkins!"—Cis spoke as if in +an ecstatic dream. "A. G. P.! <i>Oh</i>, but they're lovely initials!"</p> + +<p>He was glad when she leaned her head on her knees again, +for then she could not see his face. "Gee!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"It was you brought him to me!" went on Cis. "I'll +never forget that, Johnnie! It means my whole life! Just +think of that! A whole, long, wonderful life with <i>him!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Aw, but, Cis! Are y' sure y' got a chance?"—his voice +was tender with sorrowful concern.</p> + +<p>She sat up. "Johnnie Smith, what're you talking +about?" she demanded. "A <i>chance!</i> Why, he loves me! +He says so! Over and over and over! And look here!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a><a href="images/217.png">[217]</a></span> +She thrust a finger under the collar of her dress and drew +out a length of white ribbon, narrow and shining. Mid-way +of it, playing along the satin, was a ring—a gold ring +set all the way round with tiny, white, glistening stones. +"Mr. Perkins, he gave me this," she added, and caught the +ring to her lips.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Perkins!" Now his eyes were big with the wonder +of it all! That Waldorf-Astoria apartment—Cis was +to live in it! There could no longer be any doubt of it. +The ring was solid proof. Almost reverently he reached +to take it in his fingers. "The same as Aladdin loved the +Princess!" he said slowly.</p> + +<p>Cis gave a toss of her brown head. "Oh, Aladdin!" she +scoffed. "This is really and truly, Johnnie! There's no +make-believe about it!"</p> + +<p>What all this meant to her, to Mr. Perkins, and to +him, he realized then. But he could not be happy over it +because of a new fear. "Oh, Cis!" he cried, leaning close +to speak low. "Don't y' know what's goin' t' happen? +If y' tell Big Tom 'bout this, he'll kill y'! And, oh! oh! +He'll kill <i>him!</i> Mister Perkins!"</p> + +<p>"Sh! Sh!" She put an arm about him. "It's going to +be all right! Who'll tell Big Tom? Don't you worry. <i>I</i> +don't. I'm not his daughter. Mr. Perkins is going to +find me a guardian. It'll be a lady, I think. Anyhow +then I'll do just what the guardian says. You know, +guardians 're awfully stylish. Girls have them in books, +and in the movies. Yesterday somebody was telling at the +factory about——"</p> + +<p>She had caught his interest, taking it from that fresh +worry. His arms about her, his head resting against her +shoulder, they talked on and on, in whispers. When Barber +came stomping in, and ordered them to be quiet, Johnnie +forsook the little blue room; but he could not sleep, and +stole to the roof for a breath of fresh air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a><a href="images/218.png">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>The night was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Or +was it the joy in his own heart that made everything seem +so perfect? How deeply blue were the patches of star-sprinkled +sky showing between clouds of dazzling white! +How sweet and live was the air driving cityward from +the sea! And the moon! As it came slipping from cloud +to cloud, as round as the washtub, and nearly as large, +it seemed to Johnnie to have a face that he could see +plainly. And that face, full and fat, was laughing!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a><a href="images/219.png">[219]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>ROSES THAT TATTLED</h3> + + +<p class="cap">"CIS BAR-R-BER-R-R! Cis Bar-r-r-ber-r-r! Cis +Bar-r-r-ber-r!"</p> + +<p>It was the shrill voice of the Italian janitress, +calling up from the area, and the summons was peremptory +and impatient.</p> + +<p>The day was Sunday, so that Cis, as well as Big Tom, +was at home. At the moment the longshoreman was +humped over the sink, rinsing his bluish jowls after a +shave. Cis was beside him, standing at the kitchen window. +The day before she had been told by a girl friend +that one side of every person's face is always better-looking +than the other side; and now she was holding up in +front of her the broken bit of mirror while, as she turned +her head delicately, now this way, now that, she tried to +decide between the merits of the two views.</p> + +<p>"Cis <i>Bar</i>—rber!" sounded the call again, this time with +an added note of annoyance.</p> + +<p>Cis transferred her attention to her nose. Recently a +certain somebody had told her one or two things about +that nose. She was considering this, aided by the glass. +"My! That janitress is getting bossier and bossier!" she +remarked somewhat languidly.</p> + +<p>Johnnie, bent over his violets, paused with a flower half +done. He marveled at her lack of curiosity, envying her +for it. How grandly grown-up she was! As for him, he +was fairly on pins and needles to know what it was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a><a href="images/220.png">[220]</a></span> +janitress wanted. "St! st!" he hissed cautiously (Barber's +head being just then buried in the roller towel). He +tried hard to catch her eye.</p> + +<p>"Cis <i>BAR-BER!</i>"—it was a shriek.</p> + +<p>"I've told that woman, over and over, that my name +<i>isn't</i> Barber," went on Cis, touching her hair with deft +fingers.</p> + +<p>Barber took his head out of the towel. "Go and see +what she wants," he commanded irritably. "She'll wake +the old man."</p> + +<p>"She wants me to be running up and down three flights +of stairs," returned Cis, calmly. (It was astonishing the +attitude she took these days with Big Tom, the tone of +equality she used.) "She thinks I'm still one of the youngsters +in this building, and that she can order me around +like she used to do. But I'm going to remind Madam +Spaghetti that I'm seventeen to-day." She gave a toss +of her head as she went out.</p> + +<p>Seventeen! Sure enough! Johnnie pondered her good +fortune. It would be quite a little more than six years +before he would be seventeen. How remote that fortunate +day seemed! And how the time would drag! Oh, if there +were only some scheme for making it go faster!</p> + +<p>"Let your hair alone!" scolded Big Tom, who was raking +his own at the window, his legs spraddled wide in order +to lower himself and thus bring his head on a level with +Cis's mirror.</p> + +<p>A scout is obedient. Down came Johnnie's hand. Also, +a scout is cheerful when obeying; so up went the corners +of his mouth. And there was one more point to cover: +courtesy. "Yes, sir," he answered politely. He proceeded +with his petals of violet cotton and his little length of stem. +For what had Mr. Perkins said so often about all these +matters of conduct?</p> + +<p>"Get the habit of doing them, old fellow. If being a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a><a href="images/221.png">[221]</a></span> +scout means anything, it means living up to the laws, +sticking close to the spirit of the whole scout idea, and +following out what the Handbook teaches. Put the question +of Big Tom out of your mind. Whether he likes what +you do or not; and whether or not you please him when +you live by the laws, those aren't the main considerations. +No! It's yourself you must think of! your character! +Remember that you're not trying to make over Tom Barber. +Body and soul, you're making over Johnnie Smith!"</p> + +<p>And these days Johnnie Smith was getting on by leaps +and bounds with his preparation, his training to be a +scout. Fortunately that meeting between Mr. Perkins +and Big Tom had made no difference whatever in his program. +The morning after it took place, the scoutmaster +had made his appearance as usual at eleven o'clock. "I +can't let Mr. Barber drive me away," he explained. "Why, +that would be deserting you, old fellow, and you're counting +on me, aren't you? No, we'll go right ahead."</p> + +<p>"But if he finds out!" Johnnie ventured, happy, yet +somewhat apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"He'll order me out again probably," returned Mr. +Perkins, calmly. "Of course, if he could understand what +I'm trying to do for you, I'm sure he'd look at the whole +matter in a friendlier way." (Mr. Perkins never came +closer than this to a criticism of the longshoreman.) +"Well, he can't understand, because, you see, the poor +chap never had the right thing done for him.—Yes, we'll +go right ahead."</p> + +<p>However, as Johnnie continued to feel nervous on the +score of what his foster father might do to this good +friend if the latter was again discovered at the flat, the +scoutmaster, for Johnnie's sake, and to make the boy's +mind more easy, agreed to change the time of his call to +a little after one o'clock of each afternoon, it being decided +that this hour was the safest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a><a href="images/222.png">[222]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie had wanted to say something about the ring, +and the engagement—something to the effect that he was +happy over the news, only Mr. Perkins was taking his +(Johnnie's) job away from him, since he had planned, +when he grew up,—yes, and even before—to take care +of Cis himself. But for some reason he did not find it +easy to broach the subject; and since the scoutmaster did +not begin it (he looked ruddier and browner than ever before, +Johnnie thought), the upshot of it was that the engagement +did not get discussed at all.</p> + +<p>Instead, the Handbook took up the whole of the hour. +A mysterious signal on the sink pipe brought all of the +books down to them, descending in the basket as if out of +the sky. Mrs. Kukor had to be thanked then, from the +window, after which Mr. Perkins and Johnnie settled down +to a chapter treating of the prevention of accidents, first-aid, +and lifesaving. And that afternoon, when the scoutmaster +was gone, Letitia was several times rescued from +drowning, and carried on a stretcher; and that evening +Cis, on coming in from work, found Grandpa's old, white +head bandaged scientifically in the dish-towel, this greatly +to the veteran's delight, for he believed he had just been +wounded at the Battle of Shiloh.</p> + +<p>The chapter for the next day after proved even more +exciting. It was all about games—the Treasure Hunt, and +Let 'er Buck, Capture the Flag, and dozens more, but each +as strange to Johnnie as another, since he had never +played one of them. Mr. Perkins added his explanations to +those in the Handbook, and showed Johnnie and Grandpa +how cock-fighting was done, gave a demonstration of skunk +tag, and proved that the soft, splintery boards of the +kitchen floor were finely adapted to mumbly peg.</p> + +<p>That night on the roof, Johnnie hailed to him a score +of scouts, along with Jim Hawkins and David, Aladdin, +and several of the younger Knights of King Arthur. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a><a href="images/223.png">[223]</a></span> +went forward a great game of duck on a rock, followed by +a relay race and dodge-ball. The roof had come to mean +more and more to Johnnie of late, but now he felt especially +glad that he had it to go to. During the past few +weeks he had frequented it under every sort of summer-night +sky. It was his weather station, his observatory, his +gymnasium, his park, his highway, his hilltop, his Crusoe's +Island. In the thinks he conjured up there, it was +also his railroad station, for he traveled far and wide from +it on trains that went puffing away from that little house +built at the top of the stairs; and it was his wharf, to +which tall-masted ships came with the swift quiet of so +many pigeons. But now the roof was for him still another +place—besides a health resort: it was his playground for +all those scout games.</p> + +<p>But he and Mr. Perkins had not stopped at that chapter +on Games. From cover to cover Johnnie absorbed the +Handbook, reading even the Appendix and the Index! He +read the advertisements, too, and came to own a kodak, a +junior rifle, a watch, a scout axe, and various other desirable +things. But the merit badge he did not own. He +meant to earn that, to have it really—not just as a think; +for which reason he never lagged in the matter of his +meal getting.</p> + +<p>Big Tom profited through this determination of Johnnie's. +Night after night he had biscuits and gravy. He +had apple sauce where formerly Johnnie would have let +the longshoreman eat his green apples uncooked. Barber +profited, too, in the amount of work Johnnie did every +day, promptly and thoroughly, and in those good turns +which served to make old Grandpa happier.</p> + +<p>Now as Johnnie waited for Cis to return from the area, +he pondered on the difference between Big Tom and Mr. +Perkins. The latter had often pointed out to Johnnie that +it did not cost anything to be either polite or cheerful, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a><a href="images/224.png">[224]</a></span> +the boy liked being both. Why was Big Tom neither? +"Mister Barber, what does 'Birds of a feather flock +t'-gether' mean?" he <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'inqured'">inquired</ins>.</p> + +<p>Barber had on a white collar and his best coat. His +shoes were laced, too. This was the Sunday-morning +longshoreman that was the pleasantest to look at. "Where +d' y' git hold of such stuff?" was his retort. (Yet Barber +smiled as he put on his hat. The boy was coming to time +in great shape these days, behaving himself, doing his +work, learning to answer a man right. A blind person +could see the improvement. Who could say truthfully +that he was not raising the boy first-class?)</p> + +<p>As the hall door shut behind Barber, Johnnie could +scarcely keep himself down in his chair. He wanted to +look out of the window to try if he could not see Cis. But +he stayed where he was, and twisted away busily. Barber +might be at his old tricks; might open the door at any moment. +But also, just so many violets must be made of a +Sunday, and just that many would be made. A scout is +trustworthy.</p> + +<p>Yet just so many violets were not to be made, thus +proving how uncertain life is. For here came Cis, switching +her way in importantly. She was panting. She was +flushed. Cautiously she shut the door behind her. "I've +been up on Mrs. Kukor's stairs, waiting," she half whispered. +Under one arm she was carrying a long, satiny-white +box.</p> + +<p>"<i>Another</i> doll?" demanded Johnnie, astonished and disappointed. +To him any long, white box could mean nothing +else. However, he rose, unable to be entirely indifferent +even to a new doll.</p> + +<p>"Doll!" cried Cis, scornfully. She dropped the box on +the table.</p> + +<p>Then Johnnie saw that it was not a doll; for out of +one end of the box—an end that was open—extended a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a><a href="images/225.png">[225]</a></span> +handful of long, slender, green stems. The gift was flowers, +tied, not with common string, but with a flat, green +tape which looked fully as expensive as ribbon, and nearly +as handsome. "Oh, gee!"—this as he seized the stems, not +being able to wait, he was so excited, and tried to draw the +flowers from the box. "Oh, Cis, d'y' s'pose these 're from +One-Eye? D'y' think maybe One-Eye is back?—Oh, +hurry!"</p> + +<p>"Wait!"—speaking gently, yet with something of a +high-and-mighty air. "Johnnie, you've got One-Eye on +the brain." The cord untied, she slipped the cover off the +box. Next she swept aside a froth of crisp tissue-paper +which was still veiling the gift. Then together they looked +down.</p> + +<p>"O-o-o-o-h!" It was a chorus.</p> + +<p>Roses! Pink roses! A very pile of them, snuggling in +the cool, delicate greenery of ferns! Up from them lifted +a fragrance that rivaled even that of orris root. Cis +leaned to breathe. Next, Johnnie leaned, all but swelling +to the bursting point that flat little chest of his to take in +the delicious perfume. Thus for a while, and without +speaking, they dipped their heads, alternating, to the box.</p> + +<p>Presently, Cis lifted the bouquet—almost with reverence. +The cups of the flowers were narrow, looked into +from directly above, as if each flower had just opened. +And, oh, how young each seemed! and how beautiful! +When, in all the years since the tenement had been built, +had it sheltered such loveliness! Bravely enough the dark, +smudgy kitchen, with its scabby walls and its greasy, splintery +floor, grew knots of violets. But here were flowers not +made by hands: flowers which had come up out of the +earth!—yet with a perfectness which was surely not of +the earth; certainly not, at any rate, of this particular +corner of it situated in the Lower East Side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a><a href="images/226.png">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My first roses!" Cis said. Her tone implied that they +were not her last.</p> + +<p>"They're fine!" pronounced Johnnie, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Fine?</i> They're darling! They're precious! They look +as if they'd just come down from Heaven!" Out of the +long, white box Cis now took a small, square envelope. +She handed it to Johnnie. "Open it, please," she bade, +and rather grandly, her air that of one who has been receiving +boxes of roses all her life. Then once more she +buried that complimented nose among her flowers.</p> + +<p>The envelope was not sealed. That was because, Johnnie +concluded, there was no letter in it. What it contained +was a narrow, stiff card. On the card, written in ink, +was "Many happy returns of the day!" This Johnnie +read aloud. "But there's no name," he complained. "So +how d'y' know these didn't come from One-Eye? I'll just +bet they did! I'll——"</p> + +<p>"Read the other side," advised Cis calmly. She fell to +counting the roses.</p> + +<p>Over went the card. "Oh, yes; you're right—Mister +Algernon Godfrey Perkins, it says. Gee! but he must've +spent a pile of money! And what day's he talkin' about? +How can a day return?"</p> + +<p>"Your birthday can return—every year, the way Christmas +does. To-day is seventeen times my birthday has +returned; and there's just seventeen roses here. That's +one for each year I've lived." She began to whisper into +the buds, touching in turn each pink chalice with her pink +lips. "This is the rose for the year I was one, and this is +the rose for the year I was two, and this is the rose——"</p> + +<p>Johnnie proceeded, boylike, to acquire some intimate and +practical knowledge of her gift. He opened one flower +a little, carefully spreading its petals. "My! ain't they +soft!" he marveled. "Gee! I'd like t' make some 'xac'ly +like 'em out o' silk! And, ouch! What's <i>this?</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a><a href="images/227.png">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This" was a thorn, the first he had ever seen. Learning +that the roses had many thorns, he begged hard for +one, whereupon Cis broke off for him that particular +needlelike growth which was the farthest down on any +stem. He received it gratefully on a palm, carried it to +the window, and there split it open with a thumb-nail; +and having been assured by Cis that it was a safe enough +thing to do, he finally put the divided thorn into his +mouth and chewed it up. And found it good!</p> + +<p>Next, he begged a bit of stem. At first, Cis demurred, +arguing that to cut a stem might injure the rose at its +top; but was won over when Johnnie pointed out that all +of the stems had been already cut once—"and maybe it was +good for 'em!" But then the question was, which of the +seventeen stems could best spare a bit of its length? This +took consideration; also, measuring—with a string. At +last the longest stem of all was found. Cis held it tenderly +while Johnnie did the cutting. Snip! He got a quarter-inch +of the growth. This, also, he split, examined, smelled, +and ate. And discovered that it tasted even better than +the thorn!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Cis was parading, her bouquet clasped to +her breast. He went over and walked to and fro beside +her, studying the flowers. "Those come up out o' the +dirt, didn't they?" he mused. "But they're pink and +green. And dirt ain't, is it? So how can the <i>roses</i> be like +they are? 'R else the ground ought t' be pink on top—that's +t' make the flowers—and green 'way down, so's t' +grow the stems. And how does the roses know not t' git +green up top and pink all up and down? And how——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do hush!" implored Cis. "Don't you see that I'm +trying to think? Don't talk aloud, Johnnie, please!"</p> + +<p>It was then they heard the stairs creak, and a heavy +step in the hall. And thought of Big Tom for the first +time—having been too enthralled by the roses, until now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a><a href="images/228.png">[228]</a></span> +to remember anything else. "Oh, quick!" Johnnie was between +Cis and the door of her room. He moved aside to +let her pass. "Oh!"—but, being panic-stricken, she +stepped in the same direction, so that she stumbled against +him. Finding himself again blocking her path, "Hurry!" +he urged, and dodged the other way. She also dodged +that way. Thus they did a kind of frightened side-to-side +dance there in the middle of the kitchen floor—as the door +opened and Barber appeared, his coat on his arm.</p> + +<p>Face to face, with the roses between them, Cis and +Johnnie stayed where they were, as if stricken into helplessness +by the sight of the longshoreman, toward him +turning their beseeching, anxious look. Each reached +blindly to touch the other, for strength and sympathy. +And the roses, lifted to the level of their lips, swayed to +their hard breathing.</p> + +<p>Barber lumbered closer. "What y' got there?" he demanded. +He flung his coat from him, to light upon the +table, where it covered those other flowers which were of +cotton.</p> + +<p>"R—roses," faltered Cis, her voice scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>Now the longshoreman came to loom over them. "Where +'d y' git 'em?" he asked next, staring at the bouquet almost +wildly. ("He'll jerk it," thought Johnnie.)</p> + +<p>"You—you remember the—the Mr. Perkins?" Cis began, +not taking her eyes from Big Tom's face.</p> + +<p>Barber did not "jerk" the roses. Instead, he pointed +one of those long arms toward the window. "Walk over +there," he commanded, "and pitch 'em out!" His arm +stayed outstretched.</p> + +<p>Cis tried to speak, made as if to plead, but could only +swallow. As for Johnnie, he was petrified, mesmerized, and +remained in her path, watching those eyes which were +bulging so furiously, while that white flash in the left one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a><a href="images/229.png">[229]</a></span> +darted into sight and disappeared, then came and went +again.</p> + +<p>"<i>Out!</i>" repeated Barber.</p> + +<p>Cis lowered her look to her roses, as if she were seeing +them for the last time. Even in the dusk of the kitchen +their bright color was reflected upon her face, which, but +for the flowers, would have been a ghastly white. A quick +catching of the breath, like a sob. Then, her chin sunk +among the blossoms, she half-circled Johnnie, and slowly +started windowward.</p> + +<p>"Git a move on!" Barber spoke low.</p> + +<p>At that, she turned, holding the roses toward him. "Oh, +Mr. Barber!" she begged. "Don't make me! Don't! The +first roses I've ever had! The first! Oh, don't hurt 'em!"</p> + +<p>The wheel chair began to swing around. It was curious +how quickly a note of dissension could rouse the old soldier +from sleep, though with any amount of excitement of +the happy kind he napped undisturbed. "Johnnie? Johnnie?" +he called. The faded, weak eyes peered about.</p> + +<p>Barber acted quickly. With a muttered curse, he lunged +across the room to Cis, snarled into her face as he reached +her, and wrenched the roses out of her hand. "I'll hurt +'em all right!" he promised savagely.</p> + +<p>"Tommie! Tommie!"—it was a joyous cry. The bright +flowers had caught Grandpa's eye. "Oh! Oh, Tommie!" +Now the chair started in Barber's direction. "Oh, +Mother! Oh, go fetch Mother!" He let Letitia drop as +he turned at the wheels.</p> + +<p>The roses were half way out of the window; Barber +drew them back, as if his father's delight in the bouquet +had made him change his mind. But he did not give them +to Grandpa. Instead, he hid the flowers behind him. "Git +the old man some milk," he told Johnnie; and to Cis, "You +put on your hat and take these out, and don't you come +back with less'n a dollar."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a><a href="images/230.png">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A—a dollar?" She began to weep. Though she did +not yet understand what he meant her to do.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a dollar." Barber stayed beside the window, the +roses still at his back. "You heard me! Sell 'em."</p> + +<p>She turned toward her room. "Sell my birthday present!" +she sobbed. "The first bouquet I've ever had! The +first!" But instinctively her hands went up to smooth her +hair.</p> + +<p>That told Johnnie that she was getting ready to put on +her hat and obey a wicked command. He fumbled with the +milk bottle and a cup, spilling a little of the drink. "All +right, Grandpa," he soothed. But his tone was not indicative +of his real feelings. Other words were boiling up in +him that he did not speak: "<i>I</i> wouldn't sell 'em, y' betcher +life! He could go out and sell 'em himself! And I'd tell +him so, y' betcher life! And he could lick me if he wanted +t'! He could pound me till I died! But I wouldn't mind +him!"</p> + +<p>Something came driving up into his throat, his eyes, his +pale, strained face. It was the blood of hate. It choked +and blinded him, sang in his ears, swelled his thin neck, +reddened his unfreckled cheeks. Oh, this was more than +he could bear, even if he was to be a scout some day! The +laws, the good resolutions, the lessons taught by Mr. Perkins, +they were not helping him now when this fearful +thing was being done. He began a terrible think—of Big +Tom down on the floor, helpless, bleeding, begging for +mercy, while Johnnie struck his cruel tormentor again and +again—trampled him—laughed—shouted——!</p> + +<p>Cis came from the tiny blue room. Her head was lowered. +The tears were making wet tracks between eyes and +pitifully trembling mouth. She walked as far as the table, +which checked her, and she halted against it blindly.</p> + +<p>"There you are," said Big Tom. He tossed the roses +upon his coat. "Go on, now! Hurry! Don't wait round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a><a href="images/231.png">[231]</a></span> +till the old man gits t' fussin'; and"—as she gathered the +roses up and made slowly toward the door—"don't do no +howlin' on the street, or folks'll think y're crazy."</p> + +<p>She halted and turned her tear-stained face toward him. +"People <i>will</i> think I'm crazy!" she sobbed. "A girl like +me selling flowers on the street of a Sunday morning!"</p> + +<p>"Wait!" That had changed his mind. "Give 'em t' +Johnnie."</p> + +<p>Johnnie went to her. But for a moment he did not take +the roses, only looked up, twisting his fingers, and working +a big toe. His teeth were set hard. His lips were drawn +away from them in a grimace of pure agony. Scouts were +brave. Did <i>he</i> dare to be brave? Cis had not held out +against the order, and he had blamed her in his heart for +her weakness as he vowed to himself that he would rebel. +But now—! Could he turn and speak out his defiance? +Could he tell Barber that he would not sell the flowers?</p> + +<p>The next thing, he had taken the bouquet into his hands. +He did not mean to; and he did not look at Cis after he did +it, because he could not. His head was bowed like hers +now; his heart was bursting. But not solely on account +of the roses. He was thinking of himself. He was a little +coward—there was no use denying it! Yes, he was as cowardly +as a girl! Here he had been given his chance "to +face danger in spite of fear," "to stand up for the right"—and +he had failed! He understood clearly that this was +not the time to be obedient, and that he could not offer +obedience as an excuse. No boy should carry out an order +to do what was wrong.</p> + +<p>"Git along!" It was Big Tom again, fuming over the +delay.</p> + +<p>Hatless, barefooted, in his flopping, too-big clothes, and +with seventeen rosebuds clasped to his old, soiled shirt, +Johnnie went slowly out, black shame in his soul.</p> + +<p>"I—I couldn't say it!" he mourned. "I wanted t', but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a><a href="images/232.png">[232]</a></span> +it jus' wouldn't come out! I s'pose it's 'cause I ain't a +reg'lar scout yet." Going down the stairs, he saw no one, +though several of the curious (having learned about the +big box that had gone up) saw him. But, strangely +enough, they watched him in silence, their speech stayed +by the misery in his lowered face and bent shoulders. +"After a while I'll be better, maybe," he told himself hopefully. +"But now 'bout all I can do, seems like, is keep my +teeth clean."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a><a href="images/233.png">[233]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>FATHER PAT</h3> + + +<p class="cap">AN energetic, hot, and dust-laden wind caught at +Johnnie as he came out upon the street, whipping +strands of his yellow hair into his eyes and about +his ears, blowing the fringe at his knees and elbows, billowing +the big shirt till his ribs were fanned, and setting to +wave gayly all those pink rosebuds and their green leaves.</p> + +<p>The wind did more: warm as it was, it calmed his +thoughts and steadied his brain, so that he was able to see +the whole matter of the birthday bouquet clearly, and reach +a new and better decision in regard to the flowers. Now +he understood perfectly that in spite of whatever might +happen to him when he got home, he could not sell Mr. +Perkins's gift. No boy who intended to be a scout could +do such a things—then return, even with the large sum of +one whole dollar, and expect Cis to speak to him again. +And how could he ever bear to admit such a sale to Mr. +Perkins? or to One-Eye?</p> + +<p>"I'd rather fall down and die!" he vowed. "'Cause it'd +show 'em all that I ain't gittin' made over a bit!"</p> + +<p>But if he did not dispose of the flowers to some one, as +the longshoreman had ordered, what then? Should he +turn around and go straight back to the flat—now? He +halted for a moment, thinking. To go back would, of +course, mean a beating, perhaps with the buckle end of the +strap! (A thought that made him shiver as he stood there, +on a hot pave, in the summer sun.) Oh, was there not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a><a href="images/234.png">[234]</a></span> +some way by which he could keep the bouquet and yet not +suffer punishment? Suppose he gave the roses away? to +the first old lady he met? and then reported to Big Tom—with +tears!—that a gang of boys had snatched the flowers +out of his hands? But that would be telling a lie, and a +lie would be as bad, almost, as taking money for Cis's +blossoms. No, he would not lie, though not so long ago, +before he met the scoutmaster, and read the Handbook, +he would not have hesitated; indeed, he would have rejoiced +in cheating Barber, and complimented himself on +thinking up such a clever story.</p> + +<p>Suppose, however, that he were to sell the flowers for a +dollar, keep the money, and not return to the flat at all? +For a moment this plan seemed such a good one that he +started off briskly, his look searching the faces of passersby. +Another moment, and he came short again. How +could he cut himself off from Mr. Perkins? For if he did, +his hope of being a scout, when he was twelve years old, +would be gone. Also, there was that wedding; he had set +his heart on attending it, and walking the red carpet between +lines of envious onlookers. No, this was no time +to be leaving the flat.</p> + +<p>Then, a splendid idea! And he made up his mind instantly +that he would carry it out, so on he started, though +more slowly than before. His new plan was this: He +would walk, and walk, and walk, enjoying the buds all the +while, their delicate fragrance, the silken touch of their +petals against his chin. As he walked, he would not look +at any one—just at the scenery; so that when he returned +home he could truthfully say that he had seen no one even +so much as look at the roses. No matter what any stranger +might say to him, he would not stop, and then he could +declare that nobody had stopped him. Also, should a lady +or gentleman hail him, asking to buy, he would not an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a><a href="images/235.png">[235]</a></span>swer, +and so he would be able to say that he had not refused +to sell.</p> + +<p>He would stay out till it was late—till it was dark, and +the three at home were grown anxious. Then when he +felt sure that Grandpa was abed, back he would go, taking +the roses to Cis. He would enter the flat "staggerin', like +I can hardly stand up." And mourn over his ill-luck as a +salesman. And if he had to take a whipping, "Well, I'll +yell as hard's I can" (everybody's window was open these +soft June nights) "even if I scare Grandpa a little, and I'll +make Big Tom quit quick. And anyhow I'd feel awful for +a long time if I done what <i>he</i> wants me to, but a lickin', +why, it don't last."</p> + +<p>He felt a return of pride and self-respect. On he rambled, +looking at the scenery, and particularly at the higher +portions of it, this so as to avoid the eyes of passing people. +Luckily for his peace of mind, he did not know that +cut flowers need water, or that they would wilt, and be less +fresh and beautiful than they were now. So, considering +the circumstances, his thoughts were cheerful, for while the +coming evening might bring him trouble and tears, the future +not so immediate promised praise and love and a clear +conscience. "By mornin'—by this time t'-morrow, the +hurt'll be over," he reflected, and then without regrets he +could go in and look at Mr. Roosevelt, could face Aladdin, +too, and Galahad, Jim Hawkins, Mr. Lincoln, Daniel +Boone and all his other friends. (He had not read and +studied that chapter on Chivalry without results!)</p> + +<p>Every one stared at the strange little figure in the big, +ragged clothes with a sumptuous bouquet of pink rosebuds +held so high against his breast, under his folded arms, that +only his tousled hair and his gray eyes showed. Some +were curious, and swung round as he went by to look after +him. Others smiled, for the contrast between the boy and +his armful of blossoms was comical. A few looked severe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a><a href="images/236.png">[236]</a></span> +as if they suspicioned that he had not come by the bouquet +honestly. Now and then a boy called to him, or ran +alongside. At a corner, two girls caught at one of the +buds, missed it, then scampered out of reach, squealing. +His chin up, his eyes up, he ignored them all.</p> + +<p>On and on he sauntered—west, then north. Perhaps he +might go as far as that store where New York bought all +of its books. Being Sunday, of course, the store would be +closed. But it would be fine to have a look in at the windows. +From the book shop he would swing east again, for +a glimpse of the horse palace. It might just happen that +One-Eye would be back! Oh, if only——!</p> + +<p>"Hey there!"</p> + +<p>Somehow he knew that the call was at him. And though +it was a man who was hailing him, he pretended that he +did not hear. But a whistle blew—a police whistle. Instantly +he brought up. According to one of those twelve +laws in the Handbook, a scout is obedient to "all other +duly constituted authorities," and Mr. Perkins had explained +that "constituted authorities" is simply a big word +way, and a nice way, of saying "cops." Johnnie turned +about; and there was the large figure in official blue, from +whose gray mustache a whistle was at that moment descending.</p> + +<p>The policeman was standing in front of a grocery store. +Shoulder to shoulder with him was another man who was +even larger—taller, and wider, and thicker through. +About this man's dress there was something strange. He +had on no tie. Instead, laid neatly below the narrow line +of his white collar was a smooth triangle of black.</p> + +<p>Johnnie marched straight up to the two. "Yes, sir?" +he said to the patrolman. (He would have saluted if he +had had a free hand.)</p> + +<p>The patrolman stared, open-mouthed. Naturally +enough he had jumped to the conclusion, as some others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a><a href="images/237.png">[237]</a></span> +had, that this boy in cast-off clothes had not come by a +valuable bouquet through purchase. He had expected +that Johnnie, when challenged, would promptly take to +his heels. And here——!</p> + +<p>The gentleman who had on no tie was also staring in +amaze. Externally this boy with the roses was a guttersnipe. +But—who in all his life ever before saw a guttersnipe +with eyes so lacking in cunning and roguery? +eyes, clear, honest, fearless, manly? "And that bright," +the gentleman declared, but as if he were talking only to +himself, "that ye could fair light a candle at 'em!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie guessed that the candle-lighting eyes were his +own. His ears moved perceptibly backward and his cheeks +lifted in a grin. He was himself looking into a pair that +were jolly and keen and kind—and Irish. A soft straw +hat shaded them; and short, flaming-red hair, which filled +in at either side of the head between hat and ear, served to +accentuate the green that tinged their mild gray. Below +the eyes was a nose unmistakably pugged. Lower still, +a long upper lip gave to a mouth (generous in size) that, +smiling, showed itself to be full of dental bridges made entirely +of gold.</p> + +<p>"Massy gold!" Johnnie reflected admiringly, "like the +dishes Aladdin's got." And he made up his mind, then +and there, that when he was grown-up, and could afford +it, he would have gold bridges.</p> + +<p>"And where d' ye think ye're goin' wid th' roses?" inquired +the giant in the blue uniform, managing a smile +for this rarity among city urchins.</p> + +<p>"No 'xact where," replied Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, little lad, dear," said the other man, "is it +lost ye are? or are all those sassy roses just coaxin' ye out +into the sun?"</p> + +<p>Now here was a thought that appealed! Johnnie's eyes +twinkled. "Wouldn't y' both like t' have a smell of 'em?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a><a href="images/238.png">[238]</a></span> +he asked, and lifted the bouquet temptingly. "I was sent +out to sell 'em."</p> + +<p>Now witness a stern guardian of the peace, who but a +moment ago had in his mind the thought of "landin' a bit +of a thief," leaning forward to take a breath of the flowers. +"Grand," he agreed. The larger man took off his +hat before he bent to inhale. "Dain-tee!" he cried, with +an enthusiastic shake of his red head; then to a half-dozen +small loiterers who were straining to hear, "There! there! +Run along now, children dear! Ye're wanted at the telephone!"</p> + +<p>"I'll be tellin' certain folks a few things relatin' t' the +sellin' o' this or that on the street," now observed the +policeman, vaguely. "Eh, Father Pat?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be glad t' go along with ye," returned the other, +"and if things 're as bad as they look t' be, then it's +Patrick Mungovan that'll do a bit o' rakin'!" He settled +the straw hat.</p> + +<p>"Just where d' y' live, young man?" asked the policeman.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had guessed from the tone of the priest that a +"rakin'" was something not altogether pleasant; had +concluded, too, that it would fall to the lot of Big Tom. So +he gave the address gladly, and as his two new friends +stepped forward, was himself ten feet away in a flash, and—going +in the wrong direction!</p> + +<p>"Here, now! Here!" called the officer after him, at once +stern and suspicious. "Don't ye be leadin' <i>me</i> no wild +goose chase!" Johnnie having halted, the other came up +to him and seized him by one big sleeve. "Ye tell me one +thing, and ye start the opp'site! How's that?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I don't know where I am," admitted Johnnie. +"Y' see, I don't git out much, and so I don't know my +way good."</p> + +<p>"Now, what could be honester, Clancy?" chided the big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a><a href="images/239.png">[239]</a></span>ger +man. "Shure, ye can see by the color o' his skin that +he's a shut-in.—So, now, square about, little flower peddler, +but, oh, go easy! easy! That is, if ye want me t' go +along, or, shure, big as I am, and fat——"</p> + +<p>"Ye're <i>not</i> fat, Father!" denied Clancy. They were +all under way now, with Johnnie in the middle.</p> + +<p>"Well, solid then," amended the other, breathing hard. +"Shure, it's me that cuts up a big piece of cloth when it +comes t' clothes, which is deceivin' enough, since I'm back +from the war. For what's a man—and never mind his +size—if his lungs is gone? or goin'?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie turned upward a troubled look. "Did y' git +hurt in the war?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe ye wouldn't call it hurt, exactly," answered +the Father. "Shure, they didn't let out anny of +the blood of me, but 'twould've been better, I'm thinkin', if +they had. No, lad dear, they sent me over a whiff of the +gas, the wind bein' right for the nasty business, and I had +the bad taste t' swallow it."</p> + +<p>As they fared along, Johnnie kept up a steady chatter +in a manner that was obviously friendly and cheerful, this +in order to make passersby understand that his return was +in the nature of another triumph, and that he had not been +arrested. As for his look and carriage, they were those +of a proud boy.</p> + +<p>By the time his companions had learned how matters +stood in the flat, the three had reached the stairs and begun +a slow climb. With the caution of his kind, the policeman +did not allow Johnnie to lead the way. The latter +came second in the procession, the priest toiling last, with +much puffing and many a grunt.</p> + +<p>The progress of the three being so leisurely, there was +time for the inhabitants of the building to hear of the interesting +pair that were ascending with Johnnie Smith, and +to assemble in groups at the landings, while excited chat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a><a href="images/240.png">[240]</a></span>ter +wafted the dust which the visitors raised, and the stairs +creaked alarmingly.</p> + +<p>When the Barber door was reached, the representative +of the law paused—as if waiting for the priest to come +up. In reality, standing sidewise, one ear close to a panel, +he listened to what was going on inside. As Johnnie, with +the bouquet waving against his breast, came to a halt at +the official heels, he heard it all, too—a roar of threats +and curses, loud stamping to and fro across a squeaking +floor, while like a sad accompaniment to a harsh tune there +sounded a low, frightened weeping.</p> + +<p>Johnnie peered up into the policeman's face. Dark as +was the hall, he could see that Mr. Clancy's visage was +stern. Father Pat was beside them now, steadying himself +by a hand on the rickety banister, while he laid the +other upon his breast as if to ease his panting. His look +was horrified.</p> + +<p>The youngest of that trio rejoiced that Big Tom was +acting so badly just at this time. It meant that the +"rakin'" would surely happen; and after Father Pat had +done his part, Johnnie hoped that the policeman would +arrest the longshoreman, drag him away to prison, and +perhaps even whack him a time or two with his polished +stick.</p> + +<p>These possibilities were comforting.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a><a href="images/241.png">[241]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>AN ALLY CROSSES A SWORD</h3> + + +<p class="cap">OFFICER CLANCY did not wait even to knock +once upon the Barber door, but pushed it open +sharply—discovering Big Tom and Cis, face to +face on the far side of the kitchen table, the latter with +wet cheeks, while her shrinking, wilted young figure was +swayed backward out of reach of the huge finger which +the longshoreman was shaking before her eyes. Beside +her, crouched down in his chair, was old Grandpa, peering +out between the folds of his blanket like a frightened +kitten.</p> + +<p>The interruption halted Big Tom halfway of a stormy +sentence, and he turned upon the entering officer a countenance +dark and working. (As Father Pat said afterward, +"Shure, and 'twas as black as anny colored babe's +in Cherry Street!") However, that newly shaved visage +lightened instantly, paling at sight of the police-blue and +the shield.</p> + +<p>The officer spoke first. "This kid belong here?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Lives here," admitted Barber, swallowing.</p> + +<p>"I take it ye're not a florist," went on Clancy.</p> + +<p>"I ain't."</p> + +<p>"Ah! In that case,"—firmly—"ye'll not be sendin' +anny boy out on to the street t' sell roses: leastways, not +without the proper license, which ye can ask for up at +City Hall." Next, the patrolman gave Johnnie a friendly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a><a href="images/242.png">[242]</a></span> +shove toward the middle of the room. "Hand the posies +t' yer sister, young man," he commanded.</p> + +<p>Johnnie darted to obey, and Cis made a joyous start +toward him. Their hands touched, and the roses changed +keeper.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Barber had gained back a little of his usual +self-confidence. "Oh, all right," he remarked. "But we +need money a lot more'n flowers."</p> + +<p>"That's as it may be," conceded Clancy, dryly. "But—the +law's the law, and I'll just tell ye this much":—he +emphasized his statement by pointing the stick—"ye're +lucky t' 'scape a fine! Seein' ye're so short o' cash!"</p> + +<p>Most men, as Barber liked to boast, did not dare to +give the longshoreman any of their "lip." But now he +was careful to accept the ultimatum of the officer without +a show of temper. "Guess I am," he assented.</p> + +<p>Clancy nodded. "And I'll see ye later, Father Pat?" +he inquired, giving the priest a meaning glance.</p> + +<p>"Please God," replied the Father, settling himself in +the morris chair. (He knew when young eyes implored.)</p> + +<p>"I'll say good-day t' ye all," went on the policeman. He +gave Johnnie a wink and Cis a smile as he went out.</p> + +<p>Father Pat now took off his hat. In such cases it was +well to "set by" till the storm blew over. "I'm thinkin' I +met ye on the docks one day," he observed cordially enough +to Big Tom. "'Twas the time there was trouble over +the loadin' of the <i>Mary Jane</i>."</p> + +<p>Barber was chewing. "Y' had that honor," he returned, +a trifle sarcastic.</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha!" laughed the Father. But there was a flash +of something not too friendly in his look. "Honor, was +it? I'm glad ye told me! For meself, shure, I can't always +be certain whether 'tis that—or maybe just the +opp'site!"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> can be sure," went on the longshoreman. He sucked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a><a href="images/243.png">[243]</a></span> +his teeth belligerently. "I know when I'm honored, and +also when I'm not."</p> + +<p>"Is it like that?" retorted Father Pat smoothly. +"Then I'll say ye're smarter than I judged ye was from +seein' ye put a lad on to the street t' sell flowers of a +Sunday mornin'."</p> + +<p>To Cis this passage between the men was all pure agony. +She dropped down beside Grandpa's chair, and stayed +there, half hidden. But it was not misery for Johnnie. +He had rightly guessed what the "rakin'" would be, and +for whom. And now it was going forward, and he welcomed +it.</p> + +<p>It was then that it came over him how different was this +newest friend from his other two! One-Eye always left +Johnnie puzzled as to his real opinion of the longshoreman, +this through saying just the opposite of what he +meant. Mr. Perkins, on the other hand, did not express +himself at all; in fact, almost ignored Barber's existence. +But Father Pat! Not even old Grandpa could be in doubt +as to how the priest felt toward the longshoreman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you worry about this kid," advised Big Tom. +"I git mighty little out o' <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>Father Pat stared. Then, bluntly, "Shure, now, don't +tell me that! Ye know, I can see his big hands."</p> + +<p>Johnnie's hands, at that moment, were hanging in front +of him, the fingers knotted. He glanced down at them. +He had never thought of them as being large, but now +he realized that they were. What was worse, they seemed +to be getting bigger and bigger all of a sudden! The way +they were swelling made him part them and slip them behind +his back.</p> + +<p>"When I was a shaver, I didn't have no time t' be a +dude!" asserted Big Tom. "And this kid ain't no better'n +me!"</p> + +<p>"As a man," answered the Father, "shure, and I hope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a><a href="images/244.png">[244]</a></span> +he'll be better than the two o' us put t'gether! Because +if the boys and girls don't improve upon the older folks, +how is this world t' git better, t' advance?" As he spoke, +his look went swiftly round the room.</p> + +<p>Barber laughed. "Well, I can tell y' one thing about +him," he said. "He won't never make a longshoreman—the +little runt!"</p> + +<p>At that, Father Pat fairly shot to his feet, and taking +a forward step, hung over Big Tom, his green eyes black, +his freckled face as crimson as his hair. "Runt is it!" he +cried. "Runt! And I'll ask ye why, Mr. Tom Barber? +Because ye've kept him shut up in this black place! Because +ye've cheated him out o' decent food, and fresh air, +and the flirtin' up o' his boy's heels! Does he find time +t' play? Has he got friends? Not if ye can help it! +Oh, I can read all the little story o' him—the sad, starved, +pitiful, lonely, story o' him!"</p> + +<p>Barber got up slowly, laying down his pipe. "I guess +I know a few things I've done for him," he answered angrily. +"And I don't want abuse for them, neither! He's +got a lot t' be thankful for!"</p> + +<p>"Thankful, yer Grandmother!" raged the Father, but +somewhat breathlessly. "I don't want t' hear yer excuses, +nor what ye've done! I can see through ye just as if ye +was a pane o' glass! It's the carin' for the old man without +a penny o' cost that ye've thought about! It's the +makin' o' a few flowers for a few cents!"—he pointed to +the table—"when the lad ought t' be at his books! +Greed's at the bottom o' what ye do—not only workin' +the lad too hard for his strength, but cheatin' him out o' +his school!"</p> + +<p>"I guess that's all," said Barber, quietly. "I'll ask y' +t' cut it."</p> + +<p>"I'll cut nothin'!" cried the priest. "These five years +ye've been waitin' for a man t' come and tell ye the truth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a><a href="images/245.png">[245]</a></span> +Well, I'm only what's left o' a man, but the truth is on +me tongue! And it's comin' off, Tom Barber,—it's comin' +off! Shut up another lad like ye've shut him, thrash him, +and half starve him in his mind and his body, and see what +ye'd get! Ye'd get an idiot, that's what ye'd get! The +average lad couldn't stand it! Not the way this boy has! +Because why? I'll tell ye: ye've made his home a prison, +and ye've dressed him like a beggar, but ye've never been +able t' keep his brain and his soul from growin'! Ye've +never been able t' lock <i>them</i> up! Nor dress them badly! +And God be thanked for it!"</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-w!" snarled Barber. "I wish all <i>I</i> had t' do +was t' go from flat t' flat and talk sermons!"</p> + +<p>"Ye wish that, do ye?" cried the Father, rumpling his +red hair from the back of his neck upward. "Well, shure, +ye don't know what ye're talkin' about! For there isn't +annything harder than talkin' t' folks that haven't the +sense or the decency t' do what's right. And also—no +rascal pines t' be watched!"</p> + +<p>Barber stared. "What's y're grudge?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"A grudge is what I've got!" replied Father Pat. "It's +the kind I hold against anny man who mistreats children! +And while I live and draw breath, which won't be long, +I'll fight that kind o' a man whenever I meet him! And +I'll charge him with his sin, so help me God, before the +very bar o' Heaven!"</p> + +<p>Big Tom shrugged. "Y' ain't a well man," he said; +"and then again, y' happen t' be a priest. For both +which reasons I don't want no trouble with y'. So I'll be +obliged if y'll hire a hall, or find somebody else t' scold, +and let up on me for a change. This is Sunday, and +I'd like a little rest."</p> + +<p>Father Pat went a foot nearer to the longshoreman. +"Because I'm a priest," he answered, "I'll not be neglectin' +me duty. Ye can drive away scoutmasters, and others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a><a href="images/246.png">[246]</a></span> +that don't feel they've got a right t' tell ye the truth in +yer own house, but"—he tapped his chest—"here's one man +ye <i>won't</i> drive away!"</p> + +<p>Big Tom reached for his pipe and his hat. "Well, +stay then!" he returned.</p> + +<p>"Stay? That I will!" cried the Father. "The lad and +the girl, they've got a friend that's goin' t' stick as long +as his lungs'll let him."</p> + +<p>"Good!" mocked the longshoreman. "Fine!" He +pushed his hat down over the stubble of his hair, and went +out, slamming the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a><a href="images/247.png">[247]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE END OF A LONG DAY</h3> + + +<p class="cap">A LONG moment of breathless silence—while four +pairs of eyes fixed themselves upon the hall door, +and as many pairs of ears strained to follow the +creak and clump of Big Tom's departure. The sound of +his steps died away. Another, and a longer, wait, and the +door moved and rattled, that signal which marked the +opening and shutting of the area door three flights below. +The longshoreman was really gone. Cis laid her forehead +against an arm of the wheel chair, and burst into tears, +clinging to old Grandpa, and trembling, and frightening +him into weeping; whereupon Johnnie hurried to them, and +alternately patted them comfortingly, and Father Pat +came to stand over the three.</p> + +<p>"Dear! dear! dear!" exclaimed the priest. "But ain't +I glad that I came, though! Shure, the big baboon was +ugly! Ha-ha-a-a! And when he's like that, faith, and +how he throws the coconuts!"</p> + +<p>That fetched the smiles, even from Cis. And, "Oh-ho! +Here comes the sun!" cried the Father, beaming joyously +at them all. "Shure, we've had the thunderstorm, and +the air's clear, and so all the kittens dear can come out +o' their corners, and frisk a bit! Faith, I wasn't half as +mad as I sounded. No, I wasn't, old gentleman! (And +what's that he's holdin' on to? Bless me soul, is it a +doll?)" Then having taken up Letitia, and turned her +about, and chuckled over her, and given her into Grand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a><a href="images/248.png">[248]</a></span>pa's +outstretched hands again, "It's only that our +rampin' Mr. Barber," he explained, "wouldn't understand +me if I didn't give him a bit o' the rough edge o' me +tongue—no, nor respect me, neither! So I laid it on a +mite thick!—Oh, that man! Say, he'd sell the tears right +out o' yer eye! Yes, he would! He'd sell yer eyelashes t' +make a broom for a fly!"</p> + +<p>"Big Tom, he makes me awful 'fraid sometimes," confessed +Johnnie. "But he makes Cis lots 'fraider, 'cause +she's only a girl."</p> + +<p>"A girl!" cried the Father. "And ye think bein' a girl +is anny good reason for bein' afraid? Faith, little friend, +have ye not got hold o' a wrong notion entirely about +girls?" Then seeing that here was an opportunity to take +the thoughts of these two harried ones away from themselves, +"Children dear," he went on, "all this about girls +who are afraid reminds me o' a certain story. 'Twas in +Belgium it happened, a few years back, and in the city o' +Brussels, which is the capital. Oh, 'tis a grand and a +sorrowful story! So! Come now!" He wheeled Grandpa +to a place beside the morris chair, signed Cis to take the +kitchen chair, helped Johnnie to a perch on the table, and +sat again, the others drawn about his red head like so +many moths around a cheerful lamp.</p> + +<p>It was just as the tale of Edith Cavell ended that, most +opportunely, who should come stealing in but Mrs. Kukor, +pushing the door open with a slippered foot, for each hand +held a dish. The exciting events which had transpired +in the Barber flat being common property up and down +the area building, naturally she knew them; also, leaned +out of her own window, she had heard more than enough. +The paleness of her round face told how anxious she was.</p> + +<p>The priest stood up. "I'm Father Patrick Mungovan, +at yer service, ma'am," he said, bowing gravely.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor first wiped both plump hands upon a black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a><a href="images/249.png">[249]</a></span> +sateen apron. Then she extended one of them to the +priest. "Glat to meet!" she declared heartily. "Und glat +you wass come!"</p> + +<p>The Father shook hands warmly. "Shure, ma'am," he +declared, "our two young folks is likely not t' suffer for +lookin' after from now on, I'm thinkin', what with our little +League o' Nations."</p> + +<p>Tears welled into Mrs. Kukor's black eyes. "Over +Chonnie und Cis," she declared, "all times I wass full of +love. <i>Only</i>"—she lifted a short, fat finger—"nefer I haf +talk my Hebrew religions mit!"</p> + +<p>Father Pat gave her another bow, and a gallant one. +"Faith, Mrs. Kukor," said he, "the good Lord I worship +was a Hebrew lad from the hills o' Judea."</p> + +<p>Next, Mrs. Kukor had a look at the roses, whose fragrance +she inhaled with many excited exclamations of delight. +After that, there was ice cream and raisin cake, +enough for all. Every one served, the priest and Mrs. +Kukor were soon chatting away in the friendliest fashion.</p> + +<p>It was then that a regrettable accident occurred. In +spite of the fact that the ice cream was in a melting condition, +and the cake deliciously soft and crumbling, one of +those several dental bridges of the Father's suddenly became +detached, as it were, from its moorings, and had to +be rolled up in one corner of a handkerchief and consigned +to a pocket. Amid general condolences then, the +priest explained that the happening was not wholly unexpected, +since, in choosing a dentist, he had let his heart, +rather than his head, guide his selection, and had given +the work to an old and struggling man whose methods +were undoubtedly obsolete. "But ye see," he concluded, +"I knew at the time that the work would far outlast the +necessity for it, since I'll not be needin' anny teeth very +long"—a statement the full meaning of which fortunately +escaped the comprehension of his two young hearers. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a><a href="images/250.png">[250]</a></span> +ye might say," he went on, "that neither the cake nor the +cream have put a strain on that bridge, so I'll not be +blamin' the dentist. For ye see, it's like this: when I've +somethin' betwixt me teeth that's substantial, the danger +to the bridges is far less. It's when I've nothin' that I do +them the most damage, havin' so much grip t' me jaws, +and not annything t' work it out on."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor now rose to take her leave, explaining how +it happened that she did not want to have Mr. Barber +discover her there, since, if the longshoreman were to +decide that she was interfering in any way—too much—he +might, she feared, remove his household to some other, and +distant, flat, where she could not be near the children—oy! +oy! oy!</p> + +<p>Father Pat gave her his address. "Some day," he declared, +"ye might be wantin' t' send me a picture post card, +in which case ye'd need t' know where I live"—a remark +which made Johnnie believe that the Father must be particularly +fond of picture post cards! "But now and +again, I'll drop in t' see ye," promised the priest, "and t' +have a cup o' kosher tea! Shure, ma'am, in anny troublesome +matter, two heads is better than one, even if one +has been gassed!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor gone, Father Pat began to take thought +of his own leaving. But first he set about cheering up his +new, young friends, who were subdued, to say the least, +this in spite of the refreshments. "Now, shure, and there's +things about this place which could be far, far worse," +he asserted. "In this shady bit o' flat, ye're shut up, I +grant it. But consider what ye're shut away from—ugly +things, like fightin' and callin' names"—his argument being +intended chiefly for Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"And I don't mind about my old clothes," declared the +latter stoutly. "Anyhow, I don't mind 'cause they're +raggy. All I'm sorry for is that my rags don't <i>fit</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a><a href="images/251.png">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>Afterward he concluded that there must have been something +rather sensible about this remark of his—something +calculated to win approval. For the Father suddenly +reached out and took Johnnie into his arms, and +gave him a bearish hug, and laughed, and wiped the green +eyes (which were brimming), and laughed again, finally +falling into a coughing fit that sent Johnnie pell-mell for +a cup of water and made Cis wait in concern beside the +morris chair.</p> + +<p>The cough quieted soon, and again Father Pat was able +to talk. "Did ye ever hear another lad like him?" he +inquired of no one in particular. "Ah, God love him! +He doesn't mind his rags, only he wishes that they fit! +Dear, dear, rich, little, poor boy!"</p> + +<p>After he was gone, Johnnie and Cis sat in silence for a +good while, their young hearts being too full, and their +brains too busy, for speech. But at last, "Oh, why didn't +we ever know him before!" mourned Cis. "He lives close +by, and he's not afraid of <i>anything!</i>"</p> + +<p>"He's my friend for life!" vowed Johnnie. "And, oh, +Cis, this is who's like Galahad!—not Mister Perkins at +<i>all!</i> Mister Perkins is like—like Sir Percival, that's who +<i>he's</i> like. But Father Pat (don't y' <i>love</i> the name!) he +could sit on the Per'lous Seat, y' betcher life!—Oh, if <i>only</i> +his hair wasn't red!"</p> + +<p>When she had assured him that red was a most desirable +color for hair, since it meant a splendid fighting spirit, +he had to know all she could tell him about priests, which +was a good deal. "They can marry you, and they can +bury you," she began. "And they preach, and pray about +a hundred times as much as anybody else, and that's one +reason why he's so good. If you've done anything wicked, +though, you've got to tell a priest about it, and——"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell him about the toothbrush," promised Johnnie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a><a href="images/252.png">[252]</a></span> +"I won't mind tellin' him, some way or other, anyhow, and +it's bothered me, Cis, quite a lot—oh, yes, it has!"</p> + +<p>Cis did not mind the Father's knowing about their bargain; +provided, however, that she herself be allowed to +tell Mr. Perkins. She felt better already in her conscience, +she declared, and even sang as she set about rearranging +her roses. Each one of these she named with a girl's +name, Johnnie assisting; and the two were able, by the +curl of a petal, or the number of leaves on a stem, or some +other tiny sign, to tell Cora from Alice, and Elaine from +Blanchefleur, and the Princess Mary from Buddir al +Buddoor, as well as to recognize Rebecca, and Julia, and +Anastasia, and Gertie, and June—and so on through a +list that made little godmothers to the rosebuds out of +Cis's favorite acquaintances at the paper-box factory.</p> + +<p>Big Tom had little to say when he returned, but that +little was pleasant enough. When he went to bed, he left +his door wide. Grandpa had been allowed to stay beside +the kitchen window, and there Cis brought a quilt and +pillow, her own room being unbearably close and hot. As +for Johnnie, quite openly and boldly he shouldered his +roll of bedding and took it to the roof! (For after what +Father Pat had told them that day, could he, being a boy, +fail to do the daring thing? Also, were they not now under +the protecting care of a red-headed fighter?)</p> + +<p>Arrived on the roof, he did not lie down, but walked to +and fro. A far-off band was playing in the summer night, +at some pier or in an open space, and its music could be +faintly heard. Children were shouting as they returned +from the Battery. The grind of street cars came in low +waves, not unlike the rhythmic beat of the seas which he +had never seen. He shut his ears to every sound. Eastward +loomed up the iron network of the bridges, delicate +and beautiful against the starlit sky. South, and near by, +clustered the masts of scores of ships. North and West<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a><a href="images/253.png">[253]</a></span> +were the sky-piercing tops of the city's highest buildings. +Sights as well as sounds were softened and glorified by the +night, and by distance. But he saw—as he heard—nothing +of what was around him. He felt himself lifted high +above it all—away from it.</p> + +<p>That was because his spirit was uplifted. Just as Big +Tom, with his harsh methods, his ignorance, his lack of +sympathy and his surly tongue, could bring out any trait +that was bad in him, and at the same time plant a few that +did not exist, just so could Father Pat, kindly, wise, gentle, +gracious and manly, bring out every trait that was +good. And for a while at least, the priest had downed +and driven out every vestige of hatred and bitterness and +revenge from the boy's heart.</p> + +<p>Johnnie did not even think of Barber, or what the longshoreman +had done that day. In his brain was a picture +which thrilled and held him, if at the same time it tortured +him—a picture that he saw too keenly, and that would not +go away. It was of that brave Englishwoman, face to +face with her executioners.</p> + +<p>What a story!</p> + +<p>He shook his head over it, comparing it with <i>Treasure +Island</i> and all the others, and wishing he had it written +down, and marveling again over the rare courage of its +heroine. To be scolded and whipped was one thing; it +was quite another to be stood up against a wall in front +of a line of guns. And he remembered that he—a boy—had +not been able, this very day, to take even a strapping! +What if he had been asked to accept death?</p> + +<p>How far away—yes, as if it were days and days ago!—seemed +that order of Big Tom's to go out and sell Cis's +flowers! That was because this wonderful, heart-moving +tragedy of Edith Cavell's had happened in between! As +the sky slowly became overcast, and the darkness deepened,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a><a href="images/254.png">[254]</a></span> +he set himself to think the nurse there on the roof beside +him—a whiteclad, slender figure.</p> + +<p>He had done her a wrong in questioning the bravery of +girls, and she had died with her hands tied! "Oh, my!" +he breathed apologetically to the picture which his imagination +made of her, "if I was only <i>half</i> as brave as you!"</p> + +<p>He could keep her there before him not longer than a +moment. Then she wavered and went, and he found himself +standing beside his blanket roll. Though he covered +his eyes to make his pretend more vivid, she would not +return.</p> + +<p>However, she was to come again one day—to come and +sustain him in an hour of dreadful trial that was ahead, +though now, mercifully, he did not know it. And there +was to be another story, just as thrilling, if not more so, +which also would help him in that hour; and, later on, +would carry him through darker ones.</p> + +<p>With new visions in his brain, and new resolutions in +his boy's heart, he took up the bedding bundle and went +back to the flat. There he fell asleep in a room where +seventeen pink rosebuds spread their perfume.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a><a href="images/255.png">[255]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER GIFT</h3> + + +<p class="cap">NEXT morning it was plain that the roses had +brought about certain differences in the flat. Not +that there were any blunt orders, or quarrels. +Barber did not bring up the subject of Mr. Perkins and +his gift; in fact, he did not even address Cis once, though +he eyed her covertly now and again. But the good breakfast +which Johnnie had risen early to prepare was eaten +in a quiet that was strained, as if a storm were about to +break. Johnnie could not keep his heart from thumping +unpleasantly. And he was limp with relief when, a moment +or two after Cis took her departure, the longshoreman +went scuffing out.</p> + +<p>Then Johnnie's recovery was swift. On waking he had +whisked the flowers into Cis's room, guessing that the mere +sight of them would annoy Barber. Now he fetched them +out, let Grandpa enjoy a whiff of their perfume, poured +them fresh water (they held it like so many cups!), and +carried them to the window so they might breathe some +outdoor air. As it happened, that little girl with the dark +hair was sitting on her fire escape. Spying her, Johnnie +waved the blossoms at her, receiving in return a flashing +smile.</p> + +<p>He did not tarry long at the window. A scout does +not fail to do a given task; and on this summer day, with +the early sky already a hot gray-blue, the task to be done +was the washing. Heat or no heat, the boiler had to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a><a href="images/256.png">[256]</a></span> +take its place on the stove. The soapy steam of the cooking +drove out the roses's scent of course, but that did not +greatly matter so long as, every minute or so, Johnnie +was able to turn from his washboard and enjoy their pink +beauty.</p> + +<p>By eleven o'clock he had the washing on the line. The +flat was straightened up, too, and Grandpa was looking +his best. About noon, Father Pat, coming slowly up the +three flights, heard a series of slam bangings coming from +the direction of the Barber flat—also, sharp toot-toots, +and heavy chugs. And when the priest opened the hall +door and peeped in, a conductor's bell was ding-dinging, +while the empty wood box was careening madly in the +wake of the wheel chair.</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha-a! Johnnie lad!" he hailed. "And, shure, is +it a whole battery in action that I'm seein'?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie turned a pink and perspiring face which was +suddenly all smiles. To the joy of living a fascinating +think was now added the joy of finding still another person +who was ready to share it. "It's the biggest N'York +S'press!" he declared. "And we're takin' our vacation +trip!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, little pretender!" exclaimed the Father, fondly, +and with something like a note of pity. "But, oh, the +idea o' me not recognizin' a train! And especially the +Twentieth Century Limited when I look her right in the +headlight!"</p> + +<p>"We been t' the Ad'rondacks," informed Johnnie, "and +we got a load o' ice."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and that's treasure, truly," agreed the Father, +"on this scorchin' day! And ye've put the same into a +grand casket, if I'm not mistaken"—indicating the box.</p> + +<p>"A casket o' wood."</p> + +<p>"But precious, what with coal so high!"</p> + +<p>When the priest had settled himself in the morris chair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a><a href="images/257.png">[257]</a></span> +Johnnie came to lean close to this new friend who was +both an understanding and a sympathetic soul. "Want +t' hear a secret?" he half whispered.</p> + +<p>Father Pat was as mysterious as possible. "Shure, and +'tis me business t' hear secrets," he whispered back. "And +what's more, I never tell!"</p> + +<p>"Well," confided Johnnie, "there's a lot o' my friends—Jim +Hawkins, and Galahad, and Uncas, and, oh, dozens +o' others—all just ready t' come in!"</p> + +<p>"No-o-o-o!"</p> + +<p>"Honest!"</p> + +<p>"Galahad, too!—him with the grand scarlet robe, and +the chain mail t' the knees, and the locks as bright as yer +own! Well, I'm that glad t' hear it! and that <i>excited!</i>"</p> + +<p>Breathing a warning, Johnnie sped to the sink, rapped +once, then twice, then once again. A short wait, followed +by soft pad-pads on the floor overhead. Next down into +sight at the window came the basket, filled to the top with +books.</p> + +<p>At sight of the basket, for some reason Father Pat +suddenly seemed anxious; and as Johnnie drew it to the +window sill, the priest pried himself up out of the big +chair. "Shure, 'tis divvlement!" he pronounced. "Yet +still 'tis grand! Only keep 'em all right there, lad dear, +and I'll come over t' be introduced."</p> + +<p>Proudly and impressively Johnnie proffered first his +<i>Aladdin</i>. Nodding delightedly, the Father took it. "Yes, +'tis the very same Aladdin!" he declared. "Ye know, I +was afraid maybe the Aladdin I know and this one were +two diff'rent gentlemen. But, no!—Oh, in the beginnin' +weren't ye afraid, little reader dear, that this friend o' +ours would end up wrong? and be lazy and disobedient t' +the last, gaddin' the streets when he ought t' be helpin' his +mamma?"</p> + +<p>"But he turned out fine!" reminded Johnnie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a><a href="images/258.png">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now the other precious volumes had their introduction. +And, "All bread—<i>rale</i> bread!" said the Father as he looked +at them. "Not stones! No!" But he handed them back +rather too quickly, according to Johnnie's idea. However, +the latter was to know why at once; for with a sharp +glance toward the hall door, "Now, who d' ye think was +sittin' on a step in front o' the house as I came in—his +dinner pail 'twixt his two feet?" asked the priest. "The +big ogre himself!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" The pipe rang to Johnnie's hurried knockings, +which he repeated in such a panic that Mrs. Kukor could +be heard rocking about in excited circles. And it seemed +minutes (though it was not half of one) before the basket-strings +tightened and the books went jerking up to safety. +Then, "My! What if he'd walked in while they was down!" +Johnnie exclaimed. "And why didn't he go t' work? +What's he waitin' for?"</p> + +<p>They had the same explanation at the same moment. +<i>Mr. Perkins!</i> So what might not happen, down there in +the area, when the longshoreman, lying in wait for his +victim, stopped the giver of bouquets?</p> + +<p>Something besides the heat of midday made Johnnie +feel very weak of a sudden, so that he had to sit down. +"Now, shush! shush!" comforted the Father. "Shure, +and the ogre'll not be eatin' up anny scoutmaster this +day. No, no. There'll be nothin' more than a tongue-lashin', +so breathe easy, lad dear!"</p> + +<p>"But Mister Perkins won't come any more!" argued +Johnnie, plaintively. "And so how'll I finish learnin' t' +be a scout? Oh, Father Pat!"</p> + +<p>While the next hour went by, it was an anxious little +figure that sat opposite the priest, listening, listening—for +some loud angry words out of the area, or heavy steps upon +the stairs. That entrance below could not be seen from +the window. And Johnnie could not bring himself to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a><a href="images/259.png">[259]</a></span> +down. One o'clock came and passed. But Mr. Perkins +did not come. So, undoubtedly, Big Tom had seen the +scoutmaster. But whatever had happened, all had been +quiet. That was some consolation.</p> + +<p>"It's funny about my friends," observed Johnnie at last. +He shook a discouraged head. "Some way, I never have +more'n one at a time."</p> + +<p>The Father set about cheering him up. "Ah-ha, now, +and let's not worry a bit more!" he urged. "Shure, and +I've climbed up here this day t' ask ye a question, which +is: if Father Pat was t' say t' ye that he'd bring ye a new +book the next time he chanced by, why, then, little lover o' +readin', just what kind o' a book would ye best like t' +have?"</p> + +<p>Here was something to coax the mind away from concern! +"Oh, my!" said Johnnie. "<i>Another</i> book? A <i>new</i> +one?" Getting up to think about his answer, he chanced +to glance out of the window. And instantly he knew what +he should like. "Oh, Father Pat!" he cried. "Has—has +anybody ever made up a book about the stars?"</p> + +<p>"The stars!" the Father cried back. "Shure, lad dear, +certain gentlemen called astronomers have been writin' +about the stars for hundreds o' years. And they've named +the whole lot! And weighed and measured 'em, Johnnie,—think +o' the impudence o' that! Yes, and they've +weighed the Sun, and taken the measure o' the Moon! +Also, there's the comets, which're called after the men +who first find 'em. And, oh, think what it's like t' have yer +name tied t' the tail o' a comet for a million years! +Ho-ho! ho-ho! That's an honor! Ye never own the comet, +still 'tis yours!"</p> + +<p>"My! I'd like t' find a Johnnie Smith comet!" declared +Johnnie. "And after all"—solemnly—"I think I won't +try t' be President; nope, I'll be a 'stronomer."</p> + +<p>"Faith," rejoined the Father, the green eyes shining<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a><a href="images/260.png">[260]</a></span> +roguishly, "and there's points o' resemblance 'twixt the +two callin's. Both o' them, if I ain't mistaken, are calculated +t' keep a conscientious man awake o' nights!"</p> + +<p>"I'll be awful glad t' have a star-book," decided Johnnie. +"Thank y' for it."</p> + +<p>The priest smiled fondly at the ragged little figure silhouetted +against the window. "Shure, and that's the book +I'll be buying for ye," he promised. "And in the crack o' +a hen's thumb!"</p> + +<p>The Father ended his visit to the building by going +upstairs, which fact Johnnie knew because of the walking +around he could hear overhead, and the chair scrapings. +But before Father Pat left the Barber flat Johnnie told +him about going up on the roof (though he did not confess +that Cis knew about it, or that he had bought her +silence with the toothbrush). His new friend listened +without a word of blame, only looking a trifle grave. "And +what do ye think ye ought t' do for Madam, the janitress?" +he asked when Johnnie had finished his admission. +"For as I see it, she's the one entitled t' complain."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell y'," answered Johnnie, earnestly; "I've swept +off the roof twice, good's I could, and I've swept the stairs +that go up t' the roof. And once I swept this hall."</p> + +<p>"A true scout!" pronounced the Father. "And I'm not +doubtin' that if ye'd promise t' go on doin' the same, +Madam'd be glad t' let ye go up. Suppose ye try the suggestion."</p> + +<p>Johnnie promised to try.</p> + +<p>Late that afternoon the saddest thing happened: the +roses died. They had been looking sick, and not at all +like themselves, since before noontime. As Johnnie, preparing +to set his supper table, lifted the quart milk bottle +which held the bouquet, intending again to place it on +Cis's dressing-box, the flowers, with a sound that was +almost like a soft sigh, showered their crumpling petals<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a><a href="images/261.png">[261]</a></span> +upon the oilcloth. Shocked, Johnnie set the bottle quickly +down. But only seventeen bare stalks were left in it. The +last sweet leaf had dropped.</p> + +<p>He stood for a little looking down. The first shock +past, his whole being became alive with protest. Oh, why +should beautiful flowers ever have to die? It was wrong! +And there swept over him the hated realization that an +end comes to things. He could have wept then, but he +knew that scout boys do not give way to tears. For the +first time in his life he was understanding something of +life's prime tragedy—change. Girls grow up, dolls go +out of favor, roses fade.</p> + +<p>He could not bear to throw the petals away. Very +gently he gathered them up in his two hands and put them +into a shallow crockery dish, and sprinkled them with a +little cool water. "Gee! What'll Cis say when she sees +them!" he faltered. (How live and sturdy they had seemed +such a little while ago!)</p> + +<p>"Cis," he told her sadly when she came in (just a +moment before Big Tom returned from work), "Blanchfleur, +and Cora, and Elaine, and Gertie, and all—they fell +t' pieces!"</p> + +<p>She was not cast down by the news or the sight of the +bowl. She had, she said, expected it, the weather being +warm and the flat hot. After that, so far as he could see, +she did not give the flowers another thought. When he +told her that Father Pat had discovered the longshoreman +waiting for Mr. Perkins in the area, she was not surprised +or concerned. In the usual evening manner, she brushed +and freshened and pressed, smiling as she worked. She +seemed entirely to have forgotten all the unhappy hours +of the day before. True, she started if Barber spoke to +her, and her quaint face flushed. But that was all.</p> + +<p>"Clear grown-up!" Johnnie told himself as he put the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a><a href="images/262.png">[262]</a></span> +petals out of sight on a cupboard shelf, laying the stems +beside them.</p> + +<p>"Everything's going to be all right," she assured him +when she told him good night, "now that we've got Father +Mungovan." (So that was why she was so happy! Or +was it because she was engaged? Johnnie wondered.)</p> + +<p>In the days that followed Father Pat became a familiar +figure in and about the area building. (And this was fortunate +for Johnnie, since Mr. Perkins's visits had suddenly +come to an end.) Almost at any hour the priest +might be seen slowly crossing the brick pavement, or +more slowly climbing the stairs on his way to the Barber +flat. When he was not at Johnnie's, reading aloud out of +the book on astronomy while Johnnie threaded beads, he +might be found overhead in Mrs. Kukor's bright kitchen, +resting in a rocker, a cup of tea nursed in both hands, and +holding long, confidential and (to Johnnie) mysterious +conversations, which the latter wished so much he might +share, though he always discouraged the wish, understanding +that it was not at all polite to want to be where he +was not invited.</p> + +<p>He and the priest, of course, had their own lengthy and +delightful talks. Sometimes it would be Johnnie who +would have the most to say. Perhaps he would tell Father +Pat about one of his thinks: a vision, say, of high roof-bridges, +built far above the crowded, noisy streets—arched, +steel bridges, swung from the summit of one tall building +to another like the threads of a spider's web. Each bridge +was to be lighted by electricity, and "I'll push Grandpa's +wheel chair all across the top o' N'York!" he declared.</p> + +<p>Father Pat did not laugh at this think. On the contrary, +he thought it both practical and grand. Indeed, +he laughed at none of Johnnie's ideas, and would listen +in the gravest fashion as the boy described a new think-bicycle +which had arrived from Wanamaker's just that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a><a href="images/263.png">[263]</a></span> +minute—accompanied by a knife with three blades and +a can opener. The Father agreed that there were points +in favor of a bicycle which took up no room in so small +a flat, and required no oiling. And if Johnnie went so +far as to mount the shining leather seat of his latest purchase +and circle the kitchen table (Boof scampering alongside), +the priest would look on with genuine interest, +though the pretend-bicycle was the same broomstick which, +on other occasions, galloped the floor as a dappled steed +of Aladdin's.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Father Pat entered into Johnnie's +games like any boy. Unblushing, he telephoned over the +Barber clothesline. More than once, with whistles and +coaxings and pats, he fed the dog! He even thought up +games of his own. "Now ye think I'm comin' in alone," +he said one morning. "That's because ye see nobody else. +But, ho-ho! What deceivin'! For, shure, right here in +me pocket I've got a friend—Mr. Charles Dickens!"</p> + +<p>On almost every visit he would have some such surprise. +Or perhaps he would fetch in just a bit of news. "I hear +they're thinkin' o' raisin' a statoo o' Colonel Roosevelt at +the Sixth Avenoo entrance to Central Park," he told +Johnnie one day. "And I'm informed it's t' be Roosevelt +the Rough Rider. Now at present the statoo's but a +thought—a thought in the minds o' men and women, but +in the brain o' a sculptor in particular. However, there'll +come a day when the thought'll freeze into bronze. Dear +me, think o' that!"</p> + +<p>At all times how ready and willing he was to answer +questions! "Ask me annything," he would challenge smilingly. +He was a mine, a storehouse, yes, a very fountain +of knowledge, satisfying every inquiry, settling every argument—even +to that one regarding the turning of the +earth. And so Johnnie would constantly propound: How +far does the snow fall? Why doesn't the rain hurt when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a><a href="images/264.png">[264]</a></span> +it hits? Do flies talk? What made Grandpa grow old?</p> + +<p>Ah, those were the days which were never to be forgotten!</p> + +<p>There came a day which brought with it an added joy. +So often Johnnie had mourned the fact that he did not +have more than one friend at a time. But late on a +blazing August afternoon, just as the Father was getting +up to take his leave, the hall door squeaked open slowly, +and there on the threshold, with his wide hat, his open vest, +watchchain, furred breeches and all, was One-Eye! ("Oh, +two at a time, now!" Johnnie boasted to Cis that night. +"Two at a time!")</p> + +<p>Yet at first he was not able to believe his own eyes. +Neither was Father Pat. The priest stared at the cowboy +like a man in a daze. Then he looked away, winking and +pursing his lips. Once more he stared. At last, one hand +outstretched uncertainly, he crossed to One-Eye and cautiously +touched him.</p> + +<p>Not understanding, One-Eye very respectfully took the +hand, and shook it. "How are y'?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! So ye <i>do</i> exist!" breathed the Father, huskily. +Then shaking hands again, "Shure, I've heard about ye +for this long time, but was under the impression that ye +was only a spook!"</p> + +<p>Warm were the greetings exchanged now by the cowboy +and Johnnie. One-Eye was powerfully struck by the +improvement in the latter's physical appearance. "Gee-whillikens, +sonny!" he cried. "W'y, y're not half as +peeked as y' used t' be! Y're fuller in the face! And a +lot taller! <i>Say!</i>" And when Johnnie explained that it +was mostly due to a quart of milk which a certain Mr. +Perkins had been bringing to him six days out of seven +(until the supply had been cut off along with the visits +of the donor), without another syllable, up got One-Eye +and tore out, leaving the door open, and raising a pillar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a><a href="images/265.png">[265]</a></span> +of dust on the stairs in the wake of his spurs. He was +back in no time, a quart of ice-cold milk in either hand. +"If he likes it," he explained to Father Pat, "and if it's +good for him, w'y, they ain't no reason under the shinin' +sun w'y he can't have it.—Sonny, I put in a' order for a +quart ev'ry mornin'. And I paid for six months in advance."</p> + +<p>His own appearance was not what it had been formerly. +He looked less leathery, and lanker. In answer to Johnnie's +anxious inquiry, he admitted that he had been sick, +"Havin' et off, accidental, 'bout half a' inch o' mustache;" +though, so far as Johnnie could see, none of the sandy +ornament appeared to be missing. And where had he been +all this long time? Oh, jes' shuttlin' 'twixt Cheyenne and +the ranch.</p> + +<p>His sickness had changed him in certain subtle ways. +He had less to say than formerly, did not mention Barber, +did not ask after Cis, and jiggled one foot constantly, as +if he were on the point of again jumping up and taking +flight. Father Pat gone, he brightened considerably +as he discussed the departed guest. "Soldier, eh!" he exclaimed. +"Wal, young feller, I'll say this preachin' gent +ain't no ev'ryday, tenderfoot parson! No, ma'am! He's +got savvy!"</p> + +<p>He was politely attentive, if not enthusiastic, when +Johnnie told him more about Mr. Perkins, the future scout +dwelling especially upon that rosy time which would see +him in uniform ("but how I'm goin' t' get that, I don't +know"). Johnnie did all the setting-up exercises for the +Westerner, too; and, as a final touch, displayed for his +inspection an indisputably clean neck!</p> + +<p>But Johnnie had saved till the last the crowning news +of all. And he felt certain that if the cowboy had shown +not more than a lively interest in Father Pat, and had +been only politely heedful regarding boy scouts, things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a><a href="images/266.png">[266]</a></span> +would be altogether different when he heard about the +engagement.</p> + +<p>"One-Eye," began Johnnie, impressively, "I got somethin' +<i>else</i> t' tell y'. Oh, it's somethin' that'll su'prise y' +<i>awful!</i> What d' y' think it is?"</p> + +<p>One-Eye was in the morris chair at the time, his hat on, +his single organ of vision roving the kitchen. In particular, +it roved in the direction of the tiny room, where, +through the open door, could be seen dimly the gay paper +flounces bedecking Cis's dressing-table. "Aw, I dunno," +he answered dully.</p> + +<p>"But, <i>guess</i>, One-Eye!" persisted Johnnie, eager to fire +the cowboy's curiosity. "Guess! And I'll help y' out by +tellin' y' this much: it's 'bout Cis."</p> + +<p>Ah! That caught the interest! Johnnie could tell by +the way that single eye came shooting round to hold his +own. "Yeh?" exclaimed the Westerner. "Wal—? +Wal—?" He leaned forward almost impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Cis and Mister Perkins 're goin' t' be married."</p> + +<p>One-Eye continued to stare; and Johnnie saw the +strangest expression come into the green eye. Anger +seemed a part of that expression, and instantly Johnnie +regretted having shared the news (but why <i>should</i> the +cowboy be angry?) Also there was pain in the look. Then +did One-Eye disapprove?</p> + +<p>At this last thought, Johnnie hastened to explain how +things stood in the flat. "Big Tom, he don't know they're +goin' t' be married," he said, "and we'd be 'fraid t' tell +him."</p> + +<p>"I—I savvy." Now One-Eye studied the floor. Presently, +as if he were busy with his thoughts, he reached up +and dragged his hat far down over his blind eye. The +hat settled, he settled himself—lower and lower in the +big chair, his shoulders doubling, his knees falling apart,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a><a href="images/267.png">[267]</a></span> +his clasped hands hanging between his knees and all but +touching his boots. Thus he stayed for a little, bowed.</p> + +<p>All this was so different from what Johnnie had expected +that again he suspected displeasure—toward Cis, toward +himself; and as with a sinking, miserable heart he watched +his visitor, he wished from his soul that he had kept the +engagement to himself. "Y' ain't g-g-glad," he stammered +finally.</p> + +<p>However, as Johnnie afterward remarked to Cis, when +it came to judging what the cowboy felt about this or that, +a person never could tell. For, "Glad?" repeated One-Eye, +raising the bent head; "w'y, sonny, I'm tickled t' +death t' hear it!—jes' plumb tickled t' death!" (And how +was Johnnie to know that this was not strictly the truth?)</p> + +<p>The next afternoon, while Father Pat was reading +aloud the story of the Sangreal, here entered One-Eye +again, stern purpose in the very upturning of that depleted +mustache. "Figgered mebbe I could ask y' t' do +somethin' fer me," he told the priest. "It's concernin' +that scout proposition o' Johnnie's. Seems like he'll be +needin' a uniform pretty soon, won't he? Wondered if +y'd mind pur-<i>chasin'</i> it." Then down upon the kitchen +table he tossed a number of crisp, green bills.</p> + +<p>Stunned at sight of so much money, paralyzed with +emotion, and tongue-tied, Johnnie could only stare. Afterward +he remembered, with a bothersome, worried feeling, +that he had not thanked One-Eye before the latter took +his leave along with Father Pat. That night on the roof +he walked up and down while he whispered his gratitude to +a One-Eye who was a think. "Oh, it just stuck in my +throat, kind of," he explained. "Oh, I'm sorry I acted +so funny!" (Why did the words of appreciation simply +flow from between his lips now? though he had not been +able to whisper one at the proper time!)</p> + +<p>That night, wearing the uniform he had not yet seen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a><a href="images/268.png">[268]</a></span> +he took a long pretend-walk; but not along any street of +the East Side; not even up Fifth Avenue. He chose a +garden set thick with trees. There was a lake in the garden; +and wonderful birds flew about—parrots, they were, +like the ones owned by Crusoe. For a new suit of an +ordinary kind, any thoroughfare of the city might have +done well enough. But the new uniform demanded a special +setting. And this place of enchantment was Mr. Rockefeller's +private park!</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the night would never go! Next morning, +it seemed as if Big Tom would never go, nor the Father +come. But at an early hour the latter did appear, panting, +in his arms a large pasteboard box. At sight of that box, +Johnnie felt almost faint. But when the string was cut, +and the cover taken off, disclosing a crisp, clean, khaki +uniform, with little, breathless cries, and excited exclamations, +yes, and with wet lashes, he caught the gift up in +his arms and held it against him, embracing it. It was +his! His! Oh, the overwhelming joy of knowing it was +his!</p> + +<p>Though there was, of course, a chance that another +strike might happen, and Big Tom come trudging home, +nevertheless Johnnie could not resist the temptation of +donning the precious outfit, seeing himself in it, and showing +himself to the Father. But first he took a thorough +hand-wash, this to guard against soiling a new garment; +to insure against surprise while he was putting the clothes +on, he scurried into Cis's room with the armful, leaving +Father Pat in the morris chair, from where the latter +called out advice now and again.</p> + +<p>On went everything. Not without mistakes, however, +and some fumbling, in the poor light, over strange fastenings +(all of Johnnie's fingers had turned into thumbs). +The Father had done his part particularly well, and the +suit fitted nicely. So did the leggings, so soon as Johnnie,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a><a href="images/269.png">[269]</a></span> +discovering that he had them on upside down, inverted +them. The buttoning and the belting, the lacing and the +knotting, at an end, he put on the hat. But was undecided +as to whether or not he should wear it at a slant of forty-five +degrees, as One-Eye wore his, or straight, as was Mr. +Perkins's custom. Finally he chose the latter fashion, took +a long breath, like a swimmer coming up out of the depths, +and—walked forth in a pair of squeaking brown shoes.</p> + +<p>How different from the usual Johnnie Smith he looked! +He had lost that curious chunky appearance which Barber's +old clothes gave him, and which was so misleading. +On the other hand, his thin arms and pipelike legs were +concealed, respectively, by becoming cloth and canvas. +As for his body, it was slender, and lithe. And how +straight he stood! And how smart was his appearance! +And how tall he seemed!</p> + +<p>The priest threw up astonished hands. "Shure," he +cried, "and is this annybody I know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is! I am!" declared Johnnie, flushing under +the brim of the olive-drab hat. "It's me, Father Pat! +Oh, my! Do I look fine? D' y' like it?"</p> + +<p>Grandpa did, for he was circling Johnnie, cackling with +excitement. "Oh, go fetch Mother!" he pleaded. "Go +fetch Mother!—Oh, Mother, hurry up! Come and see +Johnnie!"</p> + +<p>The Father walked in circles too, exclaiming and admiring. +"It can't be a certain little lad who lives in the +Barber flat," he puzzled. "So who can it be? No, I don't +know this small soldier, and I'll thank ye if ye'll introduce +me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," answered Johnnie, "I ain't 'zac'ly sure I'm myself! +Oh, Father Pat, isn't it wonderful?—and I know +I've got it 'cause I can take hold of it, and <i>smell</i> it! Oh, +my goodness!" A feeling possessed him which he had +never had before—a feeling of pride in his personal ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a><a href="images/270.png">[270]</a></span>pearance. +With it came a sense of self-respect. "And <i>I</i> +seem t' be new, and clean, and fine," he added, "jus' like +the clothes!"</p> + +<p>"Ye're a wee gentleman!" asserted the Father; "—a +soldier and a gentleman!" And he saluted Johnnie.</p> + +<p>Johnnie returned the salute—twice! Whereupon +Grandpa fell to saluting, and calling out commands in +his quavering old voice, and trying to stand upon his +slippered feet.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all the uproar, "Oh, One-Eye! One-Eye! +One-Eye!" For here, piling one happiness upon another, +here was the cowboy, staggering in under the weight of +a huge, ice-cold watermelon.</p> + +<p>"That's my name!" returned the Westerner, grinning. +"But y' better take the eggs outen my pockets 'fore ye +grab me like that. Y' know eggs can bust."</p> + +<p>When the eggs were rescued, along with a whole pound +of butter, Johnnie saluted One-Eye. Next, he held out +his hand. "Oh, I—I think you're awful good," he declared +(he had thought up this much of his speech the +night before on the roof).</p> + +<p>One-Eye waved him away as if he were a fly, and said +"Bosh!" a great many times as Johnnie tried to continue. +Finally, to change the subject, the cowboy broke into +that sad song about his mother, which stopped any further +attempt to thank him.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell y' what," he declared when Johnnie's mind +was at last completely diverted from his polite intention; +"they's jes' one thing shy. Yeppie, one. What y' need +now is a nice, fine, close hair cut."</p> + +<p>"At a—at a barber's?" Johnnie asked, already guessing +the answer.</p> + +<p>"Come along!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, One-Eye!" gasped Johnnie. (Oh, the glory of +going out in the uniform! and with the cowboy! And how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a><a href="images/271.png">[271]</a></span> +would he ever be able to take the new suit off!) "But if I +wear it out, and <i>he</i> sees me, and——"</p> + +<p>One-Eye was at the door, ready to lead the way. +(Father Pat would stay behind with Grandpa.) The +cowboy turned half about. "If Barber was t' find out," +he answered, "and so much as laid a little finger on that +suit, he'd have t' settle matters with <i>me</i>. Come!"</p> + +<p>Like one in an enchanted dream, Johnnie followed on in +his stiff, new shoes. It was noon, and as they emerged from +the dark hallway which led into the main street to the +north, the sidewalks were aswarm. Indeed, the doorstep +which gave from the hall to the pave was itself planted +thick with citizens of assorted sizes. To get out, One-Eye +lifted his spurred boots high over the heads of two small +people. But Johnnie, doffing the scout hat with practiced +art, "'Scuse me, please," he begged, in perfect imitation +of Mr. Perkins; and in very awe fully six of the seated, +having given a backward glance, and spied that uniform, +rose precipitately to let him by.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie Barber!" gasped some one. "What d' y' +know!" demanded another. From a third came a long, +low whistle of amazement.</p> + +<p>Johnnie's ears stung pleasantly. "Hear 'em?" he asked +One-Eye. "Course they mean me!"</p> + +<p>"Ad-mi-ra-tion," pronounced the cowboy, who always +took his big words thus, a syllable at a time. "Sonny, +y've knocked 'em all pie-eyed!"</p> + +<p>The barber shop was not nearly so regal as that restaurant +of fond and glorious memory. Yet in its way it +was splendid; and it was most interesting, what with its +lean-back chairs, man-high mirrors, huge stacks of towels, +lines of glittering bottles, and rows of shaving mugs (this +being a neighborhood shop). And how deliciously it +smelled!</p> + +<p>It was a little, dark gentleman in a gleaming white coat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a><a href="images/272.png">[272]</a></span> +who waved Johnnie into one of the chairs—from which, +his eyes wide and eager, the latter viewed himself as never +before, from his bare head to his knees, and scarcely knew +himself!</p> + +<p>One-Eye came to stand over the chair. "Now, don't y' +give the boy one of them dis-gustin', round, mush-bowl +hair cuts!" he warned, addressing the small, dark man. +"Nope. He wants the reg'lar old-fashioned kind, with a +feather edge right down t' the neck."</p> + +<p>When one travels about under the wing of a millionaire, +all things happen right. This was Johnnie's pleased conclusion +as, with a snip, snip, snip, the bright scissors did +their quick work over his yellow head. He had a large +white cloth pinned about his shoulders (no doubt the +barber had noted the uniform, and was giving it fitting protection), +and upon that cloth fell the severed bits of hair, +flecking it with gold. In what One-Eye described afterward +as "jig-time," the last snip was made. Then Johnnie +had his neck dusted with a soft brush, the white cloth +was removed, and he stood up, shorn and proud.</p> + +<p>Outside, several boys were hanging against the window, +peering in. As Johnnie settled his hat he recalled something +Father Pat had once said about the desirability of +putting one's self in another person's place. Johnnie did +that, and realized what a fortunate boy he was—with his +wonderful friend at his side, his uniform on his back, and +"a dandy hair cut." So as he went out in One-Eye's +wake, "Hullo!" he called to the boys in the most cordial +way.</p> + +<p>"And I reckon we look some punkins?" the cowboy observed +when they were back in the flat once more.</p> + +<p>"Shure," replied Father Pat, "and what's more civilizin' +than a barber shop!"</p> + +<p>And now the question was, how could Cis view Johnnie +in all his military magnificence without putting that new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a><a href="images/273.png">[273]</a></span> +uniform in danger? One-Eye had the answer: he would +be down in the area when Big Tom arrived from work, +"And off we'll go for see-gars," he plotted, "so the field'll +be clear."</p> + +<p>However, as he waited for Cis, Johnnie could not bring +himself to take too many chances with One-Eye's superb +gift, and hid it, though he felt hot enough, beneath Barber's +big clothes (and how fortunate it was that the longshoreman's +cast-offs were voluminous enough to go over +everything). Thus doubly clad, he looked exceedingly +plump and padded. That was not the worst of it. The +sleeves of the new coat showed. But all he had to do was +draw up over them that pair of Cis's stockings which had +kept his thin arms warm during the past winter. Of course +his leggings and the shoes also showed, so he took these +off. Then perspiring, but happy, he watched his two +friends go, giving them a farewell salute.</p> + +<p>Cis came in promptly. "Oh, all day I've hardly been +able to wait!" she declared. Then with upraised hands, +"Oh, Johnnie, how <i>beautiful</i> you are! Oh, you're like a +picture! Like a picture I once saw of a boy who sang in +a church! Oh, Johnnie, you're the best-looking scout in +all New York! Yes, you are! And I'm going to kiss you!"</p> + +<p>He let her, salving his slight annoyance thereat with the +thought that no one could see. "But don't say anythin' +t' the Father 'r One-Eye about me bein' beautiful," he +pleaded. "Will y'? Huh?"</p> + +<p>She promised she would not. "Oh, Johnnie," she cried +again, having taken a second view of him from still another +angle, and in another light, "that khaki's almost the +color of your hair!"—which partly took the joy out of +things!</p> + +<p>Yet, under the circumstances, no pang of any sort +could endure very long. Particularly as—following the +proper signal—Johnnie went to Mrs. Kukor's, Cis at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a><a href="images/274.png">[274]</a></span> +brown heels. Arrived, he saluted an astonished lady who +did not at first recognize him; then he took off the new +hat to her. She was quite stunned (naturally), and could +only sink into a rocker, hands waving, round head wagging. +But next, a very torrent of exclamations, all in Yiddish. +After that, "Soch stylish!" she gasped rapturously. "Pos-i-tivvle!"</p> + +<p>Back in the flat again, Johnnie took off the uniform. +That called for will power; but he dared not longer risk +his prized possession. Late that night, when Big Tom +had eaten to repletion of the watermelon, and smoked himself +to sleep on one of One-Eye's cigars, Johnnie reached +in around the jamb of Cis's door and cautiously drew that +big suit box to him. In the morning it would have to join +the books upstairs. However, for a happy, dark hour or +two he could enjoy the outfit. How crisp and clean and +strong it felt! Blushing at his own foolishness, he lifted +the cowboy's gift to his lips and kissed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a><a href="images/275.png">[275]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER STORY</h3> + + +<p class="cap">THE first Sunday in September was a day that +Johnnie was never to forget. Big Tom, Grandpa, +Cis, and he—all were gathered about the kitchen +table for the noon meal when Father Pat and One-Eye +came in, the Father without his usual cheery greeting, +though there was nothing downcast in his look or manner. +On the contrary, something of pride was in his step, slow +as that step was, and also in his glance, which instantly +sought out Johnnie. The face of the cowboy, however, +was stern, and that single eye, greener than either—or +both—of the Father's, was iron-hard and coldly averted.</p> + +<p>As the hall door shut at their backs, the priest raised +his right hand in a gesture which was partly a salutation, +partly a blessing. "Barber," he began solemnly (the +longshoreman, having given the visitors a swift and surly +look, had gone on busily with his eating), "we've come +this mornin' about the Blake matter."</p> + +<p>Startled, Big Tom threw down his knife and rose, instantly +on the defensive; and Johnnie and Cis, watching, +understood at once that "the Blake matter" was one known +to the longshoreman, not welcomed by him, though most +important. "Oh, y' seen that guy, Davis, eh?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Not one hour ago," answered the priest, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Tuh!"—it was an angry sneer. "And I s'pose he +whined 'bout me takin' the kid?—though he could do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a><a href="images/276.png">[276]</a></span> +nothin' for Johnnie. Sophie was dead, and the kid was +too little t' be left alone."</p> + +<p>"Ye took the lad the day Albert Davis was half crazed +over his wife," charged the Father; "—hurried him off +without a word or a line! A bad trick altogether! Oh, +Davis guessed ye had the boy—the wee Johnnie he loved +like a father. But he had small time t' hunt, what with +his work. And at last he had t' give up."</p> + +<p>All that told Johnnie a great deal. He shot a look at +Cis. Barber had taunted him often with his Uncle Albert's +indifference—with the fact that not even a post +card had ever come from the rich man's garage to the +lonely little boy in the area building. But how <i>could</i> +Uncle Albert send a post card to some one if he did not +know that some one's address?</p> + +<p>Barber kicked the morris chair out of his way. "That's +the thanks I git for supportin' a youngster who ain't no +kin t' me!" he stormed.</p> + +<p>Father Pat drew himself up. The red stubble on his +bare head seemed stiff with righteous wrath. "Then I'll +ask ye why ye kidnapped the lad?" he cried. "No kin t' +ye, eh? And ye knew it, didn't ye? Then! So why didn't +ye leave the boy with Davis?—Because ye wanted his +work!"</p> + +<p>"Work!" repeated Barber, and broke into a shrill laugh. +"Why, he wasn't worth his feed! I took him jus' t' be +decent!"</p> + +<p>"Barber," returned the Father, firmly, "the tellin' o' +a lie against annybody is always a bad thing. But there's +another kind o' lie that's even worse, and that's lying t' +<i>yerself</i>—that ye was thinkin' o' <i>his</i> good when ye rushed +him away, and not o' yer own pocket!" Then, nodding +wisely as he took the chair Big Tom booted aside, "<i>If</i> ye +wanted t' be so decent, why didn't ye take the lad when +his father and mother died? Ha-a-a! He was too tiny t'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a><a href="images/277.png">[277]</a></span> +be useful then, wasn't he? So ye let Sophie Davis bring +him up; ye let his uncle support him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," rejoined the longshoreman, resentfully. +"I guess when y've made up your mind about a man, there +ain't no use talkin' t' y', is there?"</p> + +<p>"No use, Mr. Barber," answered the other. "And this +very mornin', while I've still got the breath and the +strength t' do it, I mean t' tell the lad the truth!"</p> + +<p>"I been intendin' t' tell him myself," asserted Barber. +"But up t' now, it wasn't no story t' be tellin' a little kid—leastways, +not a kid that's got a loony way o' seein' +things, and worryin' over 'em. And I warn y'! Y're +likely as not t' make him sick!"</p> + +<p>The priest chuckled. "Y' ought t' know about that," +he agreed. "Seein' that ye've made him sick yerself, often +enough."</p> + +<p>At that, with a backward tip of his head, so that the +wide hat fell off, and with the strangest, rasping, strangling +sound in his skinny throat (his great, hairy Adam's-apple +leaping, now high, now low), One-Eye began to +laugh, at the same time beginning a series of arm-wavings, +slapping first one thigh and then the other. "Har! har! +har!" he ejaculated hoarsely.</p> + +<p>With a muttered curse, Big Tom walked to the door. +"Go ahead!" he cried. "But <i>I</i> don't set 'round and listen +t' the stuff!" Black, fuming, he slammed his way out.</p> + +<p>One-Eye pointed out the kitchen chair to Cis; and when +she was seated, got the wood box and set it on its side. +"Come and roost along with me," he bade Johnnie, the +single eye under the wet-combed, tawny bang smiling almost +tenderly at the boy.</p> + +<p>When they were all comfortably settled, "Our good +friend here got most o' the information," informed +Father Pat. "So, One-Eye, wouldn't ye like t'——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not me! Not me!" the Westerner answered quick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a><a href="images/278.png">[278]</a></span>ly. +"I ain't no hand for tellin' nothin'! No, Father! +Please! I pass!"</p> + +<p>"Johnnie," began the priest, "it's likely ye've guessed, +after hearin' all I said t' Mr. Barber, that ye was (what +I'll be bold enough t' call) stolen from yer Uncle, who +wasn't ever able t' locate ye again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,"—with a pleased smile. His Uncle Albert was +not more than an hour away. That was the best of news!</p> + +<p>"And ye noted me use the name o' Blake," continued +the other. "Well, it happens t' be yer own name."</p> + +<p>"Blake!" Cis was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Y' mean—y' mean my name ain't Smith," faltered +Johnnie, who had, for a moment, been too stunned by the +news to speak.</p> + +<p>"Smith was the first name Mr. Barber could think up," +explained Father Pat, "when he made up his mind t' take +ye, Mr. Davis bein' gone t' the hospital."</p> + +<p>One-Eye burst out. "Never liked the name!" he declared. +"Knowed a feller oncet—Jim Smith—a snake! +a bald-haided buzzard! a pole-cat!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie was staring at the floor. "John Blake!" he +said under his breath. "O' course! Me! 'Cause it sounds +all right, some way, and Smith <i>never</i> did!—Not John +Smith, but John Blake!"</p> + +<p>"Johnnie," went on the Father, "I told the dear two o' +ye the story o' Edith Cavell. And ye thought that story +grand, which it is. But t'day I'm tellin' ye another—one +which, in its way, is equally grand. But this time the +story's about a man—a wonderful man, gallant and brave, +that ye'll love from this hour on."</p> + +<p>"Please, what does he look like?" asked Johnnie, wanting +a definite picture in his mind.</p> + +<p>"A proper question!—And, see! The old gentleman's +asleep again! Good! Wheel him a mite away, would ye +mind, Miss Narcissa? He'll dream a bit better if he isn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a><a href="images/279.png">[279]</a></span> +under me voice. Thanks!—Well, then, first o' all, I'll +have ye take note o' this man's general appearance, like. +He was young, as men go, bein' only thirty-one; though"—with +a laugh and a shake of the head—"ye think him +fairly old, don't ye? Ha! But the day'll come when +thirty-one'll seem t' ye like a baby right out o' the cradle! +Yes, indeed!—But t' go back t' the man: thirty-one he +was——"</p> + +<p>"Was?" inquired Johnnie. "Is he dead? Or—or maybe +now he's thirty-two?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be thirty-one," said Father Pat, "to the very +end o' time. For he is dead, lad dear, though God knows +I wish I could tell ye otherwise, but we'll not be questionin' +His mercy nor His judgment. And when all is said and +done, his brave death is somethin' t' give thanks for, as +ye'll admit fast enough when ye've heard.—Well, thirty-one, +he was, and about me own height. But not me weight. +No, he was a lighter-weighing man. He had sandyish +hair, this gentleman, and a smooth face. His eyes were +gray-and-blue. And from what I hear about him, he +smiled a good deal, and was friendly t' ev'rybody, with a +nice word and cheery how-dy-do. His skin was high-colored +like, and his chin was solid and square, and he had +a fine straight nose, and—but have ye got it all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" Johnnie scarcely remembered that any one +else was with them. "Slim, and light-haired (like me), +and no whiskers, and kind of gray eyes, and all his face +nice. But I can't see it <i>'xac'ly</i> as I'd like t', 'cause +maybe what I see and what he looked like ain't just the +same."</p> + +<p>"In that case," replied the Father, "it's a good thing, +I'm thinkin', that I brought along a photograph!"</p> + +<p>There it was in his hand. He held it (small and round, +it was) cupped by a big palm; and Johnnie, leaning for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a><a href="images/280.png">[280]</a></span>ward, +studied the pictured countenance carefully. "That's +right," went on the priest; "look at it close—close!"</p> + +<p>"I—I like him," Johnnie said, after a little. "And I'm +awful sorry he's dead.—But please go on, Father Pat. I +want t' hear 'bout him. Though if the story's very sad, +why, I'm 'fraid that Cis'll cry."</p> + +<p>"I won't," promised Cis. "But—but if the story tells +how he died, I don't think I'll look at the picture—not just +yet, anyhow."</p> + +<p>The priest laid the photograph, face down, upon the +table. "It isn't that Miss Narcissa'll cry," he argued; +"but, oh, what'll we say t' this young lady when she +sees <i>us</i> weep?—for, little lad dear, this is a tale—" He +broke off, then and there, as if about to break down on the +spot. But coughed, and changed feet, thus getting control +of himself once more, so that he was able to go on.</p> + +<p>"This young man I'm tellin' about lived in Buffalo," +continued the Father. "Now that city is close t' the noble +Falls that ye're so fond o' visitin' with Grandpa. Well, +one day in the Spring——"</p> + +<p>"Scuse me! Last spring?" Johnnie interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Eight long springs ago," answered the Father. "Which +would make ye about two years o' age at the time, if me +arithmetic is workin' fairly well t'day."</p> + +<p>"Two is right," declared Johnnie, with the certainty +of one who has committed to memory, page by page, the +whole of a book on numbers.</p> + +<p>"But as ye were all o' four years old at the time," corrected +the priest, "eight springs ago would make ye twelve +years old at this date——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Twelve?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha-a-a-! Boy scout age!" reminded the Father.</p> + +<p>At that, Johnnie, quite overcome by the news, tumbled +sidewise upon One-Eye's hairy knees, and the cowboy +mauled the yellow head affectionately. When the West<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a><a href="images/281.png">[281]</a></span>erner +set Johnnie up again, "So ye see Mr. Barber shoved +yer age back a bit when ye first came here," explained the +priest. "And as ye was shut in so much, and that made +ye small for yer years, why, he planned t' keep ye workin' +for him just that much longer. Also, it helped him in +holdin' ye out o' school."</p> + +<p>One-Eye's mustache was standing high under the brown +triangle of his nose. The single eye was burning. "Oh, +jes' fer a good <i>ex</i>-cuse!" he cried. "Fer a chanst! Fer a' +openin'! And—it'll come! It'll come! I ain't goin' t' +leave Noo York, neither, till I've had it!"</p> + +<p>If Cis caught the main drift of all this, Johnnie did not. +"I'd like t' be able t' send word t' Mister Perkins!" +he declared. "Oh, wouldn't he be tickled, though!—Cis, +I can be a scout—this minute!" Then apologetically, "But +I won't int'rrupt y' again, Father Pat. I know better, +only t' hear what you said was so awful fine!"</p> + +<p>"Ye're excused, scout dear," declared the priest. +"Shure, it's me that's glad I can bring a bit o' good news +along with the sad—which is the way life goes, bein' more +or less like bacon, the lean betwixt the fat. And now I'll +go on with the story o' the young man and his wife, +and——"</p> + +<p>"There's a lady in the story?" asked Cis.</p> + +<p>"A dear lady," answered the Father. "Young and +slim, she was—scarce more than a girl. With brown hair, +I'm told, though I'm afraid I can't furnish ye much more +o' a description, and I'm sad t' say I've got no photograph."</p> + +<p>"Guess I won't be able t' see her face the way I do his," +said Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"She must've been very sweet-lookin' in the face," declared +Father Pat. "And bein' as good as she was good-lookin', +'tis not hard t' understand why he loved her the +way he did. And that he did love her, far above anny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a><a href="images/282.png">[282]</a></span>thing +else in the world, ye'll understand when ye've heard +it all. So think o' her as beautiful, lad dear, and as +leanin' on him always, and believin' in what he said, and +trustin'. Also, she loved him in the same way that he loved +her, and we'll let that comfort us hereafter whenever we +talk about them—the strong, clean, fine, young husband, +and the bit o' a wife.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was Spring, and they, havin' been kept in +all winter, had a mind one day t' visit the Falls. That +same day was lovely, they tell me, sunny and crisp. And +she wore a long, brown coat over her neat dress, and a +scarf of silk veilin' about her throat. And he wore his +overcoat, there bein' some snap in the air.</p> + +<p>"Quite a lot o' folks was goin' out upon the ice below +the Falls, for the thawin' and the breakin' up was not +goin' forward too much—they thought—and a grand view +was t' be had o' the monster frozen floor, and the icicles +high as a house. So this gentleman and his wife——"</p> + +<p>"My father and mother!" cried Johnnie. "Oh, Father +Pat, y're goin' t' tell me how they both got drownded!"</p> + +<p>"Now! now! now!" comforted One-Eye, with a pat or +two on a shoulder. "Y' want t' know, don't y'? Aw, +sonny, it'll make y' proud!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie could only nod. The Father went on: "They +went out upon the ice with all the others, and stood gazin' +up at the beautiful sight, and talkin', I'll venture t' say, +about how wonderful it was, and sayin' that some day +they'd bring the boy t' see it."</p> + +<p>"Me,"—and Johnnie drew closer to One-Eye.</p> + +<p>"Only a bit o' a baby, ye was, lad dear, safe at home +with yer Aunt Sophie, but big enough t' be put into ev'ry +one o' their dreams and plans. —So when they'd looked +long, and with pleasure, at the fairy work o' the frozen +water, they turned and watched downstream. There was +a vast floor o' ice in that direction, all covered still with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a><a href="images/283.png">[283]</a></span> +snow. At the far edge o' the floor showed open water, +flowin' in terrible wildness, so that no boat ever rides safely +in it, nor can anny man swim through it and live.</p> + +<p>"The rapids lay below there, but these were a long way +off from the sightseers at the Falls. They could see the +tumblin', perhaps, and maybe hear the roar. But what +was under their feet was firm as the ground, and they felt +no fear."</p> + +<p>"But—but was it safe?" Johnnie faltered. "Oh, +Father Pat, I'm 'fraid it wasn't!"</p> + +<p>"Where they stood, it was," declared the Father. "But +all at once, a smart puff o' wind caught that pretty wisp +o' veilin' from the young wife, and wafted it away. And +as quick as the wind itself after it she darted; but when +she was close to it, up and off it whirled again, and she +followed it, and he after her, and—shouts o' warnin' from +all!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie took his underlip in his teeth. By that power +of his to call before him vividly the people and places and +things he heard, or read, about, and to see everything as +if it were before him, now he was seeing the snow-covered +flooring of the river, the hastening figure headed toward +danger, and the frightened one who pursued, while the sun +shone, and voices called, and the river roared below.</p> + +<p>"There was good reason t' shout," continued the priest. +"For by a bitter chance the ice had cracked clear across +'twixt where the two were hastenin' and where they had +stood before."</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie suddenly grew white, and his lip quivered +out from its hold. "But they must go back, Father Pat!" +he cried, his breast heaving. "Oh, they must go back!"</p> + +<p>"They can't," answered the Father, speaking very low. +"Oh, dear lad, they're cut off from the shore. There's a +big rift in the ice now, and it's growin' each moment big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a><a href="images/284.png">[284]</a></span>ger, +and they're on the wrong side o' it, and—floatin' +down river."</p> + +<p>One-Eye slipped an arm about Johnnie, drawing the +bright head to a shoulder. "Are y' all right, sonny?" he +asked huskily. "Can y' hear the rest? Or——"</p> + +<p>"Yes,"—but it was scarcely a whisper, and the flaxen +lashes were shuttering the gray eyes tight. "I—I ought +t' be able t' stand just hearin' it, if—if <i>they</i> could stand +the really thing."</p> + +<p>"I don't want t' break the wee heart o' ye," protested +the Father, tenderly. "And so maybe we'll wait?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir." Johnnie opened his eyes. "I'm goin' t' feel +b-bad. But please don't mind me. I'm thinkin' of Edith +Cavell, and that'll help."</p> + +<p>"God love the lad!" returned the Father, choking a +little. "And I'll go on. For I'm thinkin' it's better t' +hear the truth, even when that truth is bitter, than t' be +anxiously in doubt." Then, Johnnie having assented by +a nod, "That rift grew wider and wider. As they stopped +runnin' after the veil, and turned, they saw it, the two o' +them. 'Tis said that the young wife gave a great cry, and +ran back towards the Falls, and stood close t' the rim o' +the ice, and held out her two hands most pitiful. But all +who were on the ice had scattered, the most t' hurry t' +do somethin' which would help."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they <i>must</i> hurry!"—it was Cis this time, the +pointed chin trembling.</p> + +<p>"Ropes—they got ropes, for there was a monster bridge +below, which the two will pass under before long, as the +ice-cake floats that far. And the ropes must be ready, and +let down t' save 'em.—Yes, rods o' rope were lowered, as +fast as this could be managed, and as close as possible t' +where the men on the bridge judged the pair on the ice +would go by. There was a big loop in the end that trailed +t' the river. But long as that rope was, shure, it wasn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a><a href="images/285.png">[285]</a></span> +long enough, though the man was able t' catch it—and +what a shout o' joy went up!—and he could've slipped it +over his own head as easy as easy, but he would not do it—no, +not without <i>her</i>. But, oh, as he leaned to drop the +big loop around her (another rope was comin' down at the +same time for him), she weakened, and fainted in his arms, +and lay there in the snow.</p> + +<p>"He lifted her—quick! But before he could pass the +loop over her head, the current swept her on. Now there +was still time for him t' spring back and save himself—save +her, he could not. But he would not leave her lyin' +there and save himself, and so—and so——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, has he <i>got</i> t' die?" pleaded Johnnie, brokenly.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie," went on the Father, gently, "we're not on +this earth just t' have a good time, or an easy time,—no, +or a safe time. We're here t' do our duty, and this is how +yer father thought. Lad, dear, some day ye'll come t' a +tight place yerself. And ye'll have t' decide what ye're +t' do: go this way, which is the easiest, or that, which is +the hard path o' duty, a path which'll take all the pluck +ye've got, but the right one, nevertheless—the fine, true +way. And when such a time comes, shure, ye'll remember +what <i>he</i> did that day——"</p> + +<p>Johnnie's eyes were closed again. From under his shining +lashes the tears were beginning to creep, finding their +way in long letter S's down his pale cheeks. "I'll think o' +what my father did!" he answered. "Oh, I will, Father +Pat! My fine, wonderful father!"</p> + +<p>"Could he have chosen t' be saved, and leave the young +wife there? O' course, he could not—if ever he wanted t' +have a peaceful thought again, or the respect o' men and +women. But maybe he didn't even think o' all this, but +just did the brave act naturally—instinctively. No, he +would not be saved without her. And—the ropes were both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a><a href="images/286.png">[286]</a></span> +out o' reach, now, and the ice cake was floatin' swifter, +and swifter, and, dear! dear! breakin' at one side.</p> + +<p>"His wife in his arms, he faced about, holdin' the +slim, brown figure against his heart. He was talkin' to her +then, I'll be bound, sayin' all the tender, lovin' things that +could ease her agony, though as, mercifully enough now, +she was limp in his hold, likely she could not even hear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope so!" said Cis. "Then she wouldn't be suffering!"</p> + +<p>"From the shore the people watched them, and from the +bridge. But manny could not watch, for, ah, 'twas a +tragic sight. Some o' these prayed; some hid their faces. +But others shouted—in encouragement, maybe, or just terror. +Annyhow, the young husband, hearin' the calls, lifted +his face t' that high bridge. And 'twas then <i>he</i> called—just +once, but they heard. And what he called was a single +name, and that name was—<i>Johnnie</i>."</p> + +<p>Down went Cis's head then, and she wept without restraint. +But Johnnie was somehow uplifted now, as by +pride. "I can see him!" he cried. "My father! Just as +<i>plain!</i>" He sat up straight again, though his eyes were +still shut. "I can see his face, smilin', and his light hair! +Why, it's as if he was lookin' straight at <i>me!</i>" Then +trembling again into One-Eye's hold, "But I can't see my +mother's face, 'cause it's turned away, hidin' on my father's +shoulder. I can see just her back. Oh, my—poor—m-mother!"</p> + +<p>"He was thinkin' o' the baby he was leavin' behind," +went on the priest, "in that last moment o' his life. And if +she was, too, then it's no wonder the gentle thing couldn't +lift her head."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh, Father Pat!"—while One-Eye stroked the +yellow hair he had ruffled, and whispered fondly under that +dun mustache.</p> + +<p>"The ice was near the rapids now, so there isn't a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a><a href="images/287.png">[287]</a></span> +deal more t' tell," continued the Father. "He put up one +hand, did yer father, wavin' it in a last salute—thankin', +maybe, the men who had worked so hard with the ropes.—O +God o' Mercy, wast Thou not lookin' down upon Thy +servant as he gave his life cheerfully just t' comfort hers +one minute longer?</p> + +<p>"The agony was short. The rapids caught the cake, +which whirled like a wheel—once. Then it tipped, breakin' +again, crumblin' t' bits under them, and they sank. There +was just a glimpse, a second's, o' his head, shinin' in the +sun. Then they were gone—gone. God rest his soul—his +brave, brave soul! And God rest her soul, too!" The +Father crossed himself.</p> + +<p>After awhile, having wiped his own eyes, he went on +once more: "Behind them swayed the rope as the men on +the bridge slowly dragged it up and up. And the people +everywhere turned away, and started slowly home. Not +alt'gether sadly, though. For they'd seen a beautiful +thing done, one which was truly sublime. And later in yer +life, lad dear, when ye hear tell, manny a time, how this +boy or that has had somethin' left t' him by his father—land, +maybe, or a great house, or money—then don't ye +fail t' remember what was left t' yerself! For yer father +left ye more than riches. He left ye the right t' be proud +o' him, and t' respect and honor him, and there's no grander +inheritance than that! And the sweetness which was yer +mother's, along with the bravery o' yer father, all are +yer own, comin' t' ye in their blood which courses through +yer own veins. Inheritance! What a lot is in the word! +Manny's the time I've wondered about ye—how ye love +what's decent and good—good books, and right conduct, +and t' be clean, and all the rest o' it. But now I understand +why. Come t' me, little son o' a good mother! Little +son o' a brave father!" The priest held out his hand.</p> + +<p>As Johnnie came, Father Pat took from a pocket a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a><a href="images/288.png">[288]</a></span> +leather case which, when opened, disclosed—was it a piece +of money? or an ornament? Johnnie could not decide. +But it was round, and beautiful, and of gold. Taken from +its case, it was heavy. On the obverse side it bore the +likeness of a man as old, nearly, as Grandpa; on the reverse, +cut in a splendid circle, were the words, <i>Greater love +hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his +friends</i>. In the center, in lasting letters of metal, were +other words: <i>Awarded to William Blake.</i></p> + +<p>"'Tis a medal," explained the Father, "and 'twas +awarded to that husband who would not save himself if +he could not save his wife."</p> + +<p>"Is—is that my father's picture?" Johnnie asked, under +his breath.</p> + +<p>"No, lad dear. 'Tis Andrew Carnegie, that—the +founder of the Carnegie Hero Fund. He was a poor boy +when he came to America from Scotland. And, Johnnie, +dear, books was what <i>he</i> loved, and when he was a little +telegraph messenger, he'd read when he could, in betwixt +scamperin' here and there with messages. He lived to make +a fortune, and much of that fortune he spent in buildin' +libraries for those who can't afford to buy their own +books. And he did manny other things, and one o' 'em was—t' +leave an educational award t' the wee son o' a certain +hero I could name, so that the lad, as soon as he was big +enough, could go t' school and college. Now, who d' ye +think I mean?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie knew; yet it was all so sudden that he could +not wholly realize it. "Money for school, lad dear," repeated +the priest. "It's been waitin' for ye this long time. +But Mr. Tom Barber didn't happen t' know about it, and +we'll not be sayin' a word t' him just yet. No; I'm +thinkin' the news would be the end o' the dear man—so +much money in the family, and him not able t' put his +hands on a cent!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a><a href="images/289.png">[289]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Father Pat was gone, One-Eye with him, he left +behind, not a sorrowing little boy, who blamed Fate for +having robbed him of both father and mother in one terribly +tragic hour, but a boy who was very proud. There +was this about him, too: he did not feel fatherless and +motherless any longer, but as if the priest had, somehow, +given him parents.</p> + +<p>"And, oh, wasn't it a beautiful story?" Cis asked, as +they put the medal in a pocket of the new scout coat. +(The picture Father Pat had carried away to have copied.) +"Johnnie, I feel as if I'd been to church! It's like the +passing of Arthur—so sad, but so wonderful! Oh, Johnnie +Blake, think of it! You're twelve! and you can go to +school! and you're the son of a hero!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Johnnie. As he had not done the work +which he knew Big Tom expected of him that Sunday, now +he got out the materials for his violet-making and began +busily shaping flowers. "And I'm goin' t' be a scout right +off, too," he reminded. "So I mustn't shirk, 'r they won't +give me a badge!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a><a href="images/290.png">[290]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>REVOLT</h3> + + +<p class="cap">"'TAKE two cupfuls of milk,'" read Johnnie, who +was bent over his newest possession, a paper-covered +cookbook presented him only that morning +by his good friend overhead; "'three tablespoonfuls +of sugar, one-half saltspoonful of salt' (only, not havin' a +saltspoon, I'll just put in a pinch), 'one-half teaspoonful +of vanilla' (and I wonder what vanilla is, and maybe I better +ask Mrs. Kukor, but if she hasn't got any, can I leave +vanilla out?), 'the yolks of three eggs'—" Here he +stopped. "But I haven't got any eggs!" he sighed. And +once more began turning the pages devoted to desserts.</p> + +<p>This sudden interest in new dishes had nothing whatever +to do with the Merit Badge for Cooking. The fact +was, he was about to make a pudding; and the pudding was +to be made solely for the purpose of pleasing the palate +of Mr. Tom Barber.</p> + +<p>Johnnie had on his scout uniform. And it was remarkable +what that uniform always did for him in the matter +of changing his feelings toward the longshoreman. The +big, old, ragged clothes on, the boy might be glad to see +Barber go for the day, and even harbor a little of his +former hate for him; but the scout clothes once donned, +their very snugness seemed to straighten out his thoughts +as well as his spine, the former being uplifted, so to speak, +along with Johnnie's chin! Yes, even the buttons of the +khaki coat, each embossed with the design of the scout<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a><a href="images/291.png">[291]</a></span> +badge, helped him to that state of mind which Cis described +as "good turny." Now as he scanned the pages of the +cookbook, those two upper bellows pockets of his beloved +coat (his father's medal was in the left one) heaved up and +down proudfully at the mere thought of to-day's good +deed.</p> + +<p>He began to chant another recipe: "'One pint of milk, +three tablespoonfuls of sugar, two heapin' tablespoonfuls +of cornstarch'——"</p> + +<p>Another halt. The cupboard boasted no cornstarch. +Nor was there gelatine in stock, with which to make a gay-colored, +wobbly jelly. As for prune soufflé, he could make +that easily enough. But—the longshoreman did not want +to lay eyes on another prune soufflé before Washington's +Birthday, at least, and the natal anniversary of the Father +of His Country was still a long way off.</p> + +<p>Apple fritters, then? But they took apples. And +brown betty had the boldness to demand molasses on top +of apples!</p> + +<p>He turned more pages.</p> + +<p>Then he found his recipe. He knew that the moment his +eye caught the name—"poor man's pudding." He bustled +about, washing some rice, then making the fire. All the +while he hummed softly. He was especially happy these +days, for only the week before he had been visited by his +Uncle Albert, looking a trifle changed after these five +years, but still the kindly, cheerful Uncle Albert of the old +days in the rich man's garage.</p> + +<p>He fell to talking aloud. "I got milk," he said, "and +I got salt, and sugar, and the rinds o' some oranges. +They're dry, but if I scrape 'em into the puddin', Mrs. +Kukor says they'll make it taste fine! I'll give Mister +Barber a bowl t' eat it out of. My! how he'll smack!"</p> + +<p>At this point, the wide, old boards of the floor gave a +telltale snap. It was behind him, and so loud that it shat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a><a href="images/292.png">[292]</a></span>tered +his vision of Big Tom and the pudding bowl. Some +one was in the room! Father Pat? Mrs. Kukor? One-Eye?</p> + +<p>He turned a smiling face.</p> + +<p>What he saw made him even forget that he had on the +beloved scout suit. In the first shock, he wondered how +they could have come up and in without his hearing them; +and, second, if he was just thinking one of his thinks, and +had himself lured these two familiar shapes into the +kitchen. For there, in arm's length of him, standing face +to face, were—Big Tom and Cis.</p> + +<p>They were real. In the next breath, Johnnie knew it. +No think of his would show them to him looking as they +now looked. For Barber's heavy, dark countenance was +working as he chewed on nothing ferociously; while Cis—in +all the past five years Johnnie had never before seen +her face as it was now. It was set and drawn, and a raging +white, so that the blue veins stood out in a clear pattern +on her temples. Her hat hung down grotesquely at one +side of her head. Her hair was in wild disarray. And her +eyes! They were a blazing black!</p> + +<p>What had happened?</p> + +<p>"Let go of me!" Cis demanded, in a voice that was not +hers at all. Barber had hold of her arm. With a sudden +twist she freed herself.</p> + +<p>"Here!" Her stepfather seized her again, and jerked +her to a place beside him. "And none o' y'r loud talk, d' y' +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand!" she answered defiantly, yet without +lowering her voice. "But I don't care what you want! +I'll speak the way I want to! I'll yell—Ee-e-e——"</p> + +<p>But even as she began the shriek, one of his great hands +grasped the whole lower half of her face, covering it, and +stopping the cry.</p> + +<p>The next moment she was gasping and struggling as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a><a href="images/293.png">[293]</a></span> +fought his hold. She tried to pull backward. She dragged +at his hand as she circled him.</p> + +<p>It was a strange contest, so quiet, yet so fierce. It was +not like something that Johnnie was really seeing: it was +like one of those thinks of his—a terrible one. Bewildered, +fascinated, paralyzed, he watched, and the matches +dropped, scattering, from his hands.</p> + +<p>The contest was pitifully unequal. All at once the girl's +strength gave out. Her knees bent under her. She swayed +toward Big Tom, and would have fallen if he had not held +her up—by that hand over her mouth as well as by the +grasp he had kept on her elbow. Now those huge, tonglike +arms of his caught her clear of the floor and half threw, +half dropped, her upon the kitchen chair.</p> + +<p>"You set there!" commanded Barber.</p> + +<p>Too spent for speech, but still determined not to obey +him, Cis tried to leave the chair, and drew herself partly +up by grasping the table. But she could not stand, and +sank back. At one corner of her mouth showed a trickle +of blood, like a scarlet thread.</p> + +<p>The sight of it brought Johnnie to her in an agony of +concern. "Oh, Cis!" he implored.</p> + +<p>With one flail-like swing of a great arm, Barber swept +the boy aside. "Stay where y' are!" he said to Cis (he +did not even look at Johnnie). Then he crossed to the +hall door, which was shut, and deliberately bolted it. The +clash between him and Cis had been so quiet that Grandpa +had not even been wakened. Now Barber went to the +wheel chair, and gently, slowly, began to trundle it toward +the bedroom. "Time t' go t' s'eep, Pa," he said coaxingly. +"Yes, time for old man t' go s'eepy-s'eepy." When the +chair was across the sill, he closed the door upon it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Johnnie had again moved nearer to Cis. +Now was his chance to get away in his uniform and change +into his old clothes; to gather up his old, big shirt and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a><a href="images/294.png">[294]</a></span> +trousers from where they lay on the morris chair, unbolt +the door, and make for that flight of stairs leading up to +the roof. But—he did not even think of going, of leaving +her when she needed him so. He wanted to help her, to +comfort. "Oh, Cis!" he whispered again.</p> + +<p>She seemed not to hear him, and she did not turn her +burning eyes his way. Breathing hard, and sobbing with +anger under her breath, she stared at Barber. Her lip +was swelling. Her face was crimson from her fight. Drops +of perspiration glistened on her forehead.</p> + +<p>Barber's underlip was thrust out as he came back to her. +"Y' ain't got the decency t' be quiet!" he charged, "in +front o' that poor old man!"</p> + +<p>Now she had breath to answer. She straightened in her +chair, and met him with a boldness odd when coming from +her. "Grandpa isn't the only person in this flat to be considered," +she returned.</p> + +<p>"Jus' the same"—Big Tom shook a finger in her face—"he's +the <i>first</i> one that's goin' t' be considered!"</p> + +<p>"Johnnie and I have <i>our</i> rights!" she cried.</p> + +<p>As she spoke his name, Johnnie's heart leaped so that it +choked him—with gratitude, and love, and admiration.</p> + +<p>"Never mind y'r rights!" the longshoreman counseled. +"I begin t' see through you! Y're a little sneak, that's +what y' are! Look at the crazy way y're actin', and I +thought y' was a quiet girl! Y' been pretty cute about +hidin' what y're up to!"</p> + +<p>"Hiding!" she answered, resentful. "What do I have +to hide from <i>you?</i> What I do is none of <i>your</i> business! +I'm not a relation of yours! and I'm seventeen! And from +now on——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, drop that!" interrupted Barber. "Y' waste y'r +breath!" Then with another shake of the finger, "What +I want t' know—and the truth, mind y'!—is how long has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a><a href="images/295.png">[295]</a></span> +this been goin' on?" He leaned on the table to peer into +her eyes.</p> + +<p>Going on? Johnnie's look darted from one to the other. +Had Cis been staying away from the factory? Had she +been taking some of her earnings to see a moving-picture? +or——</p> + +<p>"I don't have to tell you!" Cis declared.</p> + +<p>"I'm the man that feeds y'!" Barber reminded. "Jus' +remember <i>that!</i>"</p> + +<p>"You've taken my earnings," she returned. "You've +taken every cent I've ever got for my work! And don't +you forget <i>that!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Ev'ry girl brings home her wages," answered the longshoreman. +"And don't y' forgit that I fed y' many a year +before y' was <i>able</i> t' work——"</p> + +<p>"While my mother was living, she earned my food!" +Cis cried. "And <i>I've</i> worked, just as Johnnie has, ever +since I was a baby!"</p> + +<p>"Have y'? Bosh! Y' been a big expense t' me, that's +what y' been, for all these past ten years! And now, jus' +when y're old enough t' begin payin' me back a little, here +y' go t' actin' up! Well, you was left in my hands. I'm +only stepfather to y'. All right. But I'm goin' t' see +that y' behave y'rself."</p> + +<p>"You've got nothing to say about me!" she persisted.</p> + +<p>"No? I'll show y'! But what I want t' know now is, +how many times have you met this dude at the noon hour?"</p> + +<p>Then Johnnie understood what had happened.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a!" Cis threw back her head with a taunting +laugh. "Dude! So he's a dude, is he? But I notice, <i>big</i> +as you are, that you didn't let Mr. Perkins know you'd +been watching us! You didn't come up to the bench and +speak to <i>him!</i> No! You waited till he was gone! You +were only brave enough to do your talking in front of a +lot of girls! Ha-a-a-a!" Then her anger mounting, "<i>You</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a><a href="images/296.png">[296]</a></span> +talk about sneaking! That's because <i>you've</i> sneaked and +followed us!"</p> + +<p>"Y're too young t' have any whipper-snapper trailin' +'round with y'—noons, 'r any other time," declared Barber.</p> + +<p>"My mother married when she was seventeen!" retorted +Cis.</p> + +<p>"It'll be time enough for y' t' be thinkin' o' beaus when +y're twenty," went on Big Tom, quietly.</p> + +<p>She stood up. "You hate to see anybody happy, don't +you?" she asked scornfully. "You're afraid maybe Mr. +Perkins will like me, and want me to marry him, and give +me a good home!"</p> + +<p>"You can put that Perkins out o' y'r head," commanded +the longshoreman. "When y're old enough, o' course, y're +goin' t' marry; but I plan t' have y' marry a <i>man</i>."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Perkins is a man," she answered, not cowed or +frightened in the least.</p> + +<p>"Not <i>my</i> notion o' a man," said Big Tom.</p> + +<p>"I like him all the better for that!" she returned—an +answer which stung and angered him anew, for he caught +her roughly once more and hurled her back into her chair.</p> + +<p>She stayed there for a moment, panting. Then, "I'm +going to marry Mr. Perkins," she told him. "To-morrow—<i>if +I live!</i>"</p> + +<p>"T'morrow!" He shouted the word. "What're y' +<i>talkin'</i> about? I'll <i>kill</i> y' first! I'll——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" As Barber reached to seize Cis again, +Johnnie dragged at his sleeve.</p> + +<p>But the longshoreman did not notice him. It was Cis +who cried out to Johnnie, still defying Big Tom. "Oh, +let him do what he wants!" she said. "Because he won't +have a chance even to speak to me after to-day! Let him! +Let him!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a><a href="images/297.png">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barber shook her, and stepped back. "After t'-day," +he told her, "y'll work right here at home!"</p> + +<p>"Home! <i>Home!</i>" She laughed wildly. "Do you call +<i>this</i> a home?"</p> + +<p>"I'll see that y' behave y'rself!" he vowed.</p> + +<p>"You'd better see that you behave <i>yourself!</i>" she retorted. +"Because Johnnie doesn't belong to you—you +haven't any rights over him! And he's gone once, and he'll +go again—after I go! And I'm going the minute I can +stand on my feet! I've stayed here long enough! Then +you can try it alone for a change!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>can</i> I?"</p> + +<p>"I'll never do another thing for you!" she went on; "—in +this flat or out! No, not in all the rest of my life! Oh, +I'm not like Johnnie! I can't pretend it's beautiful when +it's awful! and imagine good clothes, and decent food, and +have my friends driven away, and insulted! I won't stand +it! I know what's wrong! I see things the way they are! +And I'm not going to put up with them! No girl could +bear what you ask me to bear! This flat! My room! +The way I have to work—at the factory, and then here, +too! And no butter! No fruit! And the mean snarling, +snarling, snarling! And never a cent for myself!"</p> + +<p>It had all come pouring out, her voice high, almost hysterical. +And if it surprised Johnnie, who had never before +seen Cis other than quiet and gentle and sweet, modest, +wistful and shrinking, it appalled Barber. Those eyes +of his bulged still more. His great mouth stood wide +open.</p> + +<p>Presently, he straightened and looked up and around. +"Well, I guess I see what's got t' be done," he remarked +casually.</p> + +<p>The strap—it was Johnnie's first thought; Barber was +getting ready to whip Cis! Never before had the boy seen +her threatened, and the mere idea was beyond his enduring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a><a href="images/298.png">[298]</a></span> +"Oh, Mister Barber!" he protested. "Oh, what y' goin' t' +do?"</p> + +<p>For an answer, the longshoreman swung a big arm over +his own head and gave such a mighty pull at the clothesline +that it came loose from its fastening at either end.</p> + +<p>"Cis! He'll kill y'!" cried the boy, suddenly terror-stricken.</p> + +<p>Girls could be brave! Father Pat had said it, and Edith +Cavell had proved it. Cis was proving it, too! For now +she rose once more, and though she was trembling, it was +only with anger, not with fear. "He can kill me if he +wants to!" she cried defiantly. "But he can't make me +mind him, and he can't make me stay in this flat!"</p> + +<p>Then Johnnie knew what he must do: bear himself like +the scout he was so soon to be. Also, was he not the son +of his father? And his father had been braver than any +scout. So he himself must be extra brave. He flung himself +against Barber, and clung to him, his arms wound +round one massive leg. "Oh, Mister Barber!" he entreated. +"Don't hurt Cis! Lick me! Lick me!"</p> + +<p>But Barber could not be easily diverted from his plan. +"You git out o' my way!" he ordered fiercely. A heave +of one big leg, and he slung the boy to one side—without +even turning to look at him as he fell. Then again he +turned to Cis.</p> + +<p>"You keep your hands off of me!" she warned. "If you +touch me, you'll be sorry!—Oh, I hate you! I hate you! +<i>I hate you!</i>"</p> + +<p>Barber laughed. "So y' hate me, do y'?" he demanded. +"And y' ain't goin' t' stay one more night! Well, maybe +y'll change y'r mind! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" Then suddenly +his look hardened. With a grunt of rage, rope in +hand, he swooped down upon her.</p> + +<p>"You brute! You brute!"</p> + +<p>It was not till then that Johnnie understood what Big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a><a href="images/299.png">[299]</a></span> +Tom meant to do. Crying out to him, "Oh, y' mustn't! +Y' mustn't!" he rushed across to catch at the rope, and +clung to it with all his might.</p> + +<p>Barber caught him up, and once more he threw him—so +that Johnnie struck a wall, and lay for a moment, half +stunned. Meanwhile, with his other hand, the longshoreman +thrust Cis down into her chair. Then growling as he +worked, he wound her in the rope as in the coils of a serpent, +and bound her, body, ankles, and arms, to the kitchen +table.</p> + +<p>Johnnie came crawling back, bruised, but scarcely knowing +it; thinking only of Cis, of saving her from pain and +indignity. "No, Mister Barber!" he pleaded. "Not Cis, +Mister Barber! Please! It's all my fault! I fetched +Mister Perkins here! I did! So blame me!"</p> + +<p>Barber straightened. He was breathing hard, but there +was a satisfied shine in his bloodshot eyes. "All right, +Mister Johnnie," he answered. His voice was almost playful, +but still he did not look at the boy. "It's y'r fault, is +it? Well, I guess maybe it jus' about is! So y' needn't t' +worry! I'll attend t' y'—<i>no mistake!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a><a href="images/300.png">[300]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>DISASTER</h3> + + +<p class="cap">BARBER took his time. He even prepared to have +a smoke before "attending" to Johnnie. He fumbled +through his coat pockets to find his pipe, +grinning all the while at Cis.</p> + +<p>Being bound had not subdued her. She looked back at +him, her face quivering, her cheeks streaming with angry +tears. "Oh, yes, he'll go after you!" she sobbed. "You +needn't be afraid he won't! He likes to take somebody +that's little and weak, and abuse him, just as he's abused +me, because I'm a girl! You don't think, Johnnie, that +he'd ever take anybody his own size!"</p> + +<p>"That'll do!" warned Big Tom. He had found the pipe, +and now came a step nearer to her. "Y'd better keep y'r +mouth shut, young lady!"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk, Cis! Don't!" begged Johnnie, half whispering.</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> talk!" she declared. "All the years I've been +here I've wanted to tell him what I think of him. And now +I'm going to!—I <i>am</i> a young lady. You great, big coward!"</p> + +<p>He struck her with the flat of one heavy hand. But as +she instantly struggled, and frantically, throwing herself +this way and that, and almost overturning the table upon +herself, the longshoreman thought better of continuing the +punishment, and crossed to the sink to empty his pipe.</p> + +<p>Again Cis fell to sobbing, and talking as she wept. "I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a><a href="images/301.png">[301]</a></span> +going to see that Father Pat knows about this," she threatened. +"And everybody in the whole neighborhood, too! +They'll drive you out of this part of town—you see if +they don't! And, oh, wait till One-Eye knows, and Mr. +Perkins!"</p> + +<p>It was just then, as she paused for breath, that something +happened which was unexpected, unforeseen, and +terrible in its results. The longshoreman, to empty his +pipe, rapped once on that pipe leading down into the sink +from Mrs. Kukor's flat—then twice more—then once +again.</p> + +<p>It was the book signal!</p> + +<p>Johnnie gasped. And Cis stopped crying, turning on +him a look that was full of frightened inquiry. He tipped +back his head, to stare at the ceiling as if striving to see +through it, and he held his breath, listening. During the +quarrel, he had not thought of Mrs. Kukor, nor heard any +sound from above. Was she at home? Oh, he hoped she +was not! or that she had not heard!</p> + +<p>But she was at home, and was preparing to obey the +raps. Her rocking steps could be heard, crossing the +floor.</p> + +<p>"Johnnie!" warned Cis. She forgot herself now, in remembering +what might be threatening.</p> + +<p>They heard the scrape of the book basket as it left the +upper sill. Johnnie got to his feet then, watching Barber, +who was leaning over the sink, cleaning out the bowl of the +pipe with the half of a match. Oh, if only the longshoreman +would leave the window now, before—before——</p> + +<p>Almost gayly, and as jerkily as always, the basket with +its precious load came dropping by quick inches into full +view, where it swung from side to side, waiting to be drawn +in. And as it swung, Big Tom caught the movement of +it, faced round, and stood staring, seeing the books, but +not comprehending just yet how they came to be outside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a><a href="images/302.png">[302]</a></span> +his window, or for whom they were intended. And Johnnie, +his face distorted by an agony of anxiety, kept his +eyes on Barber.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a!" Cis broke in, scornfully. "He's been asking +old Grandpa questions, Johnnie! He's been spying on +you, too! He ought to make a fine detective! All he does +is spy!"</p> + +<p>It was this which told Barber that the books belonged +in his flat, and to Johnnie. "So-o-o-o!" he roared triumphantly, +and grabbed the four strings. But now his anger +was toward Mrs. Kukor.</p> + +<p>His jerk at the basket had told her something: that +all was not right down below. And the next moment she +was pulling hard at the strings, dire amazement, and +alarm, and dismay in her every jerk.</p> + +<p>Big Tom, holding firmly to the basket, leaned out to +call. "Hey, there!" he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"Vot?"</p> + +<p>"I say, what y' sendin' books down <i>here</i> for?"</p> + +<p>An exclamation—in that strange tongue which she +spoke—smothered and indistinct, but fervent! Then more +jerks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" called out Cis. "Now abuse her! Insult +that poor little thing! She's only a woman!"</p> + +<p>Barber had no time to answer this. He was pulling at +the strings, too, trying to break them. "Let go up there!" +he shouted.</p> + +<p>"It wass my basket!"</p> + +<p>With a curse, "I don't care <i>whose</i> basket it is! Let +<i>go!</i>" he ordered, and gave such a wrench at the strings +that all parted, suddenly, and the basket was his. "Y' +think y're pretty smart, don't y'?" he demanded, head out +of the window again; "helpin' this kid t' neglect his work!"</p> + +<p>"I pay you always, Mister Barber," she answered, "if +so he makes his work oder not!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a><a href="images/303.png">[303]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, and he knows it, Mrs. Kukor!" Cis called out.</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever set foot in this here flat again!" ordered +Big Tom.</p> + +<p>"That's right!" retorted Cis, as fearless as ever. "Drive +her away!—the best friend we've ever had!"</p> + +<p>"You been hidin' these here books for him!" Barber +went on, his head still out of the window, so that much of +what Cis was saying was lost upon him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ja! Ja! Ja! Ja!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Don't y' yaw <i>me!</i>"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Kukor's window had gone down.</p> + +<p>Now every other window in the neighborhood was up, +though the dwellers round about were hidden from sight. +However, they launched at him a chorus of hisses.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-a!" triumphed Cis. "You see what people think +of you? Good! Good! Why don't you go out and get +hold of <i>them?</i> why don't you throw <i>them</i> around?—Oh, +you're safe in here, with the children!"</p> + +<p>Still Barber did not notice her. Leaning farther out +across the window sill, he shook a fist into space. "Bah!" +he shouted. "Ain't one o' y' dares t' show y'r face! Jus' +y' let me see who's hissin', and I'll give y' what for! Geese +hiss, and snakes! Come and do y'r hissin' where I can +look at y'!"</p> + +<p>More hisses—and cat calls, yowls, meows, and a spirited +spitting; raucous laughter, too, and a mingling of voices +in several tongues.</p> + +<p>"Wops!" cried Big Tom again. "Wops, and Kikes, +and Micks! Not a decent American in the whole lot—you +low-down bunch o' foreigners!"</p> + +<p>Cis laughed again. She was like one possessed. It was +as if she did not care what he did to her, nor what she said +to him; as if she were taunting him and daring him—even +encouraging him—to do more. "Decent Americans!" she +repeated, as he closed the window and came toward her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a><a href="images/304.png">[304]</a></span> +the books in his hands. "Do you think <i>you're</i> a decent +American? But they're foreigners! Ha! And you call +them names! But they don't treat children the way you've +always treated us! You'd better call yourself names for +a change!"</p> + +<p>"And I s'pose that dude left these!" Barber had halted +at the table. Now he turned to Johnnie, looking directly +at him for the first time. The next moment, an expression +of mingled astonishment and rage changed and shadowed +his dark face, as he glared at the uniform, the leggings, the +brown shoes. Next, "Where did y' git <i>them?</i>" he demanded, +almost choking. He leveled a finger.</p> + +<p>Johnnie swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. To his +lips had sprung the strangest words, "There's people +that're givin' these suits away—to all the kids." (The +kind of an explanation that he would have made promptly, +and as boldly as possible, in the days before he knew +Father Pat and Mr. Perkins.) But he did not speak the +falsehood; he even wondered how it had come into his mind; +and he asked himself what Mr. Roosevelt, for instance, +would think of him if he were to tell such a lie. For a +scout is trustworthy.</p> + +<p>Once more Cis broke in, her voice high and shrill. "Oh, +now he's got something else to worry about! A second +ago he was mad because he found out you had a few +books! But here you've got a decent pair of shoes to your +feet—for once in your life! and a decent suit of clothes to +your back—so that you look like a human being instead +of the rag bag! And you've got the first hat you've had +since you were five years old!"</p> + +<p>The hat was lying on the floor—to one side, where it +had fallen from Johnnie's head when Barber had thrown +the boy off. Now the latter went to pick it up, and hold it +at his side. Then, standing straight, his sober eyes on +the longshoreman, he waited.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a><a href="images/305.png">[305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where'd y' git 'em?" questioned Barber. He slammed +the books on the table.</p> + +<p>The big-girl hands worked convulsively with the hat for +a moment. Then, "The suit was—was give t' me," Johnnie +faltered.</p> + +<p>"<i>Gi-i-ive?</i>" echoed Big Tom, as if this were his first +knowledge of a great and heinous crime.</p> + +<p>"Think of it!" shrilled Cis. "Johnnie's got a friend +that's willing to spend a few dollars on him! Isn't that a +shame!"</p> + +<p>Barber did not look at her; did not seem to know that +she was talking. "<i>Who</i> give it?" he persisted.</p> + +<p>"It—it was One-Eye," said Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>was</i> it!" exclaimed the longshoreman. His tone +implied that in all good time he would reckon with the +Westerner.</p> + +<p>"Yes, One-Eye!" cried Cis. "So you can take your temper +out on <i>him!</i> Only you better look out! One-Eye's a +man—not just a kid! And cowboys carry pistols, too! +So you better think twice before you go at <i>him!</i> You'll +be safer to stick to abusing children!—Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha!"</p> + +<p>While he was waiting for silence, Barber fell to examining +the scout uniform, article by article—the hat, the coat, +the trousers, the leggings, the shoes, his look full of disgust, +and fairly withering. When he was done, he sank +leisurely into the morris chair, a big hand on each knee, +and the flat back of his head rested against the old soiled +cushion. And now he concentrated on Johnnie's countenance. +"So Mister One-Eye fitted y' out," he resumed, and +his mouth lifted at one corner, showing a brown, fanglike +tooth worn by his pipe stem.</p> + +<p>"Y—yes, sir," replied Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, be sure to sir him!" mocked Cis. "He deserves +politeness!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a><a href="images/306.png">[306]</a></span></p> + +<p>Big Tom showed all of his teeth. But not at what Cis +had been saying; it was evident that some new and pleasant +thought had occurred to him. He nodded his head over it. +"I thought maybe it was that dude again," he remarked +cheerfully. "But it was One-Eye fitted y' out! Hm! +And when I'm off at work, instead o' doin' what y' ought +t', y' fix y'rself up, don't y'?—soldier boy stuff!"</p> + +<p>"I—I do my work in these," pleaded Johnnie. "I do! +Honest! See how nice the place is! I don't shirk nothin'! +'Cause y' see, a scout, he——"</p> + +<p>Big Tom let him get no further. "Take them rags off!" +he commanded. The last trace of that smile was gone. +The bulging eyes looked out through slits. That underlip +was thrust forward wrathfully.</p> + +<p>"Take your suit off, Johnnie," counseled Cis. "Don't +you see he hates to have you look nice?"</p> + +<p>"My—my scout suit!" faltered the boy. The light in +those peering, bloodshot eyes told him that the longshoreman +would mistreat that beloved uniform; and Johnnie +wanted to gain time. Something, or some one, might interrupt, +and thus stave off—what?</p> + +<p>Barber straightened. "Take—it—off," he said quietly, +but with heat; and added, "Before I tear it off."</p> + +<p>Johnnie proceeded to carry out the order. He put the +beautiful olive-drab hat on the table. Next he unfastened +the neat, webbed belt, and unlaced the soldierly leggings. +The emblemed coat came off carefully. The khaki shirt +followed. Last of all, having slipped his feet out of the +wonderful shoes, he pulled off the trousers, and stood, a +pathetic little figure, in an old undershirt of Grandpa's, +the sleeves of which he had shortened, and a pair of Grandpa's +underdrawers, similarly cut—to knee length.</p> + +<p>Barber stared at the underclothes. "Who said y' could +wear my old man's things?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"N—nobody."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a><a href="images/307.png">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're too small for Grandpa," declared Cis, stoutly. +"Johnnie might as well wear them. If he didn't, I'd throw +them away, or use them for dishcloths."</p> + +<p>Barber did not notice the girl. "Nobody," he repeated. +"But y' go ahead and use the scissors on 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Your shirts 're so big," reminded Johnnie; "and the +pants, too. And if I didn't wear nothin', why, I'd dirty +the new uniform, wearin' it next my skin, and so——"</p> + +<p>"Fold that truck up!" came the next command.</p> + +<p>Under Grandpa's old, torn undershirt, Johnnie's heart +began to beat so hard that he could hear it. But quietly +and dutifully he folded each dear article, and placed all, +one upon another, neatly, the hat topping the pile. Finished, +he stood waiting, and his whole body trembled with +a chill that was not from cold or fear, but from apprehension. +Oh, what was about to happen to his treasured uniform?</p> + +<p>Cis was silent now, refraining from angering Big Tom +at a time when it was possible for him to vent his rage on +Johnnie's belongings. But she watched him breathlessly as +he rose and went to the table, and reached to take the +books.</p> + +<p>"So y' keep 'em upstairs?" he said to Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,"—it was a whisper.</p> + +<p>"She's accommodatin', ain't she, the old lady?"</p> + +<p>"She—she—yes."</p> + +<p>"A-a-ah!" The longshoreman placed the books atop +the olive-drab hat, crushing it flat with their weight.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh, don't hurt 'em!" pleaded Johnnie. He put +out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I won't hurt 'em," answered Big Tom. But his +tone was far from reassuring.</p> + +<p>"I won't ever read 'em 'cept nights," promised the boy. +"Honest, Mister Barber! And y' know y' like me t' read +good. When—when Mister Maloney was here, why, y'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a><a href="images/308.png">[308]</a></span> +liked it. And y' can lock 'em all away in the bedroom if +y' don't b'lieve me!"</p> + +<p>Big Tom leered down at him. "Oh, I'll lock 'em up, all +right," he said. "I'll do it up so brown that there won't +be no more danger o' this scout business 'round the place, +and no more readin'." With that, he took up both the +books and the suit and turned.</p> + +<p>At the same moment Cis and Johnnie understood what +was impending—the same terrible moment; and they cried +out together, the one in renewed anger, the other in mortal +pain:</p> + +<p>"<i>NO!</i>"</p> + +<p>For Barber had turned—<i>to the stove</i>.</p> + +<p>Johnnie rushed to the longshoreman and again clung to +him, weeping, pleading, promising, asking to be whipped—oh, +anything but that his treasures be destroyed. And +at the table, Cis wept, too, and threatened, calling for help, +striving to divert Big Tom from his purpose, trying to +lash him into a rage against herself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mister Barber, y' wouldn't!" Johnnie cried. +"They're ev'rything I got in the world! And I love 'em so! +Oh, I'll stay forever with y' if y' won't hurt 'em! I'll +work so hard, and be so good——!"</p> + +<p>Barber uncovered the fire—that fire which Johnnie had +built for the baking of Big Tom's pudding.</p> + +<p>"The medal!" Cis shouted, straining at the rope which +bound her. "Don't let him burn that! Johnnie! Johnnie!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie caught at the coat. "In a pocket!" he explained. +"My father's! Look for it! Let me!"</p> + +<p>"A—what?" inquired Big Tom, lifting books and uniform +out of the boy's reach. "What're y' talkin' about?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you <i>dare</i> burn it!" Cis stormed. "They'll arrest +you! See if they don't! You give it to Johnnie! If +you don't, I'll tell the police! I will! <i>I will!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a><a href="images/309.png">[309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" laughed Barber. Holding everything +under one arm, he took off a second stove lid, as well +as the hour-glass-shaped support between the two front +lids. The whole of the firebox was uncovered. It was a +mass of coals. As the longshoreman hung over the fire, +his dark face was lit by it. And now lifted in a horrid +smile!</p> + +<p>Cis's voice rose again. Nothing could save Johnnie's +books and suit: there was no need to keep silent. "He's a +devil!" she cried. "He isn't a man at all! Look! He's +enjoying himself! He's grinning! Oh, Johnnie, <i>look at his +face!</i>"</p> + +<p>Johnnie fell back. And into his own face, twisted and +wet with grief, there came an expression of a terrible wonder—the +wonder that Big Tom, or any one, could be so +cruel, so heartless, so contemptible. And there flashed +into his mind something he had once heard Father Pat +say: "There's not so many grown-up people in the world; +there's plenty of grown-up bodies, but the minds at the +top o' them, they're children's minds!" And, oh, how true +it was! For Barber was like that—had a mind younger +than Johnnie's own—the boy knew it then. Further, it +was as mean and cruel and little as the minds of those +urchins who shouted "old clothes," and "girl's hair." Yes, +Barber had a man's body, but the brain of an ignorant, +wicked boy!</p> + +<p>"Look at my face all y' want t'!" he was saying now. +"But there's <i>one</i> thing sure: after this we'll know who's +boss 'round here!"</p> + +<p>"This is the only place you can boss!" retorted Cis, +turning wild, defiant eyes upon him. "A crippled old man, +and a couple of young folks! But you bet you mind Furman!"</p> + +<p>"<i>A-a-a-a-a-ah!</i>"</p> + +<p>The cry was wrung from Johnnie. For with another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a><a href="images/310.png">[310]</a></span> +loud laugh, Big Tom had dropped the scout hat upon the +flames.</p> + +<p>"Coward!" charged the girl, again writhing in her ropes. +"Low, mean coward!"</p> + +<p>It was beyond Johnnie's strength to watch what was happening. +He threw up an arm to shut out the sight of +Big Tom, and faced the other way. "Oh, don't!" he +moaned weakly. "Oh, don't! Don't!" A strange, unpleasant +odor was filling the room. He guessed that was +the hat. Smoke came wafting his way next—a whole cloud +of it—and drifted ceilingward. "Oh, Cis! Cis!" he moaned +again.</p> + +<p>Some one was in the hall—Mrs. Kukor, for the steps +rocked. "Chonnie?" she called now. "Chonnie! Talk +sometink!"</p> + +<p>It was Big Tom who talked. "Oh, you go home, y' busybody!" +he answered.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Kukor! Mrs. Kukor! He's burning everything +of Johnnie's!" shouted Cis.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" burst out Barber, as if this had +delighted him. Into the fire he thrust the khaki breeches +and the coat, poking them down upon the coals with a +hand which was too horny to be scorched by the fire.</p> + +<p>"The medal!" mourned the girl. "Oh, I hope they'll +punish you for that! And there's something you don't +know, but it's the truth, and it'll mean a lot that <i>you</i> +won't like!"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-eah?" Barber was waiting for the breeches and +coat to burn.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Johnnie's rich! He's got money! Lots of it! +You'll see! You won't have so much to say to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>Big Tom laughed. "T'morrow," he said good-humoredly, +"I'm goin' t' have y'r brain examined." The room +was half full of smoke now; he fell to coughing, and went +over to pull down the upper half of the window. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a><a href="images/311.png">[311]</a></span> +he came back he thrust the leggings into the stove.</p> + +<p>Peering round through the smoke, Johnnie saw that. +"Oh!" he whispered. "Oh!" He went forward a few steps, +weakly; then all his strength seemed suddenly to go out +of him, and he dropped to his knees beside a wall, brushing +it with his hands as he went down. There he stayed, +his forehead pressed against his knuckles.</p> + +<p>Once more Cis began to weep, in pity for his suffering. +"Oh, don't you feel so bad!" she pleaded. "Just try to +remember that we're going away, Johnnie! Mr. Perkins'll +take us both, and Big Tom'll never see us again! And I +love you, Johnnie, and so does Mrs. Kukor, and Father +Pat, and One-Eye, and Mr. Perkins!"</p> + +<p>"I know!" groaned the boy. "I—I'll try t' think."</p> + +<p>"Mister Perkins!" scoffed the longshoreman. "Who +cares about <i>that</i> tony guy? If he ever pokes his head +into this flat again, I'll stick <i>him</i> into the stove!" The +shirt followed the leggings, after which, with a dull clanking +of the stove lids, he covered the firebox.</p> + +<p>"But my jacket's burnin'," Johnnie sobbed. "My nice +jacket! And the medal! Oh, the beautiful medal!"</p> + +<p>"He'll pay for it!" vowed Cis. "You'll see! I know one +person that'll make him pay!—for hitting me, and tying +me up, and burning your things! Just you wait, Johnnie! +It'll all come out right! This isn't over yet! No, it +isn't!"</p> + +<p>Barber was laughing again. The top of the stove was +a reddening black. Upon it now he threw all the books; +whereupon little threads of smoke began to ascend—white +smoke, piercing the darker smoke of the burning hat and +uniform.</p> + +<p>As the books struck the stove, Johnnie had once more +turned his head to look, and, "Oh, my <i>Robinson Crusoe!</i>" +he burst out now. "Oh, Aladdin! And dear Galahad!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a><a href="images/312.png">[312]</a></span> +This was more than the destruction of stories: this was +the perishing of friends.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear Johnnie! Never mind!" The voice +of the comforter was strong and clear.</p> + +<p>Once more a stove lid rattled. Big Tom was putting +the first book upon the fire. It was the beloved <i>Last of +the Mohicans</i>. Johnnie's tearful eyes knew it by the brown +binding. He groaned. "Oh, it's Uncas!" he told Cis. +"Oh, my story! I'll never read y' again!"</p> + +<p>"He'll wish a hundred times he'd never done it!" declared +Cis. "It'll cost him something, I can tell you! +He'll pay for them all, over and over!"</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" Barber was amused. Now he threw the +other books after the first. After that, he lounged to and +fro, waiting till it was certain that even no part of the +volumes would fail to be consumed. As he sauntered, he +found his sack of smoking tobacco and refilled that pipe +which had been the innocent cause of all Johnnie's misfortune.</p> + +<p>With Big Tom away from the stove, the boy rose and +crossed the room. They were turning into ashes, all his +books and the other things, and he wanted one last look +at them before they were wholly gone. He picked up the +poker, lifted a lid, and gazed down.</p> + +<p>"Don't y' touch anythin'!" warned the longshoreman, +fussing with the matches as he strolled.</p> + +<p>"I won't." Layers of curling black leaves were lying +uppermost in the stove. And they were moving, as if they +were living and suffering things. On some of the leaves +Johnnie could see lettering. But as, at the sight, his tears +burst forth again, the force of his breath upon those blistered +pages broke them, and they crumbled.</p> + +<p>He covered the stove and stumbled away. An odd +thought was in his tortured brain: What Scout Law of +the Twelve covered the burning of a uniform? of the books<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a><a href="images/313.png">[313]</a></span> +that all scouts should love? "Trustworthy," he repeated +aloud; "loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up!" ordered Barber.</p> + +<p>"Yes, shut up, Johnnie," advised Cis. "Because those +are all things this man doesn't know about—he's never +heard, even, of anybody's being kind, or friendly." Then +as there came from the stove a sudden snapping and blowing, +she turned her face toward the longshoreman, and it +was strangely unlike her face, so changed was it by hate. +"Oh, you vile, vile thing!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Now I guess that'll about do," said Barber. "Understand +me. I've heard enough."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nothing'll</i> do," she returned firmly. "You won't ever +stop my talking again! I sha'n't ever obey you again—no, +about anything! And there are some things I'm going +to tell about you. You think I don't know them—or that +I've forgot. But my mother told me what she knew about +you, and I remember it all. And to-morrow I'm going to +hunt a policeman, and——"</p> + +<p>In one long step he was beside her. "You—you—<i>you!</i>" +he raged, choking. His face was blue, and working horribly, +and there was fear in the bulging eyes. "What're y' +<i>talkin'</i> about? Have y' gone clean crazy?" With a half-bend, +he caught up a length of the clothesline from the +floor and doubled it. "You open your mouth to anybody," +he told her, fiercely, "and I'll break ev'ry bone in y'r +body!"</p> + +<p>"Cis!" Johnnie rushed to her, clung to her bound arms, +and warned her to silence.</p> + +<p>But she would not be still. She was triumphant, seeing +how afraid he was of her threat. She straightened, moving +the table as she moved, and broke into a shout of defiance. +"<i>Break</i> my bones!" she challenged. "Kill me, if +you want to! But I'm going to tell—<i>tell</i>—<i>TELL!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a><a href="images/314.png">[314]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will kill y'!" he vowed, and doubled the rope into a +short, four-ply whip.</p> + +<p>Johnnie forgot everything then but Cis's danger. Once +more he came to put himself, thinly clad though he was +now, between her and Big Tom. "Oh, don't y' see she's +half crazy?" he cried to the latter. "She don't know what +she's sayin'! Oh, Mister Barber! Mister Barber!"</p> + +<p>"They'll arrest him! They'll send him to jail! To the +chair!" Cis was shouting, almost joyously, remembering +only that now she was torturing their tormentor. "But I'll +tell! I'll tell!"</p> + +<p>Barber did not answer her. "Git out o' my way!" he +growled to Johnnie. "'R I'll lick you, too!"</p> + +<p>Facing Barber, Johnnie leaned back against Cis, half +covering her body with his own. "Lick me," he begged. +"Oh, but don't touch her!"</p> + +<p>Barber bared his teeth, turning a look of hate upon the +boy. "You!" he cried, and cursed. "I'll lick y', all right! +I'll lick y' so's it'll be a week before y' leave y'r bed!" +Taking a firmer hold of the looped strands, he swung them +above his head; then with a deep breath, and with all the +power of his right arm, brought them down.</p> + +<p>A shriek—from Cis.</p> + +<p>But Barber had not struck her. The blow had reached +only the upraised face and breast of the boy, driving him +against Cis with terrible force. Even in his agony Johnnie +knew that, as he was pressing against her, she might be inadvertently +struck as Big Tom struck at him; so, staggering +sidewise, his arms held, crossed, above his head to keep +the rope from his eyes, he got away from the table and the +bound girl. But as he went he continued to clutch with +all of his fingers at the rope which was now descending with +awful regularity.</p> + +<p>Shrieking, Cis covered her eyes by laying her head upon +the table; and now she tried to cover one ear, then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a><a href="images/315.png">[315]</a></span> +other, to shut out the sound of the blows. And to her +screams was added the voice of old Grandpa, whimpering +in the bedroom, while he beat feebly at the door.</p> + +<p>Johnnie, however, made no sound. Each stinging blow +of the rope whip knocked the breath out of him, sending +him farther and farther away from the table. Sometimes +he reeled, sometimes he spun, so that as Barber drove him +with lash after lash, he went as if performing a sort of +grotesque dance. And all the while his face was purpling +in two long stripes where had fallen that first cruel +scourge.</p> + +<p>With each swing of the strands Barber gasped out a +word: "There!—Now!—Take!—Lazy!—<i>Sneak!</i>" Sweat +dripped from among the hairs on his face. That white +spot came and went in his left eye like an evil light.</p> + +<p>Some one fell to pounding upon the hall door, and some +one else upon a dividing wall. Then, with a crash, a bottle +came hurtling through a pane of the window.</p> + +<p>But Big Tom was himself half crazed by now, and +seemed not to hear. "I'll learn y'!" he shouted, and rained +blow after blow—till the small figure, those old undergarments +almost in rags as the rope strands cut into his +back, could stand up to no more punishment. Of a sudden, +with an anguished sigh, the boy half pivoted, and a +score of red bands showing angrily upon his bare, thin +arms, gave a lurch, bent double, and went down, his limp +body in a half circle, so that his yellow head touched his +knees.</p> + +<p>A hoarse shriek of terror and grief from Cis; she tried +to rise, and dragged the table part way across the kitchen, +her chair with it, striving to get to Johnnie. "Oh, you've +killed him!" she cried. "You've killed him!"</p> + +<p>Outside in the hall, the stairs creaked to the steps of +several. Voices called. Doors opened and shut. Win<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a><a href="images/316.png">[316]</a></span>dows +went up and down. From top to bottom the old +building was astir.</p> + +<p>Big Tom strode to the door and listened. Gradually, +as quiet prevailed in the Barber flat, the other flats fell +into silence, while the watchers in the hall stole away. +Presently the longshoreman gave a chuckle. Nobody +cared to interfere with him. He came sauntering back to +Johnnie.</p> + +<p>The boy was lying prone now, his eyes shut, his breast +heaving. As Big Tom stood over him, his whole little ragged +figure shivered, and he sucked in his breath through +his clenched teeth.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a!" laughed Barber. "So y' will stick in y'r +nose! Well, I'll learn y'!" Catching Johnnie up in one +big hand, he carried him to the table and laid him over +its edge, arms outstretched, the yellow head between them, +and the thin legs hanging down toward the floor. Then +taking up that length of rope with which he had beaten +the boy, he tied the spent body beside that of the well-nigh +fainting girl.</p> + +<p>"Now there the two o' y'll stay till mornin'," he announced +when he was done. "Then maybe y' won't be so +fresh about runnin' this place."</p> + +<p>The sun was now below the tops of the houses to the +west, and the kitchen was beginning to darken. Big Tom +got down the lamp, lighted it, and carried it to the bedroom. +"All right, Pa," he said cheerfully, "I'm comin' t' +put y' t' bed now. Y' want y'r milk first, don't y'? Well, +Tommie'll git it for y'." He returned to the cupboard for +the milk bottle, gave a smiling look at the two heads +leaned on the table, and disappeared to bed.</p> + +<p>Presently some one tapped timidly on the hall door; but +as there was no reply, the caller went softly away. A bit +later, a gruff voice was heard on the landing, speaking inquiringly, +and there were whispered answers. But the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a><a href="images/317.png">[317]</a></span> +gruff voice died away on the stairs, along with heavy footsteps. +Then only the distant rumble of the Elevated Railroad +could be heard occasionally, or the far, seaward whistle +of some steamer, or the scrape and screak of a street-car.</p> + +<p>And so night settled upon the flat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a><a href="images/318.png">[318]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE VISION</h3> + + +<p class="cap">AS life came back into his body, Johnnie's first +thought was a grateful one: how cool to his cheek +was the old, crackled oilcloth on the table if he +rested that cheek a moment, now here, now there! His +second thought, too, was one of thankfulness: How good +it was to be lying there so quietly after those rending +blows which had driven the breath out of his lungs!</p> + +<p>He would have liked to tug at his hair; but as his hands +were tied fast together, and held a little way beyond where +lay his head, being secured almost immovably by a length +of clothesline which came up to them from around a farther +leg of the table, he could not comfort himself with his old, +odd habit.</p> + +<p>Presently, "Cis!" he whispered. "Cis!"</p> + +<p>A moan, feeble and pitiful, like the complaint of a hurt +baby.</p> + +<p>It was pitch dark in the kitchen, and though he turned +his look her way, he could not see her. Yet all at once +he knew that this was not the wild, fighting, bold Cis, with +the strange, changed face, who had stormed at the longshoreman; +this was again the Cis he knew, gentle, wistful, +leaning on him, wanting his affection and sympathy. "Aw, +Cis!" he murmured fondly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnnie, I want a drink! I'm thirsty!"</p> + +<p>He pulled at his hands. But Big Tom had done his tying +well, and Johnnie could not even loosen one of them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a><a href="images/319.png">[319]</a></span> +"I wish I could bring you some water," He answered. "But +my legs 're roped down on this side, and he's got my hands +'way over my head on the other, so the most I could do +would be t' fall sideways off the table, and that wouldn't +help y' one bit."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she mourned. "Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Can't you git loose?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No! I'm tied just as <i>tight!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then for a little they were quiet, while Johnnie tried to +study out a way of helping her. But he failed. And soon +she began to fret, and move impatiently, now sobbing +softly, as if to herself, again only sighing.</p> + +<p>He strove to soothe her. "It won't be long till mornin'," +he declared. "If y' could make b'lieve y' was in bed, and +count sheep——"</p> + +<p>"But the ropes hurt me!" she complained. "I want them +off! They hurt me awfully, and I feel sick!"</p> + +<p>"Well," he proposed, "let's pretend y're so sick y' need +a nurse, and——"</p> + +<p>But she would not wait for the rest of his plan. "Oh, +that kind of thinking won't help me!" she protested. "And +I don't want anybody but my mother!" Then sobbing +aloud, "Oh, I want my mother! I want my mother!"</p> + +<p>The cry smote his heart, bringing the tears that had +not come when Barber was beating him. Never before, in +all the years he had known her, had she cried out this +longing. Saying scarcely anything of that mother who +was gone, leaving her so lonely, so bereft, always she herself +had been the little mother of the flat.</p> + +<p>"Course y' do!" he whispered, gulping. "Course y' do!"</p> + +<p>"If she'd only come back to me now!" she went on. "And +put her arms around me again!"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Cis!" he pleaded tenderly. "Oh, please don't! +Ain't y' got me? That's pretty nice, ain't it? 'Cause<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a><a href="images/320.png">[320]</a></span> +we're t'gether. Here I am, Cis! Right in reach, almost. +Close by! Don't cry!"</p> + +<p>But she was not listening. "Oh, Mother, why did you +go and leave me?" she wept. "Oh, Mother, I want you so +much!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie began to argue with her, gently: "But, Cis, +think how Mister Perkins likes y'! My! And he wants +t' marry y'! And y'll have such a nice place t' live in. +Oh, things'll be <i>fine!</i>"</p> + +<p>That helped a little; but soon, "I want to lie down!" +she complained. "Oh, Johnnie, it hurts to sit like this all +the time! Can't you reach me? Oh, try to untie me!"</p> + +<p>"Cis, I can't," he protested, once more. "But it'll be +mornin' before y' know it! W'y, it's awful late in the +night right now! I betcher it's twelve—almost. So let's +play a game, and the time'll pass so <i>quick!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I can't wait till morning for a drink!" she cried. "I'm +so thirsty! And I want to lie down!"</p> + +<p>"Now," he started off cheerily, "—now, we'll play the +way we used t' before y' got grown-up. Remember all the +nice things we used t' do? Callin' on the Queen, and +dancin' parties, and——"</p> + +<p>"My back hurts! Awful!"</p> + +<p>"Let's try t' think jus' o' all our nice friends," he coaxed. +"Mister Perkins, and One-Eye, and Mrs. Kukor, and——"</p> + +<p>"Let's call to Mrs. Kukor!" she pleaded. "Let's try to +make her hear!"</p> + +<p>"He'll whip us again if we do!" Johnnie cautioned. +"And, Cis, I don't think I could stand any more whippin'. +Oh, don't holler, Cis. Let's rest—jus' rest!" A weakness +came over him suddenly, and he could not go on.</p> + +<p>But she was sobbing again. "I'm thirsty!" she lamented. +"I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty!"</p> + +<p>Presently he roused himself, and remembered his faithful +Buckle. He summoned the latter now, speaking to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a><a href="images/321.png">[321]</a></span> +in that throaty, important voice which he used when issuing +commands. "Mister Buckle," he said, "bring the +young lady a lemon soda jus' chock-full o' ice."</p> + +<p>"No! No!" Cis broke in petulantly. "Oh, that makes +it all the harder to bear!—Oh, where's Mrs. Kukor? She +knows something's wrong! Why hasn't she helped us?" +She fell to weeping irritably.</p> + +<p>At his wits' end, Johnnie racked his brain for something +to tell her—something which might take her thoughts from +her misery. But his own misery was now great, for the +clothesline was cutting into his wrists and ankles; while +across the front of his body, the edge of the table was +pressing into him like the blade of a dull knife. "But I'll +stand it," he promised himself. "And I'll try t' be cheerful, +like the Handbook says."</p> + +<p>However, there was no immediate need for his cheerfulness, +for Cis had quieted. A few moments, and he heard +her deep breathing. He smiled through the dark at her, +happy to think that sleep had come to help her over the +long night hours. As for himself, he could not sleep, weak +as he was. His heart was sore because of what he had +lost—his new, wonderful uniform, and all his dear, dear +books. What were all these now? Just a bit of gray dust +in the cooling stove! Gone! Gone forever!</p> + +<p>Ah, but <i>were</i> they! The suit was. Yes, he would not be +able ever again to wear that—not actually. But the +books—? They were also destroyed, as completely as the +khaki uniform. And yet—<i>had</i> Big Tom really done to +them what he wanted to do? <i>Had</i> he wiped them out?</p> + +<p>No!</p> + +<p>And as Johnnie answered himself thus, he realized the +truth of a certain statement which Father Pat had once +made to him: "The only possessions in this world that can't +be taken away from ye, lad dear, 're the thoughts, the +ideas, the knowledge that ye've got in yer brain." And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a><a href="images/322.png">[322]</a></span> +along with his sudden understanding of this there came a +sense of joyous wonder, and a feeling of utter triumph. +His precious volumes were burned. True enough. Their +covers, their pictures, their good-smelling leaves, these were +ashes. But—<i>what was in each book had not been wiped +out!</i> No! The longshoreman had not been able to rob +Johnnie of the thoughts, the ideas, the knowledge which +had been tied into those books with the printed letter!</p> + +<p>"I got 'em yet, all the stories!" he cried to himself. +"The 'stronomy, too! And the things in the Handbook! +They're all in my brain!"</p> + +<p>And the people of his books! They were not destroyed +at all! Fire had not wiped them out! They were just as +alive as ever! As he lay, stretched over the table edge, +they took shape for him; and out of the black corners of +the room, from behind the cupboard, the stove, and the +chairs, they came trooping to him—Aladdin, the Sultan, +the Princess Buddir al Buddoor, Jim Hawkins, Uncas, +King Arthur, Long John Silver, Robinson Crusoe, Lincoln, +Heywood, Elaine, Galahad, Friday, Alice, Sir Kay!</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh, gee, all my +friends!" Oh, yes, the people in stories <i>did</i> live on and on, +just as Father Pat had said; were immortal because they +lived in the minds of all who loved them!</p> + +<p>His eyes were shut. But he smiled at the group about +him. "He didn't hurt y'!" he said happily—but whispering +as before, lest he disturb Cis. "Say! He didn't hurt +y' a teeny-weeny bit!"</p> + +<p>Pressing eagerly round him, smiling back at him fondly, +those book people whom he loved best replied proudly: +"Course he didn't! Shucks! We don't bother 'bout <i>him!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, fine! Fine!" answered Johnnie.</p> + +<p>Next, he understood in a flash why it was that Father +Pat could feel so satisfied about Edith Cavell. That +general (whose name was like a hiss) could shoot down a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a><a href="images/323.png">[323]</a></span> +brave woman, and hide her body away in the ground, <i>but +he could not destroy her!</i> No! not with all his power of +men and guns! She would live on and on, just as these +dear ones of his lived on! And the fact was, her executioner +had only helped in making her live!</p> + +<p>Yes, and here she was, right now, standing in white beside +scarlet-clad Galahad! In the darkness her nurse's +dress glimmered. "I'm better 'cause I know you," Johnnie +said to her. His tied right hand closed as if on the +hand of another, and he bent his head on the oilcloth, as +if before a Figure. "Oh, thank y' for comin'!"</p> + +<p>Then came another wonderful thought: what difference +did it make—really—whether he was on his back on his +square of old mattress, or here on his face across the table +<i>if</i> he wished to think some splendid adventure with all these +friends? "Not a bit o' difference!" he declared. "Not a +bit!" Big Tom had been able to tie fast his feet and +hands; but in spite of that Johnnie could go wherever he +pleased!</p> + +<p>His wound-darkened, tear-stained face lit with that old, +radiant smile. "Big Tom can't tie my thinks!" he boasted. +He was out of his body now, and up on his feet, looking +into the faces of all those book friends. "So let's take a +ship—your ship, Jim Hawkins! Ye-e-eh, let's take the +<i>Hispaniola</i>, and sail, and sail! Where? The 'Cific Ocean? +'R t' Cathay? 'R where?" Then he knew! "Say! we'll +take a 'stronomy trip!" he announced.</p> + +<p>In one swift moment how gloriously arranged it all +was! Halfway across the kitchen floor, here were wonderful +marble steps—steps guarded on either side by a stone +lion! The steps led up to a terrace that was rather startlingly +like Father Pat's description of the terrace below +the great New York Public Library; yet it was not the +Library terrace, since there was no building at the farther<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a><a href="images/324.png">[324]</a></span> +side of it. No, this wide, granite-floored space was nothing +less than a grand wharf.</p> + +<p>Up to it Johnnie bounded in his brown shoes—and a +new think-uniform fully as handsome as the one Big Tom +had thrust into the stove. On the step next to the top +one, some one was waiting—a person dressed in work-clothes, +with big, soiled hands, and an unshaven face. This +individual seemed to know that he was out of place and +looking his worst, for his manner was apologetic, and downcast. +He implored Johnnie with sad eyes.</p> + +<p>It was Big Tom!</p> + +<p>How beautiful the terrace wharf was, with its balustrades, +and its fountains, and its giant vases, these last +holding flowers which were as large as trees! And how +deliciously cool was the breeze that swept against Johnnie's +face from the vast air ocean stretching across the +roofs! At the very center of the terrace was the place +of honor. There Johnnie took his stand.</p> + +<p>He glanced round at the longshoreman. "No, we don't +want y' on this trip," he said firmly. He felt in a pocket +for a five-cent piece, found it, and tossed it to Barber. +"Go and buy y'rself a lemon soda," he bade kindly. +"Hurry and git away, 'cause some folks is comin'."</p> + +<p>Poor Barber! In spite of all he had done, it was almost +pitiful to observe how disappointed he was at this order, +for he yearned to be included in the approaching, and +thrilling, adventure. He got to a knee, holding out both +hands. "Johnnie," he said, "I'll work! I'll do the loadin' +and unloadin'!" (The cargo hook was round his thick +neck.)</p> + +<p>"Nope," answered Johnnie, carelessly. "Don't need +y'. Got Aladdin's slaves." He waved a hand, motioning +the suppliant off.</p> + +<p>Below Big Tom scores of Johnnie's friends were waiting—his +book friends, his real friends, and his think-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a><a href="images/325.png">[325]</a></span>acquaintances. +Ignoring the longshoreman, Johnnie called +down to them. "Come on up!" he invited. "Come ahead! +The wind's fine! The ship, she's headin' this way!"</p> + +<p>Music sounded, for just that second Johnnie had ordered +a band. With the music there was plenty of dandy +drumming—<i>Rumpety! rumpety! rump! rump! rump!</i></p> + +<p>Then, ushered by Buckle, the guests began to stream +up the steps. One-Eye was first, attended by all of his +fellow cowboys; and there was some yip-yipping, and ki-eying, +in true Western fashion, Johnnie saluting each befurred +horseman in perfect scout style. On the heels of +all these came Long John Silver, stumping the granite with +his wooden leg, and bidding his fellow buccaneers walk +lively. Of course Jim Hawkins was of this party, carrying +the pieces-of-eight parrot in one hand and leading Boof +with the other.</p> + +<p>David and Goliath were the next, and each was so pleasant +to the other that no one would have guessed they had +ever waged a fight. The two, like all who had gone by +before, gave Barber a withering look as they passed the +drooping figure, after which Mr. Buckle, acting as a sort +of Grand Introducer, planted himself squarely in front +of Big Tom, turning upon him that gorgeous red-plush +back, and wholly cutting off his view.</p> + +<p>"Glad t' see y'!—It's fine y' could come!—How-d'y'-do!" +Johnnie's hand went from side to hat brim like a +piston.</p> + +<p>Another parrot! This was Crusoe's, borne by the Islander's +servant, Friday, who strode in the wake of his +master along with any number of man-eating savages, all, +however, under perfect control. And on the heels of these, +having just alighted from mammoth, armored and howdahed +elephants, advanced Aladdin, escorting his Princess +and her father, the Sultan, and accompanied by fully a +hundred slaves, all fairly groaning under trays of pearls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326"></a><a href="images/326.png">[326]</a></span> +and rubies, diamonds and emeralds. The slaves and the +savages mingled with one another in the friendliest fashion; +and as Uncas and his painted and feathered braves +now appeared, yelling their war cry and swinging their +tomahawks, there was, on hand, as Johnnie remarked to +Mr. Buckle, quite an assortment of kitchen and other help +for the voyage.</p> + +<p>"But y're the boss o' 'em all," Johnnie hastened to add. +"So don't y' let one o' 'em run y'."</p> + +<p>Of course Mr. Perkins could not be left out of this +extraordinary voyage. He came with Cis, the latter wearing +such a pretty pink dress. Grandpa walked with them, +looking straight and strong and happy. The first two, +as might have been expected, paid not the slightest attention +to the longshoreman beyond making a slight detour +in passing him. But the old veteran shook a stern head at +his son.</p> + +<p><i>Rumpety! rumpety! rumpety! rump!</i></p> + +<p>Small wonder that the music was blaring forth again! +For here were guests of great distinction—Mr. Carnegie +(looking older than formerly), Mr. Rockefeller, Mr. Astor +and Mr. Vanderbilt. There was no mistaking them, for +they wore millionaire hats, soft and velvety, and coats with +fur collars. All were strolling as leisurely and jauntily as +only true plutocrats can afford to do.</p> + +<p>When they reached Big Tom, they halted; and at the +same moment they turned their four heads to stare at him, +and showed him their four countenances in four cold +frowns. Then—they turned their heads away, all snubbing +him at once, and sauntered up the last step to the +terrace, and so forward to where their young host stood.</p> + +<p>"Gee, he hated what y' done t' him!" exclaimed Johnnie. +After shaking hands with them, he passed them on to +Uncas and his braves, the Indians receiving them with +every indication of cordiality.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a><a href="images/327.png">[327]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Bling-ell! bling-ell! bling-ell-dee-dee!</i>—a fresh burst of +melody.</p> + +<p>This time the Prince and his gentlemen were approaching, +all silk-hatted, and frock-coated, and gold-caned. +His Royal Highness led—naturally—and was assisting +dear, little Mrs. Kukor as he came, and she was beaming +up at Royalty, and talking at him with both pudgy hands, +and rocking madly in her effort to keep step.</p> + +<p>Following on the proper salutations, the English Prince +and Aladdin very properly got together, treating each +other like old friends, while Johnnie faced about to greet +Father Pat, who was puffing and blowing as he made the +last step, and pointing back over a shoulder to where King +Arthur was approaching with <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Guinivere'">Guinevere</ins>, the former in +royal robes, with four kings walking before him, bearing +four golden swords; while the Queen had four queens +ahead of her, bearing four white doves. There was a choir +in this majestic train, and after the choir came fully two +dozen knights whose chain mail shone in the sunlight like +gold.</p> + +<p>"Here she comes!"</p> + +<p>Now hats waved wildly, and handkerchiefs fluttered—as +into sight, her many rosy, silken sails filled to stiffness with +the breeze, her scores of flags snapping in the glorious air, +and all her lovely lines showing in sharp beauty against a +violet-blue sky, came Jim Hawkins's superb ship, crewless, +and unguided, but moving evenly, slowly, majestically, as +if she were some living thing!</p> + +<p>Roses garlanded her—pink roses by the thousands. +They circled her rail like a monster wreath. They hung +down from her yardarms, too, in mammoth festoons. And +her cargo—forward, it was of watermelons, which were +arranged in a huge heap at the prow; aft, her load was +books! There were books in red bindings, and books in +brown and green. Here and there on the piles of volumes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328"></a><a href="images/328.png">[328]</a></span> +a book would be open, showing attractive illustrations. To +judge of the size of the consignment it was evident that +not one book had been left in that certain Fifth Avenue +store!</p> + +<p>Cheers—as softly the <i>Hispaniola</i> came to a stop.</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" shouted Johnnie. "All but Thomas Barber, +who's goin' t' be left behind 'cause he was so mean!"</p> + +<p>What a blow! The longshoreman, plainly crushed by it, +sank lower on his step and covered his face.</p> + +<p>But the company cared little how he felt. Shouting +gayly, chatting, smiling, waving to one another, all +swarmed across the rose-bordered rail to embark at Johnnie's +bidding. Last of all stalked the haughty Buckle—to +begin passing melon.</p> + +<p>"Ready! Let 'er go!"</p> + +<p>Now a soul-inspiring blending of choir and instruments—just +as Johnnie gave his command, and the ship of his +dreams moved off across the roofs of the city, with no rolling +from side to side. Skillfully she steered her own way +among the chimneys till she was lifted above them, all the +while tossing the blue air to either side of her prow exactly +as if it were water, so that it rose up in cloud-topped +waves, and curled, and broke along her rose-trimmed sides +in crystal, from where it fell to lay behind her in a long, +tumbled, frothy path.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cis, we're sailin' the sky!" Johnnie shouted. His +yellow hair was blowing straight back from his eager, +happy face as he peered forward (as a good captain +should) into the limitless, but astronomer-charted, leagues +ahead. "We're floatin' in the ocean o' space!"</p> + +<p>Here, close at hand, was a cloud, monster, dazzlingly +white, and made all of dew which was heavenly cool. Gallantly +the <i>Hispaniola</i> plunged into it, sending the bits of +cloud from her in a milky spray, but catching some of +them upon her sides and sails, so that as she came forth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329"></a><a href="images/329.png">[329]</a></span> +into the sun again, she seemed set with all of Aladdin's +diamonds!</p> + +<p>"On, and on, and on, and on!" Johnnie commanded. +(He had no time even for a slice of watermelon!) Oh, how +wonderful to think that there was no shore ahead upon +which Jim Hawkins's ship would need to beach! that Johnnie +and his friends could go on sailing and sailing for as +long as they chose!</p> + +<p>"Look out for the Great Bear and the Bull!"—another +command for the <i>Hispaniola</i>, for now that the ship was +higher, she was passing among the stars, all as perfectly +round as so many toy balloons, all marvelously luminous, +and each most accommodatingly marked across its round, +golden face (in great, black, capital letters!) with its name—MARS, +JUPITER, SATURN, VENUS.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Johnnie as if he were meeting old friends. +"Oh, Arcturus!" he hailed. "Aldebaran! Neptune!"</p> + +<p>"Johnnie, don't bump the Moon!" cried the Prince and +his gentlemen, waving their canes.</p> + +<p>"Y' betcher life I won't!"</p> + +<p>Any large body, the good ship most considerately +avoided. As for the small ones, which had no names on +them, if she struck one, it glanced off of her like a red-gold +spark.</p> + +<p>"Aw, gee!" cried Johnnie, easing his tortured little body +by a shift of his weight across the table edge; "this is +jus' fine!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a><a href="images/330.png">[330]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>HELP</h3> + + +<p class="cap">KNOCK! knock! knock! knock!</p> + +<p>At the first knock of the four, a sparrow to +whom Johnnie had, for this long while, been giving +good-turn crumbs, made a scrambling get-away from +the window sill, followed in the same instant by a neat, +brown mate who was equally startled at such a noise from +somewhere just within. For dawn was only now coming +upon the thousands of roofs that shelter the people of the +Greatest City, the sun being still far down behind a sea-covered +bulge of the world. And this was an hour when, +usually, only early birds were abroad.</p> + +<p>Rap! rap! rap! rap! rap! The summons was louder, +more insistent, and quite unmistakably cross.</p> + +<p>It roused Cis, and she lifted her head, and drew in a +long, fluttering breath; but she was too stiff and weary +and sore even to realize that a visitor was at the hall door. +Once more she laid a pale, tear-stained cheek upon the +table.</p> + +<p>Bang! bang! bang! <i>BANG!</i></p> + +<p>Now she started up, understanding that help had come. +And there was a creaking in the bedroom, where Barber +was preparing to rise, while he swore and grumbled under +his breath. Only Johnnie did not stir. Between his outstretched +arms his yellow head lay as still as if it were +stone. Tied as he was, after all the long night hours his +legs, held straight down, had completely lost their feeling; +and his arms were as dead as his legs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a><a href="images/331.png">[331]</a></span></p> + +<p>BANG! BANG! <i>BANG!</i></p> + +<p>"Aw, that'll do!" cried the longshoreman. He came +slouching out of his room. He was fully dressed, not having +taken off his clothes the night before. For it had been +his intention to leave Cis and Johnnie tied for an hour or +two, then to get up and set them free. Now, seeing that +it was morning, he first gave a nervous glance at the clock, +then hurriedly dug into a pocket, fetched out his jack-knife, +opened a blade, and cut the ropes holding Cis; next, +and quickly, he severed those tighter strands which bound +the boy.</p> + +<p>Another bang, followed by an imperious rattling of the +doorknob. Then, "Tom Barber, are ye in? If ye are, +open this second, or I'll break down yer door!" It was +Father Pat's voice, lacking breath, but deep with anger.</p> + +<p>It was plain to Big Tom that the priest knew of the +trouble. "Now, who's been runnin' t' <i>you?</i>" he snarled. +"Never seen such a buildin' for tattle tales!—Here! Set +up!" (This to Cis, who wavered dizzily in her chair as +the longshoreman shoved her roughly against the back of +it.)</p> + +<p>"Let me in, I tell ye!" ordered the Father, "or I'll go +out and find a policeman!"</p> + +<p>"All right! All right!"—impatiently. "Wait one minute!" +Now Big Tom hastened to lift Johnnie off the table +and stand the boy upon his feet.</p> + +<p>But the moment the support of Barber's hand was taken +away, Johnnie collapsed, going down to the floor in a soft, +little heap, from the top of which his blue-marked face +looked up sightlessly at Big Tom.</p> + +<p>Frightened, the latter lifted the boy and laid him in the +morris chair. The small, cold body, partially covered by +the rags of Grandpa's old undersuit, was so white and limp +that it seemed lifeless. Hastily the longshoreman threw +his own coat over Johnnie, after which he swept together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a><a href="images/332.png">[332]</a></span> +the several lengths of clothesline and flung them out of +sight under the stove.</p> + +<p>"Barber!"</p> + +<p>The admitting of the priest could be put off no longer. +For even as he called, Father Pat had put his shoulder to +the door, so that an old panel was bending inward; next, +he fell to kicking at the bottom rail with a stout shoe.</p> + +<p>Barber gave a quick glance round the kitchen, then went +to pull aside the bolt. "Hold on!" he ordered roughly; +and as he swung the door open, "<i>Nice</i> time t' be hammerin' +a man out o' his bed!"</p> + +<p>There was another in the hall besides the Father—Mrs. +Kukor, in her street clothes, and wearing her best hat. +Her face looked drawn, her black eyes weary. Her hard +breathing proved that she had just come up three flights +instead of descending one.</p> + +<p>As Barber caught sight of her, he thrust his big frame +into the doorway, blocking it. "There she is!" he declared +hotly. "The tattler! The busybody! Hidin' books for +a lazy kid! Helpin' him t' waste his time! She can't come +in here!"</p> + +<p>"Stand out o' me way!" cried the Father. "I'm comin' +in, and this lady with me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't y' try t' tell <i>me</i> what y're goin' t' do!" replied +Big Tom. "Y' can't take the runnin' o' this flat out o' <i>my</i> +hands—neither one o' y'! I ain't goin' t' stand for it!"</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a!" retorted the priest. "And is the abusin' +o' two children what ye call runnin' a flat? And we can't +take <i>that</i> out o' yer hands, can't we? Well, God be +praised, there's police in this city, and there's societies t' +handle such hulkin' brutes as yerself, and—<i>and</i>—!" +Words failing him, he shook a warning finger in Barber's +face.</p> + +<p>Down the hall a door opened, and several heads appeared +in it. This, as well as the priest's words, decided<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333"></a><a href="images/333.png">[333]</a></span> +Big Tom (more gossip in the house would be a mistake). +He stood aside and let his visitors enter, instantly slamming +the door at their backs. "I won't have no girl out o' +this flat settin' in a park with some stranger!" he declared. +"I promised her ma I'd look after her!"</p> + +<p>He got no answer. There being no movement in the +morris chair, under Big Tom's coat, the Father and Mrs. +Kukor had rushed past it to Cis, for the moment seeing +only her. Now they were bending over her, and "Girl, +dear! Girl, dear!" murmured the priest anxiously; and +"So! so! so!" comforted the little Jewish lady.</p> + +<p>Cis seemed not to know who was beside her. "He's +dead!" she wept. "And it's my fault! <i>All</i> my fault! +O-o-o-oh!" A trembling seized her slender body. Once +more she swayed, then toppled forward upon the table, all +her brown hair falling over her arms.</p> + +<p>"Vot wass she sayink?" demanded Mrs. Kukor, frightened. +Falling back to the big chair, she sat upon one arm +of it, stared in horror at Cis for a moment, then began +to cry and rock, beating her hands.</p> + +<p>"Barber, ye've a right t' be killed for this!" cried Father +Pat. "And where's the lad? What've ye done t' him? +God help ye if ye've worked him rale harm!"</p> + +<p>Cis turned her face, and spoke again. "Poor Johnnie +died in the night!" she sobbed. "He couldn't talk to me! +I tried! He couldn't get water! Oh, I want water! Give +me a drink, Mrs. Kukor!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor had risen as Cis talked, and Father Pat +had come to her. There was horror in the faces of both. +Standing, his back against the hall door, Barber began +to laugh at them. "Aw, bosh!" he said, disgusted. "Dead +nothin'! He's in the big chair there. Plenty o' kick in +him yet, and plenty o' meanness!"</p> + +<p>His lips moving prayerfully, the priest turned and +looked down, then lifted the longshoreman's coat. As he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334"></a><a href="images/334.png">[334]</a></span> +caught sight of the rope-marked face and shut eyes of +the boy, "Oh, little lad, dear!" he cried, heart stricken at +the sight. "Oh, what's the crazy man done t' ye? Oh, +God help us!"</p> + +<p>Together, Father Pat and Mrs. Kukor brought out +Johnnie's square of mattress, dropped it beside the morris +chair, and laid the half-conscious boy upon it. Then +kneeling beside him, one at each side, they began to rub +the life back into his numbed limbs. "He's breathin', girl +dear," the priest told Cis, who could not bring herself to +look at Johnnie. Mrs. Kukor said not a word. But down +the round, brown face the tears flowed steadily.</p> + +<p>Having made a quick fire with kerosene and some kindling, +Barber lounged at the stove, warming some milk for +his father, setting his own coffee to boil, having a pull at +his pipe, and keeping a scornful silence. Grandpa's breakfast +ready, he carried it into the bedroom and fed the old +man. After that, shutting the bedroom door, he helped +himself to a slice of bread and some dried-apple sauce. +His manner said that a great fuss was being made in the +kitchen over nothing.</p> + +<p>It was Cis who spoke next—when Mrs. Kukor, leaving +Johnnie for a little, came to bring the girl a drink, and +bathe her face. "I'm never going to lie down in this place +again, Mrs. Kukor," she declared. "I'm going to leave +here this morning, and I'm never coming back—never! +Can you brush my hair right now, please? Because I +know Mr. Perkins will be here soon."</p> + +<p>At that, Big Tom launched into a sneering laugh. "Oh, +is that so?" he demanded. "Fine! I'd like t' see Perkins, +all right!" His great shoulders shook, and a horrible leer +distorted his hairy face.</p> + +<p>The Father glanced up from where he was kneeling. +"Ye itch t' make trouble, don't ye?" he charged. "When +ye ought t' be thankful that this young woman has found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335"></a><a href="images/335.png">[335]</a></span> +such a good man for a husband. I've watched the Perkins +lad pretty close. I've been t' see him, and he's called t' +see me. And by ev'ry way that a man who's a priest can +judge another man, I find no fault in him."</p> + +<p>"Well, s'pose y' don't," answered Big Tom. "It jus' +happens that <i>I</i> do."</p> + +<p>"Ye can't!" cried the other. "Not and be honest! Ye +can't find fault where there isn't fault! Why, he served +in France, and him far under age. And I'll ask ye, where +was <i>yerself</i> durin' the late War? Supportin' a pensioned +father, eh? And a girl that was earnin' her own livin'! +And a boy who's never cost ye a cent!—Ah, don't answer +me! Don't stain yer soul with anny more falsehoods! +Money's what's irkin' ye—the girl's earnin's. They're +more t' ye than her happiness, and a good home, and a +grand husband!" Then to Johnnie, "Wee poet, won't ye +wink a bright lash at the Father who loves ye?—or me +heart'll split in two pieces!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie sighed, and winked two bright lashes, whereupon +the priest lifted the boy's head and gave him a sip +from Cis's cup of water. "Aw, a drink o' tea'll fix <i>him</i> +all right," asserted Barber. "He ain't half as bad off as he +pretends."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk t' me at all, Tom Barber!" commanded the +priest. "For I've no temper for it as I look at the face +and shoulders o' this lad that ye've whipped so cruel! Or +at the girl that ye've tied up this whole long night!"</p> + +<p>By now, Cis, wrapped in her own quilt, was combed and +in the big chair, and was being plied with milk by Mrs. +Kukor. She was out of pain now, and her concern was +mostly for Johnnie. She watched him constantly, smiling +down at him lovingly. And as he opened his eyes and +looked back at her, she saw the stiff muscles of his face +twist as if in a spasm, and at the sight of that twisting +was frightened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a><a href="images/336.png">[336]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnnie!" she faltered. "Oh, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie's lips moved. "Noth—nothin'," he whispered +back. "I—I'm jus' tryin' t' smile."</p> + +<p>"Ah, there's a brave lad for ye!" exclaimed the Father, +the tears shining in the green eyes. "Not a whine! Not +a whimper! Where'd ye find another boy, Tom Barber, +that'd take yer heavy hand in the spirit o' this one? +Shure, there's not a look out o' him t' show that he's hatin' +ye for what ye did t' him! Ha-a-a! It's a pearl, he is, +cast under the feet o' a pig!"</p> + +<p>"Y' can cut that out!" said the longshoreman. Putting +down his pipe, he crossed the room to the priest.</p> + +<p>Father Pat got to his feet, but he did not retract. "Ye +old buzzard!" he stormed. "Do ye dare t' lift yer hand +against the servant o' God?"</p> + +<p>Big Tom fell back a step then, as if remembering who +the man before him was. "Jus' the same, y' better go," +he returned. "From now on, y' better keep out o' this!"</p> + +<p>"I'll go," answered the priest, calmly, "when I'm tossed +out o' the windy—or the door. But I'll not go by me own +choosin'. I'm not lastin' long annyhow, so ye can drop +me into the court if ye like. Then the law will take ye +out o' the way o' these dear children."</p> + +<p>Barber clenched and unclenched his fists, yearning to +strike, yet not daring. "Go home and mind y'r own affairs," +he counseled.</p> + +<p>"Me own affairs is exactly what I'm mindin'," retorted +the Father. Then, mournfully, "Oh, if only I had me old +strength! If me lungs wasn't as full o' holes as a sieve! +I'd say, 'Tom Barber, come ahead!' And as God's me +witness, I'd thrash ye within' a inch o' yer black life!" +And he shook a finger before the longshoreman's nose.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor was giving Johnnie some milk. He whispered +to her, fearing from the look in her dark eyes that +she was blaming herself bitterly for what had happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337"></a><a href="images/337.png">[337]</a></span> +to his books. "Don't y' worry," he pleaded; "it wasn't +nobody's fault. And if y' hadn't kept 'em upstairs long +as y' did, he'd 've burned em 'fore ever I learned 'em."</p> + +<p>"Chonnie!" she gasped. Concerned for the safety, yes, +even the lives, of the two she loved, she had forgotten to +inquire the fate of that basketful. Now she knew it! +"Oy! oy! oy! oy!"</p> + +<p>"Aw, shut up y'r oy-oy's," scolded Big Tom.</p> + +<p>Father Pat had heard Johnnie, and understood him. +"But we'll not be carin' about anny crazy destruction," +he announced cheerfully; "for, shure, and there's plenty +more o' 'em on sale in this town."</p> + +<p>Johnnie stared up, trying to comprehend the good +news. "The <i>'xact</i> same ones?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Little book lover, I'll warrant there's a thousand o' +each story—if a man was t' take count."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>The Father knelt. "Lad, dear!" he exclaimed tenderly. +"Faith, and did ye think that ye owned the only copies in +the <i>world</i> o' them classics?"</p> + +<p>Now Johnnie fully realized the truth. "Oh, Father +Pat!" he cried, and fell to laughing aloud in sheer joy.</p> + +<p>"God love the lad!" breathed the priest, ready to weep +with happiness at restoring that joy. "Was there ever +such another? Why, in one hour, and without spendin' a +penny, I could be readin' all seven o' yer books! Yes, yes! +In that grand book temple I told ye about—the one with +the steps that lead up (oh, but they're elegant), and the +lions big as horses."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Johnnie. "I remember. I—I was there +'way late last night—in a think."</p> + +<p>"Why, little reader dear, in that temple, and out o' it, +shure and there's enough Aladdins t' pave half a mile o' +Fifth Avenue! and it's likely ye could put up a Woolworth +Building with nothin' but Crusoes and Mohicans!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338"></a><a href="images/338.png">[338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm so glad! So glad! <i>My!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And Father Pat's glad," added the priest. As he +stood once more, he lifted a smiling face to the ceiling; and +up past the kitchen of the little Jewish lady he sent a +prayer of gratitude to his Maker for the blessing of that +instrument of man's genius, the printing press.</p> + +<p>Then he fell to pacing the floor, now glancing at the +clock, again taking out his watch and clicking its cover. +Between these silent inquiries regarding the time, he played +impatiently with the cross which hung against his coat on +a black ribbon. It was plain that he was expecting some +one.</p> + +<p>Big Tom understood as much, and finally was moved to +speech. "Y' won't bring no doctor in here," he announced. +"I won't have no foolishness o' that kind."</p> + +<p>Father Pat ignored him. But to Mrs. Kukor, "Shure, +and ye could boil a leg o' mutton while ye wait for that +gentleman," he observed.</p> + +<p>After that, for a while, the kitchen was quiet. Mrs. +Kukor left on an errand to her own flat, coming back almost +at once with two eggs deliciously scrambled on toast, +and some stewed berries, tart and tasty. These delicacies +had a wonderfully reviving effect upon both Cis and Johnnie, +and the latter even found himself able to sit up to +eat.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm so weak," he told Father Pat, "wouldn't this +be a' awful fine time t' play shipwreck with Crusoe, and +git washed on shore more dead'n alive?"</p> + +<p>"Now, then, it just would!" agreed the priest. "But as +ye've been near dead once this day, shure, ye'd best think +o' stayin' alive for a change."</p> + +<p>The last bit of egg was eaten, the last nibble of toast, +too, and the fruit. "Oh, yes, I'm too tired t' think 'bout +a wreck," admitted Johnnie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a><a href="images/339.png">[339]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rest, lad dear! Rest!" The quilt was tucked round +the weary limbs.</p> + +<p>One of those big-girl hands reached up and drew the +priest's head lower. "I guess where I been is on the danger +line, all right," Johnnie whispered. "And the Handbook +said a scout don't flinch in the face o' danger, and +this time, gee, I didn't!"</p> + +<p>A rest and some good food had made Cis feel like her +former self by now. Presently she walked into the little +room, lit a nubbin of candle, and changed into her best +clothes. While she was gone, Johnnie drew on his old, big +trousers, and donned Barber's shirt, then moved to the +morris chair. As for Mrs. Kukor, she was gone again, +her face very sober, and the line of her mouth tight and +straight. As she teetered out, it was plain that she was +all but in a panic to get away.</p> + +<p>For evidently things were to happen in the flat before +long. The air of the room proclaimed this fact. And +plainly Barber was uneasy, for he stalked about, starting +nervously whenever Father Pat shut the watch, or when +a footfall sounded beyond the hall door.</p> + +<p>All at once a loud tramping was heard on the stairs—a +determined tramping, as if half a dozen angry men were +setting down their feet as one. Doors flew open, voices +hailed one another up and down the building, and Mrs. +Kukor could be heard pattering in a wide circle beyond +the ceiling. All of this disturbance brought Cis out of her +tiny room, pink-faced once more, and eager-eyed.</p> + +<p>The next moment, with a stomp and a slam, and without +knocking, One-Eye made a whirlwind entrance into the +kitchen, and halted, his wide hat grotesquely over one ear, +a quid of tobacco distending that cheek which the hat brim +touched, a score of questions looking from that single eye, +and every hair on the front of those shaggy breeches fairly +standing out straight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340"></a><a href="images/340.png">[340]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wal?" he demanded, banging the door so hard behind +him that all the dishes in the cupboard rattled. He had on +gauntlets. Their cuffs reached half-way to his elbows. +These added mightily to his warlike appearance.</p> + +<p>"A-a-a-a-h!" greeted Father Pat, joyously.</p> + +<p>So this was the person whose arrival had been awaited! +Nonchalantly Big Tom shifted his weight from foot to +foot, and chuckled through the stubble of his beard.</p> + +<p>"One-Eye!" cried Cis. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come! +Oh, One-Eye, he tied us to the table all night! And he +whipped Johnnie with the rope!"</p> + +<p>That lone green eye began to roll—to Cis's face, seeing +the truth written there, and the story of her long hours +of suffering; to the countenance of the priest, to ask, +dumbly, if any living man had ever heard anything more +outrageous than this; then, "By the Great Horn Spoon!" +he breathed, and again stomped one foot, like an angry +steer.</p> + +<p>Big Tom's smile widened.</p> + +<p>Now, the Westerner crossed to Johnnie, bent, and with +gentle fingers held under the boy's chin, studied those welts +across the pale cheeks. "Crimini!" he murmured. "Crimini! +<i>Crimini!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Look at his chest, and his back!" Cis advised.</p> + +<p>The cowboy lifted Johnnie forward in the morris chair, +and held away the big shirt from breast and shoulders. +What he saw brought him upright like a pistol shot, his +face suddenly scarlet, his mustache whipping up and down, +and that eye of his glowering at the longshoreman ferociously. +"Cæsar Augustus, Philobustus, Hennery Clay!" +he burst out. "Bla-a-ack a-a-and <i>blu-u-ue!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And, oh, listen what <i>else</i> he did!" Cis went on. "The +uniform you gave to Johnnie——"</p> + +<p>"Yas?"</p> + +<p>"<i>He put it in the stove!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341"></a><a href="images/341.png">[341]</a></span></p> + +<p>One-Eye stared. "He put it in the <i>stove?</i>" he repeated, +but as if this really was quite beyond belief.</p> + +<p>"My—my scout suit," added Johnnie, who was too worn +out to weep.</p> + +<p>"The priceless brute!" announced Father Pat.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and all of Johnnie's books, he burned them, too," +Cis added.</p> + +<p>But One-Eye's mind dwelt upon the uniform. "He put +it in the stove!" he drawled. "That khaki outfit I give t' +the boy! He burned it! And it fresh outen the store!"</p> + +<p>"The medal, too, One-Eye! Johnnie's father's medal! +It was in the coat. So all that's left is the shoes!"</p> + +<p>"All that's left is the shoes," growled One-Eye. "He +burned the hat, and the coat, and—and all. After I'd +paid good money fer 'em! The <i>gall!</i> The <i>cheek!</i> The +<i>impydence!</i>" He drew a prodigious breath.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead! Sing about it!" taunted Barber.</p> + +<p>One-Eye was in anything but a singing mood. Spurred +by that taunt, of a sudden he began to do several startling +things: with a gurgle of rage, he snatched off the wide +hat, flung it to the floor with all his might, sprang upon it, +ground it into the boards with both heels; jerked off his +gauntlets and hurled them down with the hat; next wriggled +out of his coat and added it to the pile under his boots; +then ran his hands wildly through his hair, so that it stood +up as straight as the hair on his breeches stood out; and, +last of all, fell to pushing back his sleeves.</p> + +<p>Fascinated the others watched him. Was this the good-natured, +shy, bashful, quiet One-Eye, this red-faced, ramping, +stamping madman?</p> + +<p>He addressed Barber: "Oh, y' ornery, mean, low-down, +sneakin' coyote!" He took a long, leaping step over the +things on the floor—a step in the direction of the longshoreman. +As he sprang, he shifted his tobacco quid from +one cheek to the other. "Say! I'm plumb chuck-full o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342"></a><a href="images/342.png">[342]</a></span> +y'r goin's-on! I'm stuffed with y'r fool pre-<i>form</i>-ances! +I'm fed up t' the neck with 'em! and <i>sick</i> o' 'em! and right +here, <i>and</i> now, you and me is a-goin' t' have this business +O-U-T!"</p> + +<p>"He knows how t' spell it," remarked Barber, facetiously.</p> + +<p>"Heaven strengthen the arm o' ye!" cried the Father.</p> + +<p>Head ducked, hands out like a boxer, One-Eye again +began an advance toward Big Tom, doing a sort of a skating +step—a glide. And as he came on, Barber threw back +his head and guffawed. "Oh, haw! haw! haw! haw! haw!" +he shouted. "Y' don't mean y're goin' t' <i>finish</i> me! Oh, +haw! haw! haw!"</p> + +<p>"A haw-haw's aig in a hee-hee's nest!" returned One-Eye, +and spat on his hands. "Finish y' is what I aim t' +do! I been waitin' <i>and</i> waitin'!" (The cowboy was saying +more in these few minutes, almost, than he had during +all of his former visits to the flat!) "I've waited since +the first time I clapped my eye on y'! I'm the mule that +waited seven years! I been storin' up my kick! And now +it's growed to a humdinger! Y've whaled this here boy, +and tied up this here girl! His face is cut, and his back +is black, and raw, and bleedin'! Wal, it's Tom Barber's +turn t' git a hidin'!—the worst hidin' a polecat ever did +git! So! Where'll y' take it? In this house, 'r outside?" +The question was asked with a final, emphatic stomp, an +up-throw of the disheveled head, a spreading outward of +both gartered arms.</p> + +<p>"That's the way t' talk!" vowed the Father. "Shure, +a coward needs his own punishment handed t' him!—Take +yer whippin', Tom Barber, and take it like a man! For +it's a whippin' that's justly comin' t' ye this mornin', as +all the neighborhood'll agree!"</p> + +<p>"Where?" One-Eye insisted, for the longshoreman had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343"></a><a href="images/343.png">[343]</a></span> +not replied to the question. "Let's don't lose no time! +I'm a-goin' t' hand y' a con-vul-sion! That's it! A con-vul-sion! +I'm goin' t' pull the last, livin' kink outen y'! +Two shakes o' a lamb's tail, and I'll show y' a civy-lized +massacree! Yip-yip-yip-<i>yee-ow!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Goin' t' wipe me out, eh? Goin' t' put me t' bed?" +Barber laid down his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Goin' t' ship y' t' the Hospital!" Side gliding to the +stove, the cowboy delivered up his quid.</p> + +<p>"Hee! hee!" giggled the longshoreman. "Guess I'll jus' +knock that other eye out!"</p> + +<p>One-Eye was waltzing back. "Don't count y'r chickens +'fore they're hatched!" he warned. "'Cause here y're +gittin' a man o' y'r own size, y' great, big, overbearin' +lummox!"</p> + +<p>Barber held up a hand. "This ain't no place t' fight," +he protested. "The old man'd hear."</p> + +<p>"Y' can't git outen it that-a-way!" shouted One-Eye, +arms in the air. "They's miles o' room outside! Come +down into the yard! Mosey! Break trail! Vamose!" +He waved the other out.</p> + +<p>Buoyed up by so much excitement, Johnnie managed to +stand for a moment. "One-Eye!" he cried, all gratitude +and pride; and, "One-Eye!" Cis echoed, her palms together +in a dumb plea for him to do his best.</p> + +<p>The Westerner gave her a look which promised every +result that lay in his power. Then with a jerk of the +head at Father Pat, and again "Yip-yipping" lustily, he +bore down upon the grinning longshoreman, who was filling +the hall doorway.</p> + +<p>They met, and seized each other. Big Tom took One-Eye +by either shoulder, those great baboon hands clamping +themselves over the top joints of the Westerner's arms. +The latter had Barber by the front of his coat and by an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a><a href="images/344.png">[344]</a></span> +elbow. For a moment they hung upon the sill. Then, +pivoting, they swung beyond it. As Father Pat closed +the door upon them, at once there came to the ears of the +trio in the kitchen, the sounds of a rough-and-tumble battle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a><a href="images/345.png">[345]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>ONE-EYE FIGHTS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">THOSE sounds of combat which penetrated to an +anxious kitchen were deep, rasping breathings, muttered +exclamations and grunts, a shuffling of feet +that was not unlike a musicless dance, a swish-swishing, as +if the Italian janitress were mopping up the hall floor, +and a series of soft poundings.</p> + +<p>Yet the battle itself was not amounting to much. In +fact, to speak strictly, no fight was going on at all.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the hall was narrow, and gave small +scope for a contest on broad, generous lines—even had +One-Eye and Big Tom known how to wage such a bout; +and both men knew little concerning the science of self-defense. +What happened—without any further abusive +language—was this: the longshoreman and the cowboy +(while using due caution against coming too close to the +flimsy railing of the stairs) each set about throwing his +antagonist.</p> + +<p>One-Eye sought to trip the longshoreman, but was unsuccessful, +finding those two massive pillars, Big Tom's +legs, as securely fixed to the rough flooring as if they +were a part of the building itself. With his tonglike +arms, Barber pressed down with all his might on the shoulders +of the Westerner; and that moment in which One-Eye +weakened the firmness of his own stand by thrusting out a +boot to dislodge his enemy, the longshoreman had his +chance; with a smothered voicing of his disgust (for One-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a><a href="images/346.png">[346]</a></span>Eye +wished to make as little noise as possible in that semi-public +place), down went the cowboy to his knees.</p> + +<p>Several brunette heads were thrust out of doors above +and below. Melodious Italian voices exclaimed and questioned +and replied, mingling with cries in Yiddish and +East Side English. All the while One-Eye clasped Big +Tom about the legs, and held on grimly, and received, on +either side of his weather-beaten countenance, a score of +hard slaps.</p> + +<p>These were skull-jarring, and not to be endured. So +One-Eye thrust his head between Big Tom's spraddled +legs; then, calling upon every atom of his strength, he +forced his shoulders to follow his head, loosening the longshoreman's +clutch; and with a grunt, down came the giant, +falling upon the cowboy (which accounted for another +grunt), and pinning him to the dusty floor.</p> + +<p>Sprawled, as it were, head and tail, a contest for upper +place now began. One-Eye writhed like a hairy animal +(this the swish-swishing). Being both slender and agile, +he managed to wriggle out from beneath Big Tom, who instantly +turned about and caught him, and once more laid +upon him the whole of his great, steel-constructed bulk.</p> + +<p>The pair strained and rolled. After several changes of +position, in which neither man was at all damaged except +in his appearance, Barber came to the top and stayed +there, like the largest potato in a basket. Then straddling +the lighter man, who was blowing hoarsely, Big Tom cuffed +him leisurely.</p> + +<p>As Father Pat listened to all this, leaned against the +door with his ear cocked, he hoped with all his heart for +the triumph of right over might. "And I can but stand +by t' give consolation and bear witness!" he mourned, +though how he was bearing witness was not apparent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop them! Stop them!" pleaded Cis, a hand over +each ear, for her courage was lessening. "Oh, I'm afraid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a><a href="images/347.png">[347]</a></span> +he's hurting One-Eye awful! Oh, Barber'll kill him, +Father! And what good'll that do <i>us?</i>"</p> + +<p>Thus implored, the priest took a swift survey of the +hall. But, "Oh, don't go!" Cis begged. "And shut it! +Shut it!"</p> + +<p>"Who's on top?" Johnnie wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"They're wrastlin'," announced the Father. "So don't +be alarmed. And Mr. Gamboni's out there, and he'll not +see bloodshed!"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> don't worry!" boasted Johnnie. "Cis, what makes y' +talk the way y' do? Barber, <i>he</i> can't lick a <i>cowboy!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Y' pesky critter!"—this from the hall, in unmistakable +westernese.</p> + +<p>"Y' hear?" joyously demanded Johnnie, recognizing +One-Eye's voice. "Y' hear, Father Pat? Oh, I don't have +t' look! I know how it's goin'! I can <i>see</i> it! One-Eye's +got him down! He's hammerin' him good!—Oh, go for +him, One-Eye! Go for him! <i>Go</i> for him!"</p> + +<p>Slap! slap! slap!</p> + +<p>To judge from these sounds, the cowboy was carrying +out Johnnie's wish. So with that rapt look, and that moving +of the nostrils which betokened excited day-dreaming, +Johnnie gladdened himself with a soul-satisfying picture +of the contest: Big Tom prone on his face, spent, helpless, +cowering, pleading, bleeding, while the dashing One-Eye +rained blow after blow upon him—bing! bing! bing! +("Makin' a meal outen him," as the man from the West +would say). Next, he saw the longshoreman stretched +upon a bed of pain, admitting all of his shortcomings to +Father Pat in weak whispers.</p> + +<p>It was all so real to Johnnie that he fell to pitying Big +Tom!</p> + +<p>He pitied him more as the scene changed swiftly to that +of a funeral (Barber's, of course), at which he—Johnnie—in +a new suit, with Cis beside him, made one carriage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348"></a><a href="images/348.png">[348]</a></span>ful +in an extended line of carriages, all rolling circumspectly +along. That One-Eye's plight, under such circumstances, +might be trying, to say the least, Johnnie forgot +to consider, wholly passing over the small matter of +an inquiry on the part of the police authorities! What he +did anticipate, however, was a flat that, in the future, +would be a peaceful, happy, quiet place—the home of +just Grandpa, Cis, and himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Father Pat, by now One-Eye's dead!" wailed Cis. +"Oh, why didn't some one stop them! Oh! Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>This interruption to Johnnie's visioning was followed +by a loud laugh, and the turning of the hall doorknob. +Johnnie raised himself on an elbow, lifting a hopeful face. +"One-Eye!" he cried. "Hooray! Hooray!"</p> + +<p>But it was Barber who strode into the room.</p> + +<p>He was grinning from one huge, outstanding ear to the +other. "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" he chortled triumphantly. +"Guess I'll have t' go t' the Hospital! Look how I'm all +beat up! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>As he stood laughing, his bristling face split across by +the brown line that was his teeth, his bulging eyes shut with +merriment, his wide, fat nose giving its sidewise jerk with +each guffaw, Johnnie, staring up at him, thought of the +terrible African magician: of the murderous, cruel Magua: +of wicked Tom Watkins and all the man-eating savages +whom the valiant Crusoe fought.</p> + +<p>Here was a man worse than them all! Also—there was +no doubt of it—here was the victor!</p> + +<p>But what about One-Eye?</p> + +<p>"One-Eye!" wailed Johnnie, in terror. For suddenly +his imagination furnished him with a new picture, this time +of the Westerner. And, oh, it was a sadly different picture +from that other! It showed the cowboy, torn, broken, +beaten, stretched dead in his own lifeblood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349"></a><a href="images/349.png">[349]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Dio mio!</i>—Oy! oy! oy! oy! oy!—He oughta be +pinched!"</p> + +<p>The opening door let in this much of the heated opinion +of a portion of the building. The opening door also admitted +the cowboy. Slowly, soberly, almost crawling, he +came.</p> + +<p>He was mournfully changed. That single eye was +puffing redly. His straw-colored hair was almost dark with +sweat, and inclined to lie down. From either shoulder +hung woefully a half of his vest, which had ripped straight +down its back! And, yes, there was blood in evidence!—on +the knuckles of both hands! This bright decoration +was from a nose which dripped scarlet spots upon the +front sections of the vest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, One-Eye!" moaned Cis, yet not without relief. +At least he was alive—could stand—could walk!</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" Johnnie's exclamation had in it a note +of pure chagrin. His cowboy had not won! "What did +he do t' y'?" the boy wanted to know, almost blamefully.</p> + +<p>"Do?" repeated the cowboy, wrathfully. "Say! He +went and busted my fountain pen!" He began feeling his +way toward the stove. When he got as far as the mattress, +he first hunted his handkerchief and applied it to +the stopping of that nasal stream, then, grunting painfully, +he lay down.</p> + +<p>"Git all y' wanted?" inquired the longshoreman.</p> + +<p>"My land!" returned the Westerner. "I got a hay-wagonful!"</p> + +<p>"Man dear!" gasped Father Pat, making for the wash +basin.</p> + +<p>Johnnie felt suddenly heartsick. Would not the tale +of One-Eye's defeat scatter in the neighborhood? and if +it did, would not his own proud position be threatened +along with the cowboy's? Whipped by Tom Barber!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350"></a><a href="images/350.png">[350]</a></span> +That was all right for a kid! But for a man who wore +hair on his breeches——!</p> + +<p>The boy sank back in the morris chair. "I'd sooner +Big Tom'd whip <i>me</i> again!" he declared under his breath.</p> + +<p>Barber was mocking One-Eye. "Yes, man dear!" he +said. "Heaven didn't make y'r arm as strong as y' +wanted it, eh?" He was very cocky, and pushed out either +cheek importantly with his tongue.</p> + +<p>Father Pat was now washing a rapidly closing eye on +a sadly battered countenance. "Shure, Heaven'll deal with +ye in its own good time!" he promised, nodding a portentous +head.</p> + +<p>Big Tom snorted. "He's been waitin' and waitin'," he +observed; "—ever since he first met me. That's why he +give me such a hidin'!"</p> + +<p>One-Eye, the stains of carnage wiped from lip and chin, +peered up through a tiny slit between those puffing lids. +"Big as a barn," he asserted, but without temper. "Big +as a Poland Chinee pig! All beef! All fat!" And to +Johnnie, sunk in his quilt, "Don't y' beller, sonny, <i>I</i> ain't +got no grunt comin'. I done my best. But he's stronger'n +me, that's all they is <i>to</i> it, and heftier. But it all goes to +show that if <i>I</i> ain't no match for him, he's lower'n a +sheep-eatin' greaser t' go hit a kid—'r a <i>girl!</i>" Before +that eye slit closed, he crawled to where his hat, coat and +gauntlets were, took them up, and fell to warping them +into shape again. "But y'r time'll come, sonny!" he +vowed. "Y'r time'll come! Jes' y' wait!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't keep you waitin'," bragged Barber, with +another loud laugh. "And if there's anybody else—" +His look sought the priest. "Why, say! You're a fighter, +ain't y', Father Pat? Wasn't y' in the trenches? I +wonder y' don't lick me y'reself. Ho! ha! ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>At that, the red anger spread itself among the stubble +of the same hue on the Father's still unshaved jaws. "No,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a><a href="images/351.png">[351]</a></span> +he answered grimly, speaking with the thicker brogue that +always came into his English along with his wrath. "No, +Oi can't give ye the dustin' that's comin' t' ye, Barber."</p> + +<p>"It'll take a man t' lick me," declared the longshoreman +proudly. He thumped his chest. "Yes, sir, a reg'lar-sized +man! Now, Furman, he says that, barrin' the World +Champion, 'r some guy like that, there ain't a man standin' +on two feet in this whole country that can down me!" +He thrust out his lower lip.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a!" breathed the priest, scornful. He helped +guide One-Eye to the kitchen chair. "Well, the man Oi +once was, Oi presinted him t' me counthry. So here's +what's left av me. But, Barber, punishment's comin' t' +ye! Mar-rk me wor-r-rd!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Big Tom gave a shout. "Say!" he cried. +"Maybe <i>here's</i> a gent that'd like t' try his hand at lickin' +me!" For the hall door had opened again, and another +visitor was entering—breathlessly, anxiously, swiftly. +"What'd d' y' say, Mister Eye-Glassy, White-Spatty, +Pinky-Face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir! I'll try to do just that! In fact, that's why +I've come. Can't have you strike a girl, you know, Mr. +Barber, or a little chap like Johnnie; not without trying +to punish you. So if you'll oblige me——"</p> + +<p>Thus, with one wave of a gloved hand, was Big Tom +once more bidden to fight, this time by Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oblige?</i>" repeated the longshoreman, delighted. "Dear +Mister Perkins, y're one person that I'm jus' achin' t' +spank!" Then once more showing his pipe-stained teeth +in a grin, "Oh, but I hate awful t' muss y' up! I hate t' +spoil y', Perksie! Y' look so nice and neat and sweet! +Almost like a stick o' candy! And, nobody'll want t' +look at y' after I git done with y'!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins was not ruffled by the longshoreman's +attempt at humor. "Don't waste your breath on com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352"></a><a href="images/352.png">[352]</a></span>pliments, +Mr. Barber," he advised; "you may need it." +He laid a new, black bowler hat on the kitchen table, and +proceeded to draw off his gloves.</p> + +<p>"God grant he will!" cried Father Pat, fervently. "For +besides what he's done to these children, look how he's +treated our poor friend from Kansas!" And the priest +stepped from between the scoutmaster and One-Eye.</p> + +<p>The Westerner waved protesting hands. "Wy-o-ming!" +he corrected, with more than a shade of irritation. "Not +Kansas! Wy-o-ming!" He held up a countenance that +was now wholly—if temporarily—blind.</p> + +<p>"Wyoming," repeated Father Pat, hastily. "And +here's Mr. Perkins, One-Eye, and he's wishin' t' shake +yer hand."</p> + +<p>At that, out shot the cowboy's right. It was still +bloody over the knuckles, the Father having confined his +washing to One-Eye's face. "Put 'er there!" invited the +sightless one.</p> + +<p>"How are you!" greeted Mr. Perkins, heartily; yet +his tone carried with it just the right amount of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Jes' so-so," answered One-Eye. "Look how he slapped +me in the eye!"</p> + +<p>"Cis, my sweetheart, are you all right?" inquired Mr. +Perkins.</p> + +<p>She ran to him, and he took her hands. "Oh, yes!" she +cried happily. "But, oh, I'm so glad you've come!"</p> + +<p>As Father Pat said afterward, it was the sweetheart +that did it. As those young hands met, of a sudden Barber's +good humor went. "That'll do!" he ordered. "Jus' +y' shut up on them pretty names!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! You don't believe in affection, do you?" rejoined +Mr. Perkins. His countenance wore an exasperating smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't b'lieve in puppy love!" answered Big Tom. +"I don't b'lieve in the soft, calf stuff! And I'd jus' like t'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353"></a><a href="images/353.png">[353]</a></span> +know how it happens that you two guys 're here at this +time in the mornin'! How does it come? <i>Some one</i> must +'ve fetched y'! And I'm <i>goin'</i> t' know, 'r else I'm goin' t' +break ev'ry last bone in y'r dude body!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness!" quavered Johnnie. He turned and +twisted in the big chair. And he wished with all his +might that he was having either a very bad think, or a +torturing nightmare. Seeing this second friend come, he +had felt an awful sinking of the heart. If the Westerner, +rough and ready and leathery as he was, could not conquer +Big Tom, what would the young scoutmaster be able +to do?—and he so slender and light when compared to the +giant longshoreman! And now the latter was working +himself into a rage! Johnnie, head thrust from the folds +of the quilt, told himself that the whole world was coming +to an end.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Perkins did not seem to be disturbed by Barber's +threats. "Fancy that!" he said calmly. "Every +bone! But where will you take it, Mr. Barber?"</p> + +<p>"Take what?" asked the longshoreman.</p> + +<p>"Your whipping," answered Mr. Perkins; "—the good, +sound, punching that I'm going to give you." He began +to get out of his coat.</p> + +<p>A shout of laughter—from Big Tom, who next addressed +the ceiling. "Oh, listen t' this cute baby boy!" he cried. +"He thinks he can lick me! Me!—one o' the strongest +men on the whole water front! One-Eye, tell him how far +<i>you</i> got! Oh, save his life, One-Eye! Save his life!"</p> + +<p>"Wisht I had a chunk o' fresh beefsteak fer this lamp!" +declared the cowboy, too miserable to care about what +was going forward.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Mr. Perkins, "if you're so certain on +the score of what you're going to do to me, Mr. Barber, +then, of course, you'll be willing to make a bargain with +me. Yes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a><a href="images/354.png">[354]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barber was in fine spirits. "Go ahead! Course I'll +bargain! Anything y' like! Git it out o' y'r system!" +He sucked his teeth noisily.</p> + +<p>"If I come out winner," began the scoutmaster, very +deliberately, "then I'm to have Narcissa for my wife—and +you'll sign your consent. And we shall go at once—this +morning—and be married."</p> + +<p>"So that's y'r bargain, is it?" said Big Tom. "Well, +I'll say this: <i>if</i> y' can lick me, which y' can't, then I'll +make y' a present o' Cis——"</p> + +<p>"Don't give away what isn't yours!" Cis interrupted +sharply. "And please understand, bargain or no bargain, +that I'm leaving here this morning. If I can't marry Mr. +Perkins without your consent, then I'll just wait till I +can."</p> + +<p>The longshoreman ignored her. "I stick by what I've +jus' said, Perksie," he went on, impudently. "BUT—if +I lick <i>you</i>, and I'm goin' t', then out y' trot, and down, and +y' lose her! Y' understand?"</p> + +<p>"I understand that I lose her until she is old enough +to do as she chooses," amended Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>"After t'day, y' don't see her again," insisted Big Tom, +"till she's growed up."</p> + +<p>"I'll see him every day!" cried Cis. "Every day!—Don't +agree to that, Algy! The marriage part, yes, +because we can't help ourselves. But he's not going to +part us! I'm leaving, but wherever I am, I'm going to +see you!"</p> + +<p>The longshoreman turned toward her now, and his look +was full of hate. "I guess y'll do jus' about what I tell +y' to," he said significantly. "Algy's goin' t' be too sick +t' look after y'."</p> + +<p>Johnnie emitted a woeful little peep. "Oo-oo! Mister +Perkins!" he pleaded. "Couldn't y' put off fightin' till—till +some other time?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a><a href="images/355.png">[355]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie's anxious demand amused Big Tom. It amused +Cis, too, but for a wholly different reason. As they +laughed together, each challenged the other with angry +eyes.</p> + +<p>Johnnie, feeling fainter every moment, marveled as he +stared at Cis. There was no question as to her perfect +confidence regarding the outcome of the fight. And he +marveled even more when he looked at Mr. Perkins. The +latter was cheerful—even gay! He forgot nothing. First, +he shook hands with Father Pat; next with One-Eye. +"Maybe you'd like to have me put you into a taxicab +before this row starts," he said to the cowboy.</p> + +<p>"Nope," was the answer. "I'm goin' t' stay fer the +concert."</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins went to Cis, took her fingers in his, bent +gallantly, and kissed them. "Wish me good luck!" he +bade her.</p> + +<p>"It won't be luck," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Ain't his hands nice and clean!" mocked Barber. +"Ain't his nails shiny!" There was an ugly glitter in the +bulging eyes once more. A moment later, as he found +himself close to Mr. Perkins (for the latter had come to +join him), he acted upon a sudden temptation. Reaching +out, with an impudent grin he tweaked the younger man +lightly by the nose.</p> + +<p>Biff!</p> + +<p>The blow was so sudden, so powerful and straight to +its mark (which was a jaw), that Big Tom's breath went—as +his toes tipped up, and he began to reel backward, +fanning the air with both arms.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a!" cried the priest. "No wonder ye stand +t' yer feet, Johnnie lad! Shure, that puts the faith into +ye, don't it!"</p> + +<p>Barber was against a wall, choking, spluttering. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a><a href="images/356.png">[356]</a></span>—you—you—!" +he panted. "The idear o' hittin' a man +without warnin'!"</p> + +<p>"I know," agreed Mr. Perkins, good-naturedly. "Also, +the idea of pulling a man's nose without warning."</p> + +<p>Now Big Tom was in the proper frame of mind for +the fight. "You go on downstairs!" he ordered. "And +let me tell y' this: When I git done with y', they'll pick +y' up on a quilt! Git that?—on a <i>quilt!</i>"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins opened the hall door. "You lead the way +downstairs," he said. "I trust you, Mr. Barber, but somehow +I don't trust your feet."</p> + +<p>Then the two went out, the longshoreman trembling +with rage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a><a href="images/357.png">[357]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>SIR ALGERNON</h3> + + +<p class="cap">TO the right, at the rear end of the long, black hallway +that connected the area with the street on the +north, was a good-sized room which had once been +used by a job printer—as proven by the rubbish in it: +strips of wood, quantities of old type, torn paper, and +ragged, inky cloths. The room had a pair of large windows +looking out upon the brick pavement; but as these +windows were smeared and dust-sprinkled, the place offered +privacy. And Barber, leading the way down from his +own flat, did not halt until he stood in the center of it.</p> + +<p>"I'm not goin' t' have no cop stop this fight," he declared +grimly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins, entering, shut the door at his back. +"Neither am I," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause, as the two men, separated +by several feet, gazed at each other. Physically, the contrast +between them was horrific. Slight, neat, dapper, +showing even no ill-temper, Mr. Perkins seemed but a poor +match for Barber, whose appearance was more gorillalike +than usual (hair disheveled, heavy shoulders humped, +teeth grinding savagely under puffed and bristling lips, +huge hands at the ends of long, curving arms, spreading +and closing with the desire to clutch and rend). Yet Big +Tom was plainly not so cocksure of himself as he had +been, while the scoutmaster wore an air of complete confidence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a><a href="images/358.png">[358]</a></span></p> + +<p>Suddenly, muttering a curse, the longshoreman lurched +forward and reached for the younger man. In the same +instant, Mr. Perkins clenched his own fists and held them +before him on guard. But also he advanced, though elusively, +slipping to one side of those great paws. As he +side stepped, with a duck of the head he gathered himself +together, snapped forward, and landed a jab square upon +Barber's right eye.</p> + +<p>"Ow-oo!" It was a bellow, mingling surprise with rage +and pain. Involuntarily, the longshoreman fell back a +pace, and lifted a hand to his face. As he did so, with +another down-jerk of the chin, and another leap, once +more the scoutmaster rammed him—upon the left eye. +And followed this up with a lightning stroke on that big, +twisted nose.</p> + +<p>At this, Big Tom made a rush. So far, the fight was +not of the kind he had waged with One-Eye—a rough-and-tumble +affair in which brute strength and weight +counted in his favor. But pounds, combined with lack of +training, slowness, and awkwardness, put him at a sad +disadvantage when facing this smaller, lighter man who +had speed, and science, and was accustomed to bouts. +Since Barber could not change his own method of fighting, +he understood that he must change the tactics of his +adversary; must grab the scoutmaster, bear him to the +floor, and beat him. This he determined to do. Wildly +he churned the air with those knuckles of steel.</p> + +<p>"If I git my hands on y'," he stormed, "I'll tear y' in +<i>two!</i>" The taste of his own blood was in his mouth now, for +a warm stream of it was spreading from his nostrils to his +lips and chin.</p> + +<p>"You won't get your hands on me," promised Mr. Perkins. +He dodged nimbly from side to side as the longshoreman +came on, and kept just beyond the latter's +grasp. Watching his chance, he darted in and landed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a><a href="images/359.png">[359]</a></span> +fourth blow—under an eye; then got away again, carefully +preserving himself against being struck while doing +the greatest amount of damage possible to the enemy.</p> + +<p>All the time he watched to see that he was not cornered. +A moment, and the junction of two walls came over close +to his back; so under one of those flesh-and-blood flails +he slipped; and, coming up behind Big Tom, struck the +latter a whanging blow on an ear. "You're going to +spank me, are you?" he taunted. "Well, come on and do +it! Come on!"</p> + +<p>More maddened than ever, and swearing horribly, the +longshoreman whirled and started a second pursuit. He +blew the blood from his lips, the better to breathe, spattering +the scarlet countenance of Mr. Perkins with scores of +dots which were a deeper red. And as he blew, he cut +the air with his arms, hitting nothing.</p> + +<p>"Why don't y' stand up and fight!" he raged. "Stop +that jumpin' 'round!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you want to wrestle, don't you!" mocked Mr. +Perkins. "But this time you've got to box!"</p> + +<p>"Y' won't git ev'rything y'r own way!" vowed Big Tom, +panting curses, and still whirling his arms like the fans +of a windmill.</p> + +<p>Changing his steps like a dancer, the scoutmaster fell +back. But now he was at a disadvantage, for his face was +toward those windows, and the light was in his eyes. As +he flitted and shied, tiring Barber and shortening the big +man's wind, he watched his chance to bolt under and by +as before. Foot on foot the space between him and the +rear wall of the room lessened. He sprang, now right, now +left, on the alert for his opening. It came. He shot +forward——</p> + +<p>A staggering clout from a heavy hand hurled him +against a side wall like a battering-ram. The breath was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360"></a><a href="images/360.png">[360]</a></span> +driven out of his lungs. Dizzily he plunged forward to +his hands and knees among the débris on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Ha-a-a-a-a!" It was a shout of triumph from the +longshoreman.</p> + +<p>But that wallop, hard as it was, had been delivered +accidentally. And as Barber, whose eyes were now swelling +from the scoutmaster's initial blows, scarcely knew +where his opponent was, he failed to seize Mr. Perkins, +who was up like a cat, and on, and facing round.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll git y'!" cried Barber. As he, in turn, faced +about, he began to kick out furiously, now with one foot, +now with the other.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Each moment was passing in painful anxiety to the +group in the Barber flat. Mrs. Kukor made one of that +group, having teetered in directly Big Tom and Mr. +Perkins were gone. Now her hat was off and her apron +on; with the latter she constantly fanned a face which, +its color sped, was a sickly shade of tan. All the while +she murmured strange words under her breath, only +breaking out every now and then with an "Ach! poor +poy! Poor poy!" As she did not look at either Johnnie +or One-Eye, it was evident that she had Mr. Perkins in +mind.</p> + +<p>As for Father Pat, he complained about himself. "If I +only had me lungs!" he mourned. To and fro he walked, +to and fro. "If only I could do annything except talk! +Dear! dear! dear! dear!"</p> + +<p>The cowboy, blinder than ever, comforted himself with +praising the absent scoutmaster. "That young feller's +O. K.," he asserted. "I can tell it by the way he grabbed +my paw. Yas, ma'am! I liked the way he shook hands. +He'll come out better'n me. Watch if I ain't right! I +ain't worryin'!"—this though the sweat of concern was +even then dampening his countenance!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></a><a href="images/361.png">[361]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie, listening and watching, curled himself farther +and farther into his quilt, and feebly groaned. He was +seeing, seeing, seeing, and what he saw was agonizing. +"Oh, Mister Perkins'll be licked!" he faltered. "Oh, I +wish I could've went along. But I'm weak! Oh, Father +Pat, the next time I git licked, I'll keep it t' myself!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be silly!" admonished Cis, apprehensive, but +calm, being buoyed up by hope based upon solid information. +"Didn't I tell you, Johnnie, to 'wait till Mr. Perkins +finds out'? Well, we waited, tied to the table like two +thieves, or something. And Mr. Perkins <i>has</i> found out, +and he's giving Tom Barber a sound thrashing! So <i>I'm</i> +not worrying!"</p> + +<p>"I can see y' ain't," declared One-Eye, admiringly. He +was back at the sink once more, allowing Niagara to lave +that injured eye, now a shining purplish-black. "Bully +fer the gal! That's the stuff! Y' got backbone! And +spirit, by thunder! And sand! Jes' paste <i>that</i> in yer +sunbonnet! But, Cis, w'y don't y' skedaddle right <i>now?</i> +Go whilst the goin's good! Gosh, I'm 'feard that some +one's likely t' git hurt pretty bad, and it won't be Barber! +So whoever it is will need t' be nursed."</p> + +<p>"Oy! oy! oy! oy!" lamented Mrs. Kukor.</p> + +<p>"I'll nurse him!" cried Johnnie, hardly able to keep +back the tears. "I'll go with him, and take care of him, +and cook for him."</p> + +<p><ins title="Transcriber's Note: This text added. See the note at the end.">"Don't you understand,</ins> +Johnnie? <i>I'm</i> going with him! I'm to be Mrs. +Perkins! And—I'll be right here when Algy comes in."</p> + +<p>"But—but—!" whispered Johnnie. What he was +thinking made allowance for no such charming event as +a wedding; rather for the same sort of doleful procession +he had pictured before, only now Big Tom was in the +carriage with him, while poor Mr. Perkins——!</p> + +<p>One-Eye had something of the sort in his own mind, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362"></a><a href="images/362.png">[362]</a></span> +as he forsook the sink, Mrs. Kukor leading him, he shook +a rumpled head at her. "Barber's bigger'n a barn!" he +observed grimly.</p> + +<p>"Pos-i-<i>tivvle!</i>"</p> + +<p>Cis laughed, tossing her head. "<i>I</i> don't care how big +he is," she declared, "or how mad! Algy can take care +of himself."</p> + +<p>Looking at her, Johnnie felt both pity and disgust—pity +for the grief she would undoubtedly suffer soon, disgust +for her girl's lack of understanding. Was not the young, +boyish, slender scoutmaster fighting this very moment for +his life, and that with a steel-constructed giant? "Aw, +jus' look at One-Eye!" he counseled argumentatively, and +groaned again.</p> + +<p>"Wait for Algy," returned Cis, crossing to slip an +affectionate arm about Mrs. Kukor's shoulders. "And +don't fret. Because Algy's the amateur light-heavyweight +champion of his club, and it's an athletic club, and——!"</p> + +<p>"What-a-a-at?" roared Father Pat. "He's the—he's +the—oh, say it again!"</p> + +<p>But even as Cis opened her lips to speak, swift steps +were heard on the stairs outside. She knew them. She +rushed to the door and flung it wide. And the next moment, +fairly bouncing in, and looking as pink-faced, and +white-spatted, and dapper as ever, was none other than +Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>The dude had whipped his man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363"></a><a href="images/363.png">[363]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>GOOD-BYS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">A CHORUS of happy cries greeted him: "Dearest!"—"Oh, +gee!"—"Satan's defeated!"—"Goli'th wass +licked, und David wass boss!"—"Whoopee!"</p> + +<p>Then, great excitement. Cis ran to Mr. Perkins, laughing, +"Oh, you're safe! You're safe!" Whereupon he +kissed her fingers again; and Johnnie, on his feet now, +felt that here, indeed, was a young knight come from +defending his lady. And he asked himself why he had +ever thought that Mr. Perkins was too much of a gentleman +to be awe-inspiring.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Father Pat and Mrs. Kukor were shaking +hands like mad, and mingling their broken English in a +torrent of gratitude. To their voices, Grandpa, out of +sight beyond the bedroom door, added his, not knowing +what the celebration was about, yet cackling hilariously.</p> + +<p>As for One-Eye, his conduct was extraordinary. Suddenly +showing new life, once more he took off his coat, +found his hat and gauntlets, flung all under him, and upon +them did a grotesque dance of joy. And "Yip! yip! yip! +yip!" he shouted. "Y' tole him he'd need his breath! Oh, +peaches-'n'-cream! Oh, cute baby boy! Oh, who's on the +quilt <i>now?</i>"</p> + +<p>"One-Eye, did ye ever see annything like it in Kansas?" +demanded the Father triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Wy-o-ming! Wy-<i>o</i>-ming!" roared the cowboy. "Yip! +yip! yip! yee-ow!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></a><a href="images/364.png">[364]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie was no less delighted, but he was still too weak +to do very much. He contented himself with taking a +turn up and down the room, walking like Mr. Perkins, +holding his head like Mr. Perkins (so that an imaginary +<i>pince-nez</i> should not fall off), and talking to himself in +true scoutmaster style—"To insure a long life, to defend +oneself, to protect others. Training, that's the idea! +Be prepared!"</p> + +<p>Next, he lost himself in a glorious think. This time it +was far in the future. He was big and strong and brown. +And he saw himself rising quietly in the very teeth of +some stalwart villain to say that the matter of the beautiful +young lady concerned (dimly she was a larger, but +a perfect, copy of the little girl on the fire escape) would +be taken up downstairs, where a fight would not disturb +poor, old Mr. Tom Barber.</p> + +<p>At that he fell to doing his exercises; first, the arm-movements—up, +down! up down! then the leg—out, back! +out, back! adding a bend or two of his sore body by way +of good measure, and resolving to do better and better +along these lines every morning of his life from now on.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins was the only person who was perfectly calm. +He found his coat and put it on; he adjusted his glasses. +In fact, the scoutmaster, returned unscathed from his +battle, might have been taken as a model for all victors. +For he did not smile exultantly, did not swagger one step, +but was grave and modest. "Put on your hat, sweetheart," +he said to Cis. His voice was deep and tender.</p> + +<p>At once there was hurry and bustle. Mrs. Kukor gave +one prodigious doll-rock which turned her square about, +and she disappeared into the tiny room, evidently to help +with the packing. "Oh, but I'm all ready!" declared Cis, +following the little Jewish lady. "And, Father Pat, you +won't mind coming with us?" asked Mr. Perkins. "I'll +do that with pleasure," answered the priest, heartily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365"></a><a href="images/365.png">[365]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie felt a touch on his arm. "Sonny!" One-Eye +whispered. "Can't y' hear somethin'? Listen!"</p> + +<p>All listened. From the area below unmistakable cheers +were rising, and taunting shouts. They came booming +through the kitchen window. Barber was crossing the +brick pavement to the door of the building, and his neighbors +were triumphing in his defeat.</p> + +<p>Father Pat came to Johnnie. "Lad dear," he said, "tell +me: as ye hear 'em yell at him, and all on account o' what +he did t' Cis and yerself, and because they're glad he's +been whipped,—tell me, scout boy, how d' ye feel towards +him in yer own heart?"</p> + +<p>"We-e-ell,—" began Johnnie; "we-e-ell—" and stopped. +Countless times he had punished Big Tom in his own way; +and had looked ahead to the hour when, grown-up, and +the longshoreman's physical equal, he could measure out +to the latter punishment of a substantial kind. Yet now +that Mr. Perkins had done just this, where was the overwhelming +satisfaction? He was glad, of course, that Mr. +Perkins had come out victor, and had not been beaten as +One-Eye had been beaten; but so far as he himself was concerned, +the truth was that Big Tom's mortification was +dust in his mouth, and ashes, though, somehow, he shrank +from admitting it. "Well, Father Pat," he added faintly, +"I—I guess I—I'm not—er—what y'd call <i>glad</i>."</p> + +<p>"Ah, me grand lad!" exclaimed the priest. "Ye feel +like I want ye t' feel! Because that's how a fine, decent +lad <i>ought</i> t' feel! Not glad! Not gloryin' over a bully +that's had his desert! Not holdin' on t' hate once the fight +is done! Lad dear, ye don't ever disappoint Father Pat! +And, oh, he thanks God for it!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie felt boyishly shy and awkward then, looking +at the floor and wriggling his toes, and taking back into +his cheeks quite a supply of color in the form of blushes.</p> + +<p>One-Eye also broke forth with commendations. "That's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></a><a href="images/366.png">[366]</a></span> +the ticket!" he cried. "No crowin'! Aw, Johnnie, y're +a blamed white kid!" Whereupon, feeling around close +to the floor till he located one of Johnnie's ankles, he made +his way up to those narrow—and sore—shoulders, and +gave them such a hearty slap of approbation that tears +started in a certain pair of yellow-gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad, too, that you feel as you do about it," said +Mr. Perkins, earnestly. "And, Johnnie, have you done +your good turn yet to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered Johnnie, apologetically. "But y' +see, I been tied t' the table, and also I jus' only come to, +and——"</p> + +<p>"I understand," broke in the scoutmaster quickly. "But +perhaps when Mr. Barber comes in—his face, you know. +Could you wash it up a bit?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-es, sir,"—reluctantly; for young as he was, +Johnnie realized that whatever his own feelings toward +the longshoreman might be, they were no gauge of the +feelings of the longshoreman toward him. However, dutifully +he went to find the wash basin, and fill it; and he +accepted from Mr. Perkins a most immaculate wash cloth, +this one of those wonderful handkerchiefs which had colored +borders.</p> + +<p>He was prepared for his good turn not a moment too +soon. For the stairs outside were creaking under slow +and heavy steps. "The conq'rin' hero!" announced One-Eye, +with a blind, but sweepin' bow in the general direction +of the on-comer.</p> + +<p>"Sh!" cautioned Mr. Perkins.</p> + +<p>One-Eye did a comical collapse upon the mattress, his +reinhand, as he chose to term his left, well stuffed into +his mustached mouth. The others were silent, too—as the +door opened and Big Tom came crawling in.</p> + +<p>This was a woefully changed Big Tom. His great, +hairy face was darker than usual, what with the battering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></a><a href="images/367.png">[367]</a></span> +it had received, and the blood which was drying upon it. +There was a scarlet gap across one of those prominent +ears, the lobe of which was as red as if set with a ruby. +As he swung the door and advanced unsteadily, he tried +to keep his face averted from those in the room, and +hitched petulantly at a sleeve of his shirt, which had been +ripped from end to end by a blow. Spent, bent, beaten, +half-blind, puffing pink foam from his mouth at each +breath, he stumbled toward the bedroom. The back of one +hand was cut and raw, where he had driven it with all +his might against a side of the old printing shop, hoping +to strike the scoutmaster. From it fell drops which +made small, round, black spots on the dusty floor.</p> + +<p>At sight of the big man, so cowed and helpless, "God +save us!" breathed Father Pat, astounded, and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Mister Barber!" It was Johnnie, timidly. Yet he +forced himself to go close to the longshoreman, and held +the brimming basin well forward. "Can I—will y' let me +wash y'r face?"</p> + +<p>"Lemme <i>alone!</i>" almost screamed Big Tom. With a +curse, and without turning his head, he made one of those +flail-like sweeps with an arm, struck the basin, and sent +it full in the face of the boy. It drenched the big, old +shirt, emptied out the wet handkerchief, and whirled to +the floor with a clatter.</p> + +<p>Then, mumbling another curse, the longshoreman spat, +and a large, brown tooth went skipping across the room. +Its owner lumbered against the bedroom door, bumping it +with knees and forehead, opened it awkwardly against himself, +half fell upon the wheel chair as he crossed the sill, +swore louder than ever, and slammed the door at his heels, +shutting from the sight of the others his wounds and his +injured pride.</p> + +<p>For a little, no one said anything. Johnnie, with the +water dripping from his yellow hair, was no longer in that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368"></a><a href="images/368.png">[368]</a></span> +generous, good-scout state of mind. On the contrary, he +was enjoying some satisfaction over Big Tom's plight. +How like a bully was his foster father acting!—bellowing +with delight when he overcame a man smaller than himself, +and one who had poor sight; and raging when a second +smaller man met and bested him in a fair fight. But +Johnnie made no comment as he picked up the handkerchief +and the basin, wrung out the linen square and methodically +hung it up to dry, and put away the pan.</p> + +<p>"Man dear," whispered Father Pat to the scoutmaster, +"don't ye ever be visitin' here agin! For, shure, Barber'll +kill ye!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!"—Johnnie was frightened. "And maybe he'll +have y' 'rested!"</p> + +<p>"No, old fellow," said Mr. Perkins, reassuringly. "He's +lost out, and he's not likely to advertise it. —But I'm +sorry about that tooth." He hunted it, found it, and +examined it carefully. "It's a front tooth, too." He +dropped it into the stove.</p> + +<p>"Too-ooth?" drawled One-Eye, suddenly sitting up. +Not being able to see, he had not been able to note the +effect of the scoutmaster's art upon Big Tom. But now, +understanding a little of the damage Mr. Perkins had +done, the cowboy began to giggle like a girl, wrapped his +arms about his fur-covered knees, laid his head upon them, +and set his body to rocking hilariously. "Oh, gosh, a +tooth!" he cried. "Oh! Ouch! And he begged me t' +save this young feller's life!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor came stealing out of the tiny room. "He +wass fierce!" she declared, under her breath. "Nefer before +wass he soch-like!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mister Perkins, hurry up and git away!" begged +Johnnie. (Suppose Big Tom should come bursting out +of the bedroom to renew the trouble?) "It's been awful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369"></a><a href="images/369.png">[369]</a></span> +here ever since yesterday and it seems like I jus' couldn't +stand no more!"</p> + +<p>"All right, scout boy." Mr. Perkins took a paper +from an inner pocket of his coat, and from another a +fountain pen which Barber had not damaged. He handed +both to Father Pat, who rose at once and boldly entered +the bedroom. "That's the consent," the scoutmaster +explained to Johnnie. He got One-Eye into a chair and +bandaged his swollen eye in the masterly manner one might +logically expect from the leader of a troop. This addition +to the cowboy's already picturesque get-up gave him an +altogether rakish and daring touch.</p> + +<p>By the time the bandaging was done, here was Father +Pat again, all wide, Irish smiles. "Signed!" said he. +"And, shure, Mr. Perkins, he paid ye a grand compliment! +Faith, and he did! It was after he scratched his name. +'That dude,' said he, 'if he was t' work on the docks,' said +he, 'would likely out-lift the whole lot of us.' Think o' it! +Those were his very words!"</p> + +<p>Cis came forth from her room now, hatted, and carrying +what she was taking—a few toilet articles and one or +two cherished belongings of her mother's, all carefully +wrapped in a shoe box. That it was pitiful, her having +to go with so little, occurred neither to her nor to Johnnie. +But it was just as well that they did not understand, as +the older people in the kitchen did, how tragic that shoe +box was.</p> + +<p>She was carrying something which she was not taking: +Edwarda, until recently so treasured and beloved. She +laid the doll upon the oilcloth, glanced at One-Eye, and +put a finger to her lips. "You can give it to some little +girl, Johnnie," she said; "—some real poor little girl."'</p> + +<p>"All right." (He had decided on the instant who should +have Edwarda!) "But I'd go 'long fast, if I was you," +he added, with a fearsome look toward the bedroom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370"></a><a href="images/370.png">[370]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cis came to him. "Mrs. Kukor'll be right upstairs," +she reminded (the little Jewish lady was trotting out and +away, not trusting herself to look on at their farewells).</p> + +<p>"And I'll drop in often," interposed Father Pat; +"—please God!"</p> + +<p>One-Eye divined what was going forward. He got up +uneasily. "Dang it, if I ain't sorry I'm goin' West so +soon again!" he fretted. "But I'll tote y' back with me +some day, sonny—see if I don't! Also, I'll peek in oncet +'r twicet afore I go—that is, if my lamp gits better."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Johnnie again. He had but one idea +now: to get every one safely away. So he was not sad.</p> + +<p>"You—you can have my room now," Cis went on, swallowing, +and trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"Thank y'."</p> + +<p>They shook hands, then, both a little awkwardly. Next, +she bent to kiss him. Boylike, he was not eager for that, +with Father Pat and Mr. Perkins looking on. So he +backed away deprecatingly, and she succeeded only in +touching her lips to a tuft of his bright hair. But at once, +forgetting manly pride, he wound his arms about her, and +laid his hurt cheek against her shoulder; and she patted +his sore back gently, and dropped a tear or two among +the tangles brushing her face.</p> + +<p>When he drew away from her, he saw that neither +Father Pat nor Mr. Perkins were watching them. The +former had a hand across his eyes (was he praying, or +just being polite?); while the scoutmaster, hands behind +him, and chin in air, was staring out of the window.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready, Algy,"—Cis tried to say it as casually as +if she were going only to the corner. She joined Father +Pat and One-Eye at the door.</p> + +<p>Now it was Mr. Perkins's turn. He came over and held +out a hand. "Well, John Blake," he said (he had never +used "John" before), "you'll be in our thoughts every hour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371"></a><a href="images/371.png">[371]</a></span> +of the day—you, and Grandpa. You know you're not +losing a sister; you're gaining a brother."</p> + +<p>They shook hands then, as men should. But a moment +later, by an impulse that was mutual, each put his arms +about the other in a quick embrace.</p> + +<p>"My little brother!"</p> + +<p>"My—my big brother!"</p> + +<p>"Hate to leave you, scout boy."</p> + +<p>"Aw, that's all right. Y' know me, Mister Perkins. I +don't mind this old flat. 'Cause,—well, I don't ever have +t' stay in it if I don't want t'. I mean, I can be wherever +I want t' be. And—and I'm with Aladdin most o' the +time, 'r King Arthur. And this next day 'r so, I'm plannin' +t' spend on Treasure Island." All this was intended +to make them feel more cheerful. Now he smiled; and what +with the shine of his tow hair, his light brows and his +flaxen lashes, combined with the flash of his yellow-flecked +eyes and white teeth, the effect was as if sunlight were +falling upon that brave, freckleless, blue-striped face.</p> + +<p>The four went then, the Father guiding One-Eye, and +Cis with Mr. Perkins. They went, and the door closed +upon them, and a hard moment was come to test his +spirit—that moment just following the parting. Fortunately +for him, however, Grandpa demanded attention. +Beyond the bedroom door the little, old soldier, as if he +guessed that something had happened, set up a sudden +whimpering, and tried to turn the knob and come out.</p> + +<p>Johnnie brought him, giving not a glance to the great +figure bulking on Barber's bed, and shutting the door as +soft as he could. He fed the old man, talking to him cheerily +all the while. "Cis is goin' t' be married," he recounted, +"and have, oh, a swell weddin' trip. And then some day, +when she gits back, she'll pop in here again, and tell us +a-a-all about it! So now you go s'eepy-s'eepy, and when +y' wake, Johnnie'll have some dandy supper f'r y'!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372"></a><a href="images/372.png">[372]</a></span></p> + +<p>His boy's spirit buoyed up by this picture of great +happiness for another, he began to sing as he wheeled +Grandpa backward and forward—to sing under his +breath, however, so as not to disturb Big Tom! He sang +out of his joy over the joy of those two who were just +gone out to their new life; and he sang to bring contentment +to the heart of the little, old soldier, and sleep to those pale, +tired eyes:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, Cis, she's goin' t' be Mrs. Algernon Perkins,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And live in a' awful stylish flat.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">There's a carpet and curtains in the flat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And a man 'most as good as Buckle t' do all the work.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And she's goin' t' have a velvet dress, I think, maybe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And plenty o' good things t' eat all the time—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Butter ev-ry day, I guess, and eggs, too,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And nice, red apples, if she wants 'em——"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And so, caroling on and on, he put old Grandpa to sleep.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But how his song would have died in his throat if he +could have guessed that, of the four who had just left,—those +four whom he loved so sincerely—one, and oh, +what a dear, dear one, was never to pass across the threshold +again!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373"></a><a href="images/373.png">[373]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>LEFT BEHIND</h3> + + +<p class="cap">EMPTY!</p> + +<p>He did not enter the tiny room. Now, all at +once, it seemed a sacred place, having for so long +sheltered her who was sweet and fine. And he felt instinctively +that the blue-walled retreat was not for him; that +he should not stretch himself out in his soiled, ragged +clothes on that dainty couch-shelf where she had lain.</p> + +<p>He stood on the threshold to look in. How beautiful it +was! From to-day forward, would she truly have another +any handsomer? The faint perfume of it (just recently +she had acquired a fresh stock of orris root) was like a +breath from some flower-filled garden—such a garden as +he had read about in <i>The Story of Aladdin</i>. And yes, +the little cell itself was like one of Aladdin's caskets from +which had been taken a precious jewel.</p> + +<p>Just now it was a casket very much in disarray, for Cis +had tumbled it in wind-storm fashion as she made ready +to leave, carelessly throwing down several things that she +had formerly handled delicately: the paper roses, the sliver +of mirror, the pretty face of a moving-picture favorite. +As for that box flounced with bright crepe paper, it was +ignominiously heaved to one side. And that cherished likeness +of Mr. Roosevelt was hanging slightly askew.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie did not set straight the photograph of +his hero, or stoop to pick anything up. He could think of +just one thing: she was gone!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374"></a><a href="images/374.png">[374]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she would never come back—never, never, never, +never! He began to repeat the word, as he and Cis had +been wont to repeat words, trying hard to realize the whole +of their meaning: "Never! never! never! never." And once +more there came over him that curious lost feeling that he +had suffered after Aunt Sophie was gone in the clanging +ambulance. Once more, too, he grew rebellious. "Oh, why +does ev'rything have t' go 'n' bust up!" he questioned +brokenly, voicing again the eternal protest of youth against +an unexpected, pain-dealing shift in Life's program.</p> + +<p>That time he had run away, she had promised that she +would never leave <i>him!</i>—had said it with many nevers. +"And she ain't ever before stayed out in the evenin' like +this," he told himself. No, not in all the years he had +been at the Barber flat.</p> + +<p>However, he felt no resentment toward her for going. +How could he? Now that she was away, she seemed unspeakably +dear, faultlessly perfect.</p> + +<p>But, left behind, what was he? what did he have? +what would become of him? To all those questions there +was only one answer: Nothing. He was alone with a +helpless, childish, old man and that other. "And I've tried +'n' tried!" he protested (he meant that he had tried to +please Barber, tried to do his work better, tried to deserve +more consideration from the longshoreman). And this +was what had come of all his striving: Cis had been driven +away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin' worse can happen t' me!" he declared despairingly. +"Nothin'! nothin'!" What a staff she had +always been, and how much he had leaned upon that staff, +he did not suspect till now, when it was wrenched from +under his hand. He had a fuller understanding, too, of +what a comfort she had steadily been—she, the only bright +and beautiful thing in the dark, poor flat! And to think +that, boylike, he had ever shrunk out from under her car<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375"></a><a href="images/375.png">[375]</a></span>essing +fingers, or fled from her proffered kiss! O his +darling comrade and friend! O little mother and sister in +one!</p> + +<p>"Cis!" he faltered. "Cis!"</p> + +<p>An almost intolerable sense of loss swept him, like a +wave brimming the cup of his grief. His forehead seemed +to be bulging, as if it would burst. His heart was bursting, +too. And something was tearing, clawlike, at his +throat and at his vitals. Just where the lower end of his +breastbone left off was the old, awful, aching, gnawing, +"gone" feeling. Much in his short life he had found hard +to bear; but never anything so appalling as this! If only +he might cry a little!</p> + +<p>"Sir Gawain, he c-cried," he remembered, "when he found +out he was f-fightin' his own b-brother. And Sir G-Gareth, +he c-cried too." Also, no law of the twelve in the Handbook +forbade a scout to weep.</p> + +<p>His eyes closed, his mouth lengthened out pathetically, +his cheeks puckered, his chin drew up grotesquely, trembling +as if tortured; then he bent his head and began to +sob, terribly, yet silently, for he feared to waken Grandpa. +Down his hurt face streamed the tears, to fall on the big, +old shirt, and on his feet, while he leaned against the door-jamb, +a drooping, shaking, broken-hearted little figure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't git along without her!" he whispered. "I +can't stand it! Oh, I want her back! I want her back!"</p> + +<p>When he had cried away the sharp edge of his grief, a +deliciously sad mood came over him. In <i>The Legends of +King Arthur</i>, more than one grieving person had succumbed +to sorrow. He wondered if he would die of his; +and he saw himself laid out, stricken, on a barge, attended +by three Queens, who were putting to sea to take him to +the Vale of Avilion.</p> + +<p>The picture brought him peace.</p> + +<p>There followed one of his thinks. He brought Cis back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376"></a><a href="images/376.png">[376]</a></span> +into the little room, seated her on her narrow bed, with +her slender shoulders leaned against the excelsior pillow +which once she had prized. In her best dress, which was +white, she showed ghostily among the shadows. But he +could see her violet eyes clearly, and the look in them was +tender and loving.</p> + +<p>He held out his arms to her.</p> + +<p>Somewhere, far off, a bell rang. It was like a summons. +The wraith of his own making vanished. He wiped his +eyes, now with one fringed sleeve, now with the other, +stooped and felt round just inside the little room for his +scrap of mattress and the quilt, took them up, softly +shut the door, and turned about.</p> + +<p>That same moment the hall door began slowly to open, +propelled from without by an unseen hand. "St!" came +a low warning. Next, a dim hand showed itself, reaching +in at the floor level with a large yellow bowl. It placed +the bowl to one side, disappeared, returned again at once +with a goodish chunk of <i>schwarzbrod</i>, laid the bread beside +the bowl, traveled up to the outside knob, and drew the +door to.</p> + +<p>He knew that the dim hand was plump and brown, and +that it belonged to the little Jewish lady, who never yet +had been forgetful of him, who was always prompt with +motherly help. He knew that; and yet, as he watched it +all, there was something of a sweet mystery about it, and +he was reminded of that wonderful arm, clothed in white +samite, which had come thrusting up out of the lake to +give the sword Excalibur to great King Arthur.</p> + +<p>He did not go to get what had been left (noodles, he +guessed, tastily thickening a broth). Grandpa was already +fed for the night, and asleep in the wheel chair, where +Johnnie intended to leave him, not liking to rap on the +bedroom door and disturb Big Tom. As for his own +appetite, it seemed to have deserted him forever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377"></a><a href="images/377.png">[377]</a></span></p> + +<p>Noiselessly he put down his bedding beside the table. +And it was then that he made out, by the faint light coming +in at the window, the two dolls, Letitia and Edwarda, huddled +together on the oilcloth. Letitia, small, old, worn +out in long service to her departed mistress, had one sawdust +arm thrown across Edwarda. And Edwarda, proud +though she was, and beautiful in her silks and laces, had +a smooth, round, artfully jointed arm thrown across +Letitia. It was as if each was comforting the other!</p> + +<p>Johnnie picked up the old doll. Somehow she seemed +closer and dearer to him than the new one. Perhaps—who +knew?—she, also, was mourning the absent beloved. (If +there was any feeling in her, she had been inconsolable this +long time, what with being cast aside for a grander rival.) +"Well, Letitia," he whispered, "here we are, you and—and +me!"</p> + +<p>It was growing dark in the kitchen. Besides, no one was +there to mark his weakness and taunt him with it. He +put his face against faithful Letitia's faded dress—that +dress which Cis herself had made, pricking her pink fingers +scandalously in the process, and had washed and ironed +season after season. That was it! He loved the old doll +the better because she was a part of Cis.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Letitia!" he whispered again, and strained +the doll to his heart.</p> + +<p>Then he took up Edwarda, who opened her eyes with a +sharp click. Edwarda, favorite of her young owner, +smelled adorably—like the tiny room, like the birthday +roses, like apples. And her dainty presence, exhaling the +familiar scent of the dressing-table box, brought Cis even +nearer to him than had Letitia. With a choking exclamation, +he caught the new doll to him along with the old, and +held both tight.</p> + +<p>Then dropping to the mattress, he laid the pair side by +side before crumpling down with them, digging his nose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378"></a><a href="images/378.png">[378]</a></span> +into one of Edwarda's fragrant sleeves. The instant her +head struck the bed, Edwarda had clicked her eyes shut, +as if quite indifferent to all that had happened that day +(not to speak of the previous night), and had fallen asleep +like a shot. Not so the sterling Letitia, who lay staring, +open-eyed, at the ceiling.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie, worn with emotion, weak from yesterday's +whipping, sick and weary from last night's long hours +across the table edge, sank into a deep and merciful and +repairing sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379"></a><a href="images/379.png">[379]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>UPS AND DOWNS</h3> + + +<p class="cap">HE awoke a changed boy. How it had come about, +or why, he did not try to reason; but on opening +his gray eyes at dawn, he felt distinctly two +astonishing differences in himself: first, his sorrow over +Cis's going seemed entirely spent, as if it had taken leave +of him some time in the night; second, and more curious +than the other, along with that sorrow had evidently departed +all of his old fear of Big Tom!</p> + +<p>The fact that Johnnie no longer stood in dread of +Barber was, doubtless, due to the fact that he had seen +the giant outmatched and brought to terms. He hated +him still (perhaps even more than ever); yet holding him +in contempt, did not indulge in a single revenge think. He +understood that, with Cis away, the longshoreman needed +him as he had never needed him before. So Barber would +not dare to be ugly or cruel again, lest he lose Johnnie too. +"If I followed Cis where'd he be?" the boy asked himself. +"Huh! He better be careful!"</p> + +<p>As to Cis, now that he had had a good rest, it was +easy for him to see that this change which had come into +her life was a thing to be grateful for, not a matter to +be mourned about. After her trouble with Barber, she +could not stay on in the flat and be happy. Granting this, +how fortunate it was that she could at once marry the man +she loved. (And what a man!)</p> + +<p>He saw her in that splendid, imaginary apartment in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380"></a><a href="images/380.png">[380]</a></span> +which he had long ago installed Mr. Perkins. And was +he, John Blake, wishing that she would stay in a tiny, +if beautiful, room without a window?</p> + +<p>"Aw, shucks, no!" he cried. "I don't want y' back! I +miss y', but I'm <i>awful</i> glad y'r gone! And I don't mind +bein' left here."</p> + +<p>He felt hopeful, ambitious, independent.</p> + +<p>He rose with a will. He was stiff, just at first, but +strong and steady on his feet. As in the past he had never +made a habit of pitying himself, he did not pity himself +now, but took his aches and pains as he had taken them +many a time before, that is, by dismissing them from his +mind. He was hungry. He was eager for his daily wash. +He wanted to get at his morning exercises, and take with +them a whiff of the outdoors coming in at the window. +By a glance at his patch of sky he could tell that this +whiff would be pleasant. For how clear and blue was +that bit of Heaven which he counted as a personal belonging! +And just across the area the sun was already beginning +to wash all the roofs with its aureate light.</p> + +<p>Three sparrows hailed him from the window ledge, shrilly +demanding crumbs. Crumbs made him think of Mrs. +Kukor's stealthy gift. Sure enough, the yellow bowl held +soup. In the soup was spaghetti—the wide, ribbony, slippery +kind he especially liked, coiled about in a broth which +smelled deliciously of garlic. As for the black bread, +some nibbling visitor of the night had helped himself to +one corner of it, and this corner, therefore, went at once +to the birds.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" soliloquized Johnnie. "How the mice +do love Mrs. Kukor's bread!" And he could not blame +them. It <i>was</i> so good!</p> + +<p>Then, a trifle startled, he noted that the wheel chair +was not in the kitchen; but guessed at once that Barber had +quietly rolled Grandpa into the bedroom at a late hour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381"></a><a href="images/381.png">[381]</a></span> +Next, his roving glance dropped back to the old mattress, +and he caught sight of the dolls. Forgetting what a comfort +they had been to him the evening before, this while +feeling boyishly ashamed and foolish at having had them +with him, in a panic he caught them up and flung them, +willy-nilly, out of sight upon Cis's couch; after which, looking +sheepish, and wondering if Big Tom had, by any +chance, seen them, he put away his bedding, filled the teakettle, +and reached down the package of oatmeal.</p> + +<p>It was not till he started to build a fire that he remembered! +In the fire box still was all that remained of his +uniform, his books, and the Carnegie medal. He lifted a +stove lid; then as a mourner looks down into a grave +that has received a dear one, so, for a long, sad moment, +he gazed into the ashes. "Oh, my stories!" he faltered. +"Oh, my peachy suit o' clothes!"</p> + +<p>But it was the medal he hunted. On pressing the ashes +through into the ash-box, something fell with a clear +tinkle, and he dug round till he found a burned and blackened +disk. Fire had harmed it woefully. That side bearing +the face of its donor was roughened and scarred, so +that no likeness of Mr. Carnegie survived; but on the +other side, near to the rim, several words still stood out +clearly—<i>that a man lay down his life for his friends</i>.</p> + +<p>After more poking around he found all the metal buttons +off the uniform, each showing the scout device, for, +being small, the buttons had dropped into the ashes directly +their hold upon the cloth was loosened by the flames, +and so escaped serious damage. Also, following a more +careful search, he discovered—the tooth.</p> + +<p>The clock alarm rang, and he surmised that Big Tom +had wound it when he came out for Grandpa.</p> + +<p>"John!"</p> + +<p>Somehow that splintered bit of Barber's tusk made +Johnnie feel more independent than ever. With it between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382"></a><a href="images/382.png">[382]</a></span> +a thumb and finger, he dared be so indifferent to the summons +that he did not reply at once. Instead, he took the +buttons to the sink and rinsed them; rinsed the tooth, too. +Then he put the medal into the shallow dish holding the +dead rose leaves, filled a cracked coffee cup with the buttons, +and tossed the tooth into the drawer of the kitchen +table.</p> + +<p>"John!"—an anxious John this time, as if the longshoreman +half feared the boy was gone.</p> + +<p>"I'm up."</p> + +<p>"Wish y'd come here."</p> + +<p>Johnnie smiled grimly as he went. That "wish" was +new! Always heretofore it had been "You do this" and +"You do that." Evidently something of a change had +also been wrought in Big Tom! The bedroom door was +ajar an inch or two. Through the narrow crack Johnnie +glimpsed Grandpa, in his chair, ready to be trundled out. +But Barber was lying down, his face half turned away.</p> + +<p>"Wheel the old man into the kitchen," said the latter +as he heard Johnnie. He spoke with a lisp (that tooth!), +and his voice sounded weak. "And then bring me somethin' +t' eat, will y'?"</p> + +<p>Having said Yes without a Sir, Johnnie wagged his +head philosophically, the while he steered the chair skilfully +across the sill. "Plenty o' good turns t' do now," +he told himself; "and all o' 'em for <i>him!</i>"</p> + +<p>But—a scout is faithful. He built the fire and cooked +a tasty meal—toast, with the grease of bacon trimmings +soaking it, coffee, and rolled oats—and placed it on Grandpa's +bed, handy to the longshoreman. Then he shut the +bedroom door smartly, as a signal that Big Tom was to +have privacy, and returned to his own program.</p> + +<p>He scampered downstairs for Grandpa's milk and his +own, taking time to exchange a grin with the janitress, to +whom Barber's defeat of yesterday was no grief. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383"></a><a href="images/383.png">[383]</a></span> +back he raced, washed, combed and fed the little, old soldier, +helping him to think the gruel a "swell puddin'," and +the service Buckle's best. After that there was a short +trip to Madison Square Garden where, despite all facts +to the contrary, a colossal circus had moved in. Johnnie +summoned lions before the wheel chair, and tigers, camels, +Arab steeds and elephants, Cis's room serving admirably +as the cage which contained these various quadrupeds. +And, naturally, there was a deal of growling and roaring +and kicking and neighing, while the camels barked surprisingly +like Boof, and the elephants conversed with something +of a Hebrew accent. All of which greatly delighted +Grandpa, and he cackled till his scraggly beard was damp +with happy tears.</p> + +<p>When he was asleep there was sweeping to do (with wet, +scattered tea leaves, and a broom drenched frequently at +Niagara falls, all this to help keep down the dust). A +few dishes of massy gold needed washing, too. The stove—that +iron urn holding precious dust—called for the polishing +rag. Of all these duties Johnnie made quick work.</p> + +<p>Then, without a thought that Big Tom might come +forth, see, and seeing, disapprove, Johnnie switched to +the floor that square of oilcloth which so often covered the +Table Round, rolled the wash-tub into place at the cloth's +center, and partly filled it. At once there followed such +a soaping and scrubbing, such a splashing and rinsing! +Whenever the cold water struck a sore spot there were +gasps and ouches.</p> + +<p>A close attention to details was not lacking. Ears +were not forgotten, nor the areas behind them; nor was +the neck (all the way around); nor were such soil-gathering +spots as knee-knobs and elbow-points; nor even the +black-and-blue streaks across an earnest face. And presently, +the drying process over, and Cis's old toothbrush<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384"></a><a href="images/384.png">[384]</a></span> +laid away, a pink and glowing body was bending and +twisting close to the window, and shooting out its limbs.</p> + +<p>When Johnnie was dressed, and stood, clean and combed +and straight on his pins, his chest heaving as he glanced +around a kitchen which was shipshape, and upon his aged +friend, who was as presentable as possible, it occurred to +him that when a caller happened in this morning—Mrs. +Kukor, Father Pat, or Cis; or when he, himself, fetched +King Arthur, or Mr. Roosevelt, or Robinson Crusoe, no +excuses of any kind would have to be made. He and his +house were in order.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kukor. So far he had not noticed a sound from +overhead. When the brown shoes were on, he rapped an +I'm-coming-up signal on the sink pipe. There was no +answer. He rapped it again, and louder, watching the +clock this time, in order to give the little Jewish lady a +full minute to rise from her rocking chair. But she did +not rise; and no steps went doll-walking across the ceiling. +At this early hour could Mrs. Kukor be out? He went up.</p> + +<p>Another surprise. Another change. Another blow. At +her door was her morning paper, with its queer lettering; +on the door, pinned low, was what looked like a note. Feeling +sure that it had been left for him, Johnnie carried it +half-way to the roof to get a light on its message, which +was sorry news indeed:</p> + +<p><i>Der Jony my rebeka has so bad sicknus i needs to go by +hir love Leah Kukor.</i></p> + +<p>He was so pained by the explanation, so saddened to +learn that his devoted friend would be gone all day, that he +descended absentmindedly to the flat directly below Barber's, +where he walked in unceremoniously upon nine Italians +of assorted sizes—the Fossis, all swarmed about their +breakfast in a smoke-filled room.</p> + +<p>With a hasty excuse, he darted out; then, his heart as +lead, climbed home. Poor Mrs. Kukor! Poor daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385"></a><a href="images/385.png">[385]</a></span> +Rebecca! Poor baby, whose mamma had a "bad sicknus!" +And, yes, poor husband, Mr. Reisenberger!—even though +he was "awful rich."</p> + +<p>The broom had swept from under the stove those lengths +of clothesline. With more philosophical wags of the head, +Johnnie fastened them end to end with weaver's knots, and +rehung the rope, knowing as he worked that he could never +again bear to telephone along that mended line.</p> + +<p>"Gee! Barber spoils ev'rything!" he declared.</p> + +<p>After the rope was up he felt weak. He sat down at +the table, thin legs curled round the rungs of the kitchen +chair, clean elbows on the restored oilcloth, a big fist propping +each cheek; and presently found himself listening, +waiting, his eyes on the hall door. At every noise, he gave +a start, and hope added its shine to that other shine which +soap had left on his face.</p> + +<p>And so the long morning passed. Shortly after noon, +he carried dinner in to Big Tom, and took away the breakfast +dishes. Grandpa went as far as the door with him, +and opened grave, baby eyes at sight of his prostrate son. +"Oh, Tommie sick!" he whispered, frightened. "Poor +Tommie sick!"</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" growled "poor Tommie," roughly, and +Grandpa backed off quickly, with soft tap-taps.</p> + +<p>"Maybe y' better have a doctor," essayed Johnnie, +practically, and as calmly as he might have said it to Cis.</p> + +<p>"You mind your business."</p> + +<p>The afternoon was longer than the morning. Johnnie +sat at the table again. His face was hot, and he kept a +dipper of water in front of him so that he could take +frequent draughts. Sometimes he watched his patch of +sky; sometimes he shut his eyes and read from the burned +books, or looked at their pictures; now and then he slept—a +few minutes at a time—his head on his arms.</p> + +<p>Toward evening, though rested physically, he found his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386"></a><a href="images/386.png">[386]</a></span> +spirits again drooping. Bravely as he had started the +day, its hours of futile waiting had tried him. (Could it +be possible that grief was a matter of the clock?) As +twilight once more moved upon the city it brought with it +the misery, the loneliness and the pain which had been his +just twenty-four hours before. Oh, where, he asked himself, +was the light step, the tender voice, the helpful hand +of her who had hurried home to him every nightfall of the +past?</p> + +<p>He understood then what a difference there could be +between bodily suffering and mental suffering. His whipping, +severe as it had been, was over and done, and all but +forgotten. But this sorrow—! "Gee!" he breathed, marveling; +"how it sticks!"</p> + +<p>No; he had not realized when Cis left how hard it would +be to stay on at the flat without her. And ahead of him +were how many days like this one? He seemed there to +stay for a time that was all but forever!</p> + +<p>That night it was Boof who shared the mattress with +him. He whispered to the dog for a long while, recounting +his troubles. Afterward, he said over the tenth law, that +one having to do with bravery. "Defeat does not down +him" the Handbook had said; and he was not downed. He +thought of every valiant soul he knew—Aladdin, Heywood, +Uncas, Jim Hawkins, Lancelot, Crusoe. He fought the +tears. But he felt utterly stricken, wholly deserted.</p> + +<p>—By all save Polaris, now risen above the roofs. "Oh, +you can see ev'rything!" Johnnie said to the star, enviously. +"So, please, where is Father Pat?"</p> + +<p>But Polaris only stared back at him. Bright and hard, +calm and unchanging, what difference did it make to so +proud a beacon—the woe of one small boy?</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Joy cometh with the morning. This time Joy wore the +disguise of a cowboy who had a black eye, a bag of apples,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387"></a><a href="images/387.png">[387]</a></span> +a newspaper, and two cigars. Also he carried a couple +of businesslike packages, large ones, well wrapped in thick +brown paper and wound with heavy string.</p> + +<p>The excitement and happiness that One-Eye roused +when he shuffled in came very nearly being the end of +Johnnie, who could not believe his own eyes, but had to +take hold of a shaggy trouser leg in order to convince +himself that this was a real visitor and not just a think.</p> + +<p>The Westerner appeared to have changed his mind about +Big Tom in much the same way that Johnnie had changed +his (and, doubtless, for the same reason). Dropping all +of his packages, and fishing the cigars from a top vest-pocket, +he stalked boldly into the bedroom. "Say!" he +began, "here's a couple o' flora dee rope. Smoke you' +blamed haid off!" Then, as Barber, grunting, reached +a grateful hand for the gift, "An', say! I've brung the +kid some more of all what y' burned up. So tell me—right +now—if y' got any objections."</p> + +<p>"No-o-o-o!"—crossly.</p> + +<p>"If y' have, spit 'em out!"</p> + +<p>"Gimme a match!"</p> + +<p>It was a victory!</p> + +<p>"That feller's lost his face!" One-Eye confided to +Johnnie when the bedroom door was shut. He winked +emphatically with that darkly colored good eye.</p> + +<p>"L—lost his face?" cried Johnnie, aghast. "What y' +mean, One-Eye? But he had it this mornin'! I <i>saw</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"Aw, y' little jay-hawk!" returned the cowboy, fondly.</p> + +<p>Then, excitement! In a short space of time which the +Westerner described as "two shakes o' a lamb's tail," +Johnnie was garbed from hat to leggings in a brand-new +scout uniform, and was gloating and gurgling over another +<i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, another <i>Treasure Island</i>, another <i>Last +of the Mohicans</i>, another <i>Legends of King Arthur</i>, and +another <i>Aladdin</i>. Each had tinted illustrations. Each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388"></a><a href="images/388.png">[388]</a></span> +was stiff with newness, and sweet to the smell. "And the +sky-book, 'r whatever y' call it, and the scout-book, w'y, +they'll come t'morra, 'r the day after, I don't know which. —Wal, +what d' y' say?"</p> + +<p>"I say 'Thanks'—with <i>all</i> of me!" Johnnie answered, +trembling with earnestness. They shook hands solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, our books!" cried Grandpa. "Our nice, little soldier!" +To him, the cowboy's presents were those which +had gone into the stove.</p> + +<p>There was something in that newspaper for Johnnie to +read. It was a short announcement. This had in it no +element of surprise for him, since it told him nothing he +did not already know. Nevertheless, it took his breath +away. In a column headed "<i>Marriages</i>" were two lines +which read, "<i>Perkins-Way: April 18, Algernon Godfrey +Perkins to Narcissa Amy Way</i>."</p> + +<p>"It's so!" murmured Johnnie, awed. "They're both +married!" Seeing it in print like that, the truth was +clinched, being given, not only a certainty, but a dignity +and a finality only to be conveyed by type. "One-Eye, +it's <i>so!</i>"</p> + +<p>One-Eye 'lowed it was.</p> + +<p>"And, my goodness!" Johnnie added. "Think o' Cis +havin' her name in the paper!"</p> + +<p>They sat for a while without speaking. Grandpa, having +been generously supplied by the cowboy with scraped +apple, slept as sleeps a fed baby. Johnnie stacked and restacked +his five books, caressing them, drawing in the +fragrance of their leaves. One-Eye studied the floor and +jiggled a foot.</p> + +<p>"Sonny," he said presently (it was plain that he had +something on his mind); "y' won't feel too down-in-the-mouth +if I tell y'—tell y'—er—aw—" The spurred foot +stopped jiggling.</p> + +<p>"What? Oh, One-Eye, y're not goin' away right off?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389"></a><a href="images/389.png">[389]</a></span></p> + +<p>"T'night."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"But, shucks, I'll be sailin' back East again in no time! +These Noo York big-bugs is jes' yelpin' constant fer my +polo ponies."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad." But there was a shadow now upon a countenance +which a moment before had been beaming. Things +were going wrong with him—everything—all at once. It +was almost as if some malign genie were working against +him. "Mrs. Kukor's away, too," he said. "And with Cis +gone—" He swallowed hard.</p> + +<p>One-Eye began to talk in a husky monotone, as if to +himself. "They's nobody else jes' like her," he declared; +"that's a cinch! She's shore the kind that comes one in a +box! Whenever I'd look at her, I'd allus think o' a angel, +'r a bird, 'r a little, bobbin' rose." He sighed, uncrossed +his shaggy knees, crossed them the other way, shifted his +quid of tobacco to the opposite cheek, and pulled down the +brim of the wide hat till it touched his leathery nose. "Such +a slim, little figger!" he added. "Such a pert, little haid! +And—and a cute face! And she was white! <i>Plumb</i> +white!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie, as he listened, understood that the cowboy was +talking of Cis—no one else. He was not mourning his own +departure, nor regretting the fact that a small, lonely boy +was to be left behind. Which gave that boy such a pang +of jealousy as helped him considerably to bear this new +blow.</p> + +<p>"Wal," went on One-Eye, philosophically, "I never was +a lucky cuss. If the sky was t' rain down green turtle +soup, yours truly 'd find himself with jes' a fork in his +pocket."</p> + +<p>What was the cowboy hinting? How had luck gone +against him, who was grown-up, and rich, and free to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390"></a><a href="images/390.png">[390]</a></span> +travel whither he desired? And, above all, what connection +was there between Cis and green turtle soup?</p> + +<p>Johnnie could not figure it out. With all his power of +imagination, there was one thing he never did understand—the +truth concerning One-Eye's feeling toward a certain +young lady.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391"></a><a href="images/391.png">[391]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER GOOD-BY</h3> + + +<p class="cap">JOHNNIE could hear a fumbling outside in the hall, +as if some one was going slowly to and fro, brushing +a wall with gentle, uncertain hands. Cautiously he +tiptoed to his own door and listened, his heart beating a +little faster than the occasion warranted, this because he +had just been scooting about the deck of the <i>Hispaniola</i> +again with Jim Hawkins, eluding that terrible Mr. Hands; +and he was still more or less close in to the shore of +Treasure Island, rather than in New York City, and +hardly able to realize that in the gloomy, old kitchen he +was reasonably safe from a pirate's knife.</p> + +<p>The noise in the hall traveled away from the Barber +door to another on the same floor. Johnnie concluded that +the Italian janitress was giving the dark passage its annual +scrub. As he had no wish to exchange words with her, +much preferring the society of the rash, but plucky, Jim, +he stole back to the table, and once more projected himself +half the world away.</p> + +<p>Three days had passed since One-Eye's departure. +They had been quiet days. Mrs. Kukor was still gone. +Big Tom ventured forth from his self-imposed imprisonment +only late at night. Cis and Mr. Perkins, save for +a cheery greeting scribbled on a post card that pictured +the Capitol at Washington, seemed utterly to have cut +themselves off from the flat. As for Father Pat, of +course he had not forgotten Johnnie, not forsaken a +friend; nevertheless, there had been no sign of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392"></a><a href="images/392.png">[392]</a></span></p> + +<p>But having again his seven beloved books (the two +extra ones had arrived by parcel post), Johnnie had not +fretted once. What time had he for fretting? He was +either working—cooking, washing, ironing, cleaning, waiting +on the longshoreman or the aged soldier, going out +grandly in his scout uniform to fetch things from the grocer's, +smartening Grandpa's appearance or his own—or +else he was reading. And when he was reading, his world +and all of its cares dropped magically away from him, and +the clock hands fairly spun.</p> + +<p>One-Eye bidden a brave good-by, one of Johnnie's first +jobs had been the rearranging of Cis's closet room. +Though he still felt that he could not take over for his own +use the little place which was sacred to her, nevertheless +he had considered it a fit and proper spot in which to +enshrine his seven volumes. So he had set the dressing-table +box back against the wall, straightened its flounces, and +placed the books in a row upon this attractive bit of furniture, +flanking them at one end with the lamp, at the other +with the alarm clock. Then he named the tiny room the +library.</p> + +<p>The lamp was for use at night, so that he could prolong +his hours of study and enjoyment, seated on his mattress +which, folded twice, made a luxurious seat of just the right +height to command a good view of Mr. Roosevelt. The +clock, on the other hand, was for daylight use only. When +he was seated at the kitchen table, an elbow at either side +of a book, his head propped, and his spirit far away, the +clock (having been set with forethought, but wound only +one turn) sounded a soft, short tinkle for him, calling him +from Crusoe's realm, or from those northern forests +through which he followed after Heywood, or from China, +from Treasure Island, from Caerleon; and warning him it +was time to prepare Big Tom a meal.</p> + +<p>The fumbling about the hall door began again. Next,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393"></a><a href="images/393.png">[393]</a></span> +the knob was turned, slowly and uncertainly, as if by a +child. Once more cutting short that enthralling hunt for +gold, Johnnie hurried back to the door and opened it—and +looked into the beady, bright black eyes of an exceedingly +old lady.</p> + +<p>She had on a black dress which was evidently as old as +herself, for in spots it was the same rusty color as the +few faded hairs, streaked with gray, which showed from +under her ancient headshawl. In one shaking hand she +held a stout cane; in the other, a slip of paper. This latter +she offered him. And he found written on it his own name +and Barber's, also brief directions for locating the building +in the area.</p> + +<p>"What's this for?" asked Johnnie. "What d' y' want +me t' do? I can't give y' anything 'cept a cup o' tea. +I'm sorry, but I'm broke."</p> + +<p>"Mm-mm-mm-mm," mumbled the old lady; then showing +a double line of gums in a smile, she plucked at his sleeve. +"Father Mmmmm!" she said again. "Ah-ha? ah-ha? ah-ha?" +With each ah-a, she backed a step invitingly, and +nodded him to come with her.</p> + +<p>Father Mungovan! A shiver ran all down him. For +instantly he knew why she had come. Running to the +stove, he wet down the fire with some hot water out of +the teakettle, put away his book, brought out his own quilt +to cover Grandpa's knees, swiftly laid Big Tom's place at +the table, cut some bread, made the tea, then knocked on +the bedroom door to explain that supper was ready on +the oilcloth, but that he had to go out.</p> + +<p>If Barber made any reply or objection to that, Johnnie +did not hear it. "Father Mungovan's sick?" he asked the +old lady as he followed her, a step at a time, down the +three flights.</p> + +<p>"Sick," she assented, nodding the shawled head. "Ah-ha! +ah-ha! ah-ha!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394"></a><a href="images/394.png">[394]</a></span></p> + +<p>She hobbled, and even on the level sidewalk her pace +was slow. He tried to help her, but she would not have +his hand under her elbow, pulling away from him, muttering, +and pointing ahead with her stick.</p> + +<p>"Where d' we go t'?" he asked, for it was in his mind +to set off by himself at a run. However, he could not +understand what she replied; and soon gave up trying, +feeling that, after all, a boy who intended to be a scout +should not leave such a weak, aged soul behind, all alone, +but should stay to help her over the crossings. "I'm +'xac'ly like that picture in the Handbook!" he reminded +himself.</p> + +<p>But it was little assistance the old lady needed. At +every crossing she went stumping boldly forward, her +cane high in the air and shaken threateningly, while she +looked neither to the right nor the left, paying no attention +to on-coming vehicles, whether these were street-cars, motors +or teams, only warning each and all with a piping +"Ah-ha! ah-ha! ah-ha!"</p> + +<p>People smiled at her. They smiled also, and admiringly, +at the freshly uniformed, blond-haired boy scout striding +beside her, whose face, by the fading marks upon it, indicated +that lately he had accidentally bumped into something.</p> + +<p>But Johnnie saw no one, so completely were his thoughts +taken up. Of course Father Pat was sick. That was why +he had not been back to the flat. Was there, the boy +wondered, anything a scout could do for the beloved +priest? Johnnie thought of all those instructions in the +Handbook which concerned the aiding and saving of +others. "Oh, I want t' help him!" he cried, and in his +eagerness forged ahead of the old lady, whereupon she +poked him sharply with the stick.</p> + +<p>"Slow! Slow!" she ordered, breathing open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>The distance seemed endless. Johnnie began to fear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395"></a><a href="images/395.png">[395]</a></span> +that he might not reach the Father before he died. "Oh, +all that fightin' was bad for him!" he concluded regretfully. +"That's what's the matter! It wore him out! I +wish Mrs. Kukor didn't go for him! But, oh, he mustn't +die! He mustn't! He <i>mustn't!</i>"</p> + +<p>And yet that was precisely what Father Pat was about +to do. When Johnnie had climbed the steps of a brownstone +house and been admitted by a strange priest; and +between long portières had entered a high, dim room where +there was a wide, white bed, he realized the worst at once. +For even to young eyes that had never before looked upon +death, it was plain that a great, a solemn, and a strangely +terrible change had come into that revered, homely, kindly +face. Its smile was not gone—not altogether; but still +showed faintly around the big, tender Irish mouth. But, +ah, the dear, red hair was wet with mortal sweat, and lay in +thin, trailing wisps upon a brow uncommonly white.</p> + +<p>Yes, Father Pat had been right; the bridges made for +him by the elderly dentist "who needed the work" were to +outlast the necessity for them. And the big, young, broad-shouldered +soldier-priest was going out even before little, +feeble, old Grandpa!</p> + +<p>"Father Pat!" whispered the boy.</p> + +<p>The green eyes, moving more slowly than was their wont, +traveled inquiringly from place to place till they found +their object, then fixed themselves lovingly upon Johnnie's +face. Next, out stole a hand, feebly searching for another.</p> + +<p>"Little—golden—thing!"</p> + +<p>Ah, how hard he was breathing! "If I could jus' give +him <i>my</i> breath!" thought Johnnie; "'r my lungs!" He +took the searching hand, but turned his face away. There +was a small, round table beside the bed. Upon it were +some flowers in a glass, a prayer book, a rosary, a goblet +of water, a fan. Mechanically he counted the things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396"></a><a href="images/396.png">[396]</a></span>—over +and over. He was dry-eyed. He felt not the least +desire to weep. The grief he was enduring was too poignant +for tears. It was as if he had been slashed from +forehead to knees with a sword.</p> + +<p>"I'm not actin' like a scout," he thought suddenly. +And forced himself to turn again to that friend so heart-rendingly +changed. Then aloud, and striving to speak +evenly, "Father Pat, y're not goin' t' die, are y'? No, +y're not goin' t' die!"</p> + +<p>He felt his hand pressed. "Die?" repeated the Father, +and Johnnie saw that there was almost a playful glint in +the green eyes. "Shure, scout boy,"—halting with each +word—"dyin's a thing we all come t', one time or another. +Ye know, ev'ry year manny a man dies that's never died +before."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't have y' go," urged the boy. "Oh, Father +Pat, Cis, she's gone, but I can stand it, 'cause she's happy. +But you—you—<i>you</i>—!" Words failed him.</p> + +<p>"Lad dear,"—and now the Father's look was grave and +tender—"God's will be done."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I—I know. But, oh, Father Pat, promise +me that—that y' won't—<i>go far!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"—the dimming eyes suddenly swam in pity.</p> + +<p>"Jus' t' the nearest star, Father Pat! Jus' t' the nearest +star!"</p> + +<p>"Little star lover!" Then after a pause for rest, "Johnnie, +ye've loved Father Pat a good bit?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so much! So much!"</p> + +<p>"And I've loved the little poet—the dreamer! And I've +faith—in him—as I go."</p> + +<p>Johnnie knelt—yes, the same Johnnie who had always +felt so shy when any one spoke of God, or prayer, or being +religious. How natural the act of kneeling was, now +that he was face to face with this tragedy which no earthly +power could avert! It was quite as the Father had once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397"></a><a href="images/397.png">[397]</a></span> +predicted: "Ah, when the day comes, lad dear, that ye +feel bad enough, when grief fair strikes ye down, and +there's nobody can help ye but God, then ye'll understand +why men pray." Well, that day had come. Now everything +was in His hands.</p> + +<p>Yet Johnnie could not shape a prayer—could only beg +dumbly for help as he clung to Father Pat's hand, and +laid his cheek against it.</p> + +<p>It was while he was kneeling that he saw, entering between +those portières, some one dressed in white—a woman. +White she wore, too, upon the silky white of her hair. +The snowy headdress framed a face pale, but beautiful, +with the beauty that comes from service and self-sacrifice +and suffering.</p> + +<p>The instant Johnnie glimpsed that face, and looked into +the sad, brave eyes, he knew her!—knew her though she +wore no red cross upon her sleeve. Of course, among all +the souls in the great universe, she would be the one to +come now, just when he, Johnnie, needed the sight of her +to make him more staunch!</p> + +<p>He remembered how she had stood before the firing-squad, +not shrinking from her fate, not crying out in terror +of the cruel bullets. And now how poised she was, how +fearless, in this room where Death was waiting! Awe-struck, +adoring her, and scarcely daring to breathe lest +she vanish, he got slowly to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Edith Cavell!" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Edith—Cavell!" echoed Father Pat. "'Twas her dyin'—that +helped—manny——"</p> + +<p>"It's time to go," she said softly. "Tell the Father +good-by."</p> + +<p>Dutifully he turned to take that last farewell. But +now that he had the martyred nurse at his side, he determined +to endure the parting manfully. He knelt again, +and tried to smile at the face smiling back at him from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398"></a><a href="images/398.png">[398]</a></span> +pillow. He tried to speak, too, but his lips seemed stiff, for +some reason, and his tongue would not obey. But he kept +his bright head up.</p> + +<p>He heard a whisper—Father Pat was commending this +scout he loved to the mercy of a higher power. Next, he +felt himself lifted gently and guided backward from the +bed. He did not want to go. He wanted to keep on seeing, +seeing that dear face, to hold on longer to that weak hand. +"Oh, don't—don't take me!" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>The dying eyes followed, oh, how affectionately, the +small, khaki-clad figure. "God's—own—child!" breathed +the priest, and there was tender pride in the faint tones. +"God's—blessed—lad!"</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>Then the folds of the portières brushed Johnnie's shoulders, +and fell between his eyes and the wide, white bed.</p> + +<p>He had taken his last look.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He was nearly home when he discovered the letter—a +thick letter in a long envelope. It was in his hand, though +he could not remember how it came to be there. But it +was undoubtedly his, for both sides of it bore his name in +Father Pat's own handwriting: <i>John Blake</i>.</p> + +<p>He did not open it. He could not read it just yet. +Thrusting it into a coat pocket, he stumbled on. Had he +complained and cried just because Cis was to live in another +part of this same city? Had he actually thought +the loss of a suit and some books enough to feel bad and +bitter about? Was it he who had said, after Cis went, that +nothing worse could happen?</p> + +<p>Ah, how small, how trivial, all other troubles seemed as +compared to this new, strange, terrible thing—Death! +And how little, before this, he had known of genuine grief!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399"></a><a href="images/399.png">[399]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now something really grievous had happened. And it +seemed to him as if his whole world had come suddenly +tumbling down in pieces—in utter chaos—about his yellow +head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400"></a><a href="images/400.png">[400]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE LETTER</h3> + + +<p class="cap">"LAD DEAR, I was saying to myself the other day, +'Patrick Mungovan, when you go home to God, +what will you be leaving—you that haven't a red +cent to your name—to that mite of a boy, John?' 'Well,' +Patrick Mungovan answered back, 'to be truthful, I've +nothing to leave but the memory of a sweet friendship +and, maybe, a letter.'</p> + +<p>"So down I sat, and started this. Just at the beginning +of it, where it can help to ease any pain in your heart, let +me say a word about my going, for I want you to be happy +always when you're thinking of me. So believe what I +say: though we can't sit and talk together, as we have, +still we'll never be parted. No! For the reason that I'll +live on, not only in the spirit, but also in that fine brain +of yours! And whenever you'll be wanting me, you'll think +me with you, and there I'll be, never a day older, never a +bit less red-headed, or dear to your loving eyes. So! +We're friends, you and I, as long as memory lasts!</p> + +<p>"Lad dear, I called you rich once. You didn't understand +all I meant by it, and I'm going to explain myself +here. And I'll start the list of your riches with this: +though you've been shut in, and worked hard, and fed none +too well, and dressed badly, and cheated by Tom Barber +out of the smiles, and the decent words of praise, and the +consideration and politeness that's every child's honest +due—in spite of all this, I say, you've gone right on,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401"></a><a href="images/401.png">[401]</a></span> +ignoring what you couldn't help, learning what you could, +improving yourself, preserving your sense of humor (which +is the power to see what's funny in everything), and never +letting your young heart forget to sing.</p> + +<p>"'But,' you'll ask, 'how is it that not caring too much +about food and clothes may be counted as a valuable possession?' +And I'll answer, 'That man is strong, John, +whose appetite is his servant, not his master. And that +man is stronger yet if, wearing ragged, old clothes, all the +same he can keep his pride high. For "Is not the life more +than meat, and the body than raiment?" Well, that's how +it's been with you!</p> + +<p>"Some of your riches consist of things which you haven't +got—now that sounds strange, does it not? And I don't +mean the scarlet fever which you haven't, or a hair lip, or +such like. No. You're rich in not being morbid, for instance,—in +not dwelling on what's unpleasant, and ugly. +Also because you don't harbor malice and ill-will. Because +you don't fret, and sulk, and brood, all these goings-on +being a sad waste of time.</p> + +<p>"And now let's count over the riches that you've got in +your character. In the back of your Handbook, Mr. +Roosevelt, writing about boy scouts, named four qualities +for a fine lad: unselfish, gentle, strong, brave. They're +your qualities, lad dear. And you proved the last one +when you took that whipping with the ropes—ah, is a boy +poor when he's got the spunk in him? He is not! Well, +along with those four qualities I can honestly add these +others: you're grateful, you're clean (in heart and in +mouth, liking and speaking what's good), you're merciful, +you're truthful, you're ambitious, you've got decent instincts—inherited, +but a part of your riches, just the +same.</p> + +<p>"As for the way you like what helps you (and queer as +it may seem, too many boys <i>don't</i> like what helps them),<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402"></a><a href="images/402.png">[402]</a></span> +that has astonished and pleased me many a day. I remember +your telling me once that you got tired of prunes +and potatoes. And I said to you, 'Prunes are good for +you, and nothing could be better than baked potatoes,'—I +knowing how you relished them mashed! Well, after +that, never another mashed potato dared to show its eyes! +And, oh, how you did make away with the prunes!</p> + +<p>"It's the good things you've got in your character, and +the bad things that you haven't got, which explain how it +comes that you're loved the way you are—by Narcissa, +and Grandpa (ah, it's handsome, is that old soldier's love +for you! it's grand!), and Mrs. Kukor, and the Western +gentleman, and Mr. Perkins, and me! With so much love +as all that, could you ever think of yourself as poor? Now +you just couldn't!</p> + +<p>"And then consider the way you love each of us in return! +And no lad can say he's poor when he's got the +power to love in him! and the sweet sacrifice! And you +know the kind of love that all sound young hearts give to +the crippled and the helpless and the dumb. Grandpa +would say Yes to that if he could. And so would the sparrows +on the window sill!</p> + +<p>"But, of course, we'll not be forgetting that you've got +your youth, and most precious it is, and two rows of teeth +which don't need bridging! Also, you're as good-looking +as any boy ought to be, you're improving in strength, and +you're healthy. Why, there's many a millionaire who'd +give his fortune if he had that grand little tummy of yours, +which can digest the knobs off the doors!</p> + +<p>"Already—at twelve!—you've got the habit of work, +and, oh, what a blessing that habit is, and what an insurance +against Satan! And you've got the book habit, a +glorious one, since it gives you information, entertains you, +and teaches you to think, to argue things out for yourself. +Yes, it's reading which makes a lad strong in himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403"></a><a href="images/403.png">[403]</a></span> +You don't need racket, and the company of other lads, +in order to have a good time. And, John, you know how +to listen, and that's uncommon, too.</p> + +<p>"But thinking is your greatest blessing. You get your +joy, not out of what you <i>have</i>, for God in His wisdom +knows how little that is, but out of what you <i>think</i>. If +there's something you haven't, you go ahead and supply +it with your thoughts, creating beauty where there isn't +any, building a world of your own. Never before have I +met a lad who could dream as you can dream. Ah, and +what it's done for you—in that dark, dirty, little flat!</p> + +<p>"Dreams! Behind every big thing that's ever happened +was a dream! The Universe itself was first of all just an +idea in the mind of Almighty God. In His wisdom and +love He left it to man to work out other plans less grand. +And who's ever been great that didn't dream? First you +dream a thing; then you do it. Take Samuel Morse, for +instance. He had a wonderful thought. Next, with his +telegraph, he'd constructed the nerves of the world! And +there's Mr. Marconi. Not so long ago, they'd have burned +him as a gentleman witch!</p> + +<p>"Imagination! I've no doubt you've often envied Aladdin +his wonderful lamp? (They're not making so many +of those lamps these days!) But, boy dear, every lad's +got a lamp that's just as wonderful! The lamp of knowledge. +Get knowledge, John. Then—<i>rub it with your +imagination</i>.</p> + +<p>"And look at all the marvels that lie about you waiting +to help! The books, the paintings, the schools, the +churches, the universities, the music, the museums, the +right kind of plays—they're all right here in New York +City. Why, lad dear, even the shops are an education, +with their rugs, and their fine weaves, and furniture, and +crystal, and china, and all the rest of it. Think of hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404"></a><a href="images/404.png">[404]</a></span>ing +such a city just to go out and walk around in! And +you'll not cast aside a single opportunity!</p> + +<p>"So what of your future? Here! Take Father Pat's +hand, and shut your eyes, and we'll go on an Aladdin trip +together, this to see what became of certain other poor +little boys. Here's a wonderful office, and a man is sitting +at his desk. He heads one of the biggest concerns in the +world, he's cultured, and generous, and a credit to his +country. Suppose we go back with him thirty years. Oh, +look, lad! <i>He's selling newspapers!</i></p> + +<p>"We're off again. We're in a room that's lofty and +grand. And looking at a man in a solemn mantle. He's +high in our nation's counsels, he's honored, and known +by the whole world. He's a Justice of the Supreme Court +of the United States of America. Let's go back with <i>him</i> +thirty years. Dear! dear! what do we see! A poor, little, +tattered youngster who's driving home the cows!</p> + +<p>"Ah, Johnnie, lads don't get on by having things soft. +Give a lad a hundred thousand dollars, and it's likely you'll +ruin him. Let him <i>make</i> a hundred thousand, <i>honestly</i>, +and—you've got a man!</p> + +<p>"Seldom do the sons of rich men distinguish themselves. +Theodore Roosevelt did (he that said, 'Don't go around; +go over—or through'). And, yes, I recall another—that +fine gentleman who was a great electrical engineer, Peter +Cooper Hewitt. But most of the big men in this country +were <i>poor boys</i>. Having to struggle, they grew strong.</p> + +<p>"For instance, there were the Wright brothers, who +turned men into eagles! Their sister was called 'the little +schoolma'am with the crazy brothers!' Robert Burns, the +Scotch poet, was the son of a laboring man. Charles +Dickens earned money by sticking labels in a shoe-blacking +factory. William Shakespeare's father made gloves. +Benjamin Franklin was the son of a candlemaker. Daniel +Defoe, who wrote that <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> you love so much,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405"></a><a href="images/405.png">[405]</a></span> +helped his father around the butcher shop. John Bunyan +was a traveling tinker. And Christopher Columbus was +the son of a wool comber, and himself worked before the +mast.</p> + +<p>"They're gone, but their thoughts live on, as busy as +ever, whirling about us like the rain out of Heaven. Each +of them dreamed, and what they dreamed is our heritage. +When such men pass, we must have lads who can take their +places. And I believe that you are one of these lads. For +nobody can tell me that the power you have of seeing things +with your brain—things you've never seen with your eyes—won't +carry you far and high among your fellowmen. +And some day, you'll be one of the greatest in this dear +land. And it'll be told of you how you lived in the East +Side, in a scrap of a flat, where you were like a prisoner, +and took care of a weak, old soldier, and did your duty, +though it came hard, and began the dreaming of your +dreams.</p> + +<p>"Thinking about the big ones that won out against +long odds will help you—will give you the grit to carry on. +And grit makes a good, solid foundation, whether it's for +a house or a lad. And when you've accomplished the most +for yourself, then I know you'll remember that doing for +yourself is just a small part of it; the other part—the +grand part—is what you can do for your fellowmen.</p> + +<p>"There's a true saying that 'God helps them who help +themselves.' But, suppose you lived where it wasn't possible +for you to help yourself? And there are countries +just like that. But here, in the United States, you <i>can</i> +help yourself! Ah, that's a great blessing, my yellow-head! +Oh, Johnnie, was there ever a land like this one +before? Boy dear, this United States, <i>this</i> is the Land of +Aladdin!</p> + +<p>"Young friend, as I close I want to thank you for what +you've done for a smashed-up priest—gladdened his last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406"></a><a href="images/406.png">[406]</a></span> +days with the sight of a grand lad, a good scout. And +I've got just a single warning for you, and it's this: +Watch your play! For it's not by the work that a man +does that you can judge him. No; I'll tell you what a man +is like if you'll tell me <i>how he plays</i>.</p> + +<p>"One thing more: do you remember the vow the knights +used to take in the old days?—'live pure, speak true, right +wrong, follow the king.' Father Pat knows he can trust +John Blake to keep that vow. And his last wish, and his +dying prayer is, O little, little lad, that you put your trust +in God—just that, and everything else will come right for +you—put your trust in God.</p> + +<div class='right'> +"<span class="smcap">Patrick Mungovan.</span>"<br /> +</div> + +<p>Thus it ended. There the hand of that faithful friend +had stopped. But below the name, separated from it and +the body of the letter, was a short paragraph which was +a prayer:</p> + +<p>"I entreat the Saints to watch over him, to guard him +and keep him all the days of his life, and when that life is +ended, to bring him in joyful safety to the feet of Almighty +God."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407"></a><a href="images/407.png">[407]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>"THE TRUE WAY"</h3> + + +<p class="cap">JOHNNIE went through his regular duties in the flat, +but he went through them in a daze. Whenever his +work was done, he sat down. Then, his body quiet, +his brain registered sounds—a far-off voice, the slam of a +door, the creak of the stairs, whistles, bells. But his +thoughts fixed themselves upon nothing. Aimlessly they +moved from one idea to another, yet got nowhere, like chips +on currentless water. If he remembered about Father +Pat, that memory was dull—so dull that he could not recall +the Father's face; and he did not even dream about +him at night. He endured no suffering. As for his tears, +they seemed to have dried up.</p> + +<p>The truth was that, within the last week, he had had a +great deal too much to bear, and was all but prostrated +from shock. When that condition bettered, and he began +to feel again, he was nervous and jumpy. In the night, +the drip of a faucet, or the snap of a board, would set his +heart to bounding sickeningly. And, even by day, every +little while his body would shake inside that new uniform.</p> + +<p>No Father Pat left in the world! The realization came +next, and with it a suffocating sense of loss. His friend +was gone, never to return, just as Johnnie's father and +mother were gone, just as Aunt Sophie was gone. From +the cupboard shelf he took down that bowl of rose leaves, +and pondered over them. "Roses die," he told himself, +"and people die." There was an end to everything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408"></a><a href="images/408.png">[408]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A dove," Cis had told him once, "if its feathers 're all +pulled out, or it's got a lead shot in its breast, just the +same it doesn't make a sound. It stands the pain." And +that was how it was with Johnnie. He was wounded—sorely; +but with quiet resignation he bore his anguish.</p> + +<p>He began to do things outside his daily round of tasks. +This followed a second reading of the letter, a reading +which soothed and strengthened him, made him resolute, +and awakened his habit of work. His first extra proceeding +was the burning of the old, big clothes, by which +he added their ashes to ashes far dearer; his second was +the presenting of Edwarda to the little fire escape girl with +the dark hair.</p> + +<p>The new doll concealed in a pillowcase (he could not +bear to crumple and tear for his purpose that precious +marriage newspaper), he made his way to the door of the +little girl's home. "This is yours," he told her, stripping +off the case and holding out the gift. She heard him, but +looked only at Edwarda. "<i>Gratzia!</i>" she gasped, seizing +the doll in both hands. He lifted the scout hat, faced +about, and marched home.</p> + +<p>He found that he did not want to read anything but +the letter—that he could not concentrate on story or star +book. But he did not sit and tug at his hair. Action—he +fairly craved it. And continued those out-of-the-ordinary +jobs. The cupboard shelves had not been cleaned +this long time. He scrubbed them, and turned Cis's fancifully +scissored shelf-papers. He washed the chairs, including +the wheeled one.</p> + +<p>Each day, he worked till dark, then went to the roof. +There, as he walked about, taking the air, he invariably +thought about Cis. But that thought did not make him +unhappy. She did not seem farther away than the Fifth +Avenue bookstore, or Madison Square Garden. And he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409"></a><a href="images/409.png">[409]</a></span> +amused himself by trying to pick out the very roof under +which she was, among all the roofs that stretched away +and away toward the west and the north.</p> + +<p>Soon he was down in the flat again, because he was +physically tired, and ready for sleep. However, long before +dawn he was awake once more, and watching the +small, dark, ticking thing which was the clock he had formerly +hated. Now of a morning it did not tick fast enough +to suit him! When the light crept in, up he got, brushed +his teeth and his uniform, took his bath and his exercises, +dressed, and had a few minutes of outdoors across the +window sill, where he re-read his letter, and remembered +to be glad that he was living in the Land of Aladdin.</p> + +<p>After that he ate an extra large helping of prunes, and +put potatoes into the oven to bake. Then came good turns—Grandpa, +Big Tom, the sparrows, and, yes, even Letitia, +whose clothes he washed and ironed and mended. On the +heels of the good turns, work again. "Lads don't get on +by having things soft," and he would not live one soft +day.</p> + +<p>Thus, by degrees, he put together his shattered world.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, as he sat stringing beads, he heard a +familiar rap. Before he could reach the hall door, it +opened, and there stood Mr. Perkins, looking happy, yet +grave. He entered on tiptoe. He spoke low, as if not to +disturb Big Tom.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Johnnie?" holding out an eager hand.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right."</p> + +<p>"Narcissa sends her love."</p> + +<p>How modest Mr. Perkins was!—he, the strongest man, +almost, in the whole world! And how he lighted, and filled, +the room! New life and hope and interest surged into +Johnnie at the mere sight of him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins spoke of Father Pat. "We came the mo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410"></a><a href="images/410.png">[410]</a></span>ment +we heard," he explained. "The account of his death +was in the papers." He had a newspaper with him, and +spread it out upon the table. "The Father gave his life +for his country," he added proudly, "so they gave him a +military funeral. It's told about right here. Would you +like—that is, could you bear to read about it?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie could not; instead, he opened the drawer of the +table and slipped the paper out of sight along with that +other one—and the tooth.</p> + +<p>"But you'll want to wear this in mourning for him," +went on the scoutmaster. Now out of a pocket he took a +wide, black, gauzy band. "On your left sleeve, Johnnie." +And he pinned the band in place.</p> + +<p>It was Johnnie's turn to be proud. "It'll show 'em all +that he belonged t' me," he said.</p> + +<p>"He did! He did!"</p> + +<p>The letter came next. Mr. Perkins took it to the window +to read it. "I'll get you a blank book," he announced +when he came back, "and we'll paste the letter into it carefully, +so that you can keep it always. And that book +will be your best, Johnnie. Say, but that's a letter to +treasure!"</p> + +<p>"And there was somethin' else wonderful happened," +the boy declared. And told about Edith Cavell. "She +was jus' like she was alive! All in white. And white hair. +Only I couldn't see where she'd been hit by the bullets."</p> + +<p>"No, dear old fellow," returned Mr. Perkins. "That +wasn't Edith Cavell. That was the trained nurse, or +maybe a Sister of Mercy—anyhow, some one who was +waiting on the Father."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" To recall that which had moved and grieved +and shocked made Johnnie's face so white that those fading +marks showed plainly upon it. And there was a look +of pain and strain in the gray eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411"></a><a href="images/411.png">[411]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you've been alone too much," said the scoutmaster +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Still, y' remember, Robinson Crusoe, he was, +too, for a long time, but it all turned out fine for him."</p> + +<p>"Things are turning out better for you right now," asserted +Mr. Perkins. "To begin with, Narcissa and I have +worked out a plan that will make it possible for you to +leave here to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Leave?" But Johnnie did not yet comprehend what +the other meant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for good and all," added the scoutmaster. "Go +away—just as Narcissa has gone—to stay."</p> + +<p>Johnnie wavered to his feet dizzily. "Me—go," he repeated. +"Away—to <i>stay</i>." Then as the full meaning of +it swept over him, "Oh, Mister Perkins! Oh! <i>Oh!</i>" That +old, dear dream of his—to put behind him the ugly, empty, +sunless flat: the tiring, hateful, girl's work: the fear, the +mortification, the abuse, the wounded pride, and, yes, Big +Tom: to go, and stay away, never, never coming back—that +dream had suddenly come true!</p> + +<p>Leaning on the table, weak from the very excitement +and joy of it, slowly he looked around the kitchen. "My!" +he breathed. "My!"</p> + +<p>"The Carnegie money is ready for you now," Mr. Perkins +went on. "I went to Pittsburgh to see about it."</p> + +<p>"It is? Father Pat, he says in the letter that I'm rich. +But he didn't count in that Carnegie money at all."</p> + +<p>"You can go to a good school," continued the scoutmaster; +"and have the books and clothes that you need. +Before school starts, there's the country—you ought to +go into it for a few weeks, then to the seashore. Of course, +when vacation is over, Narcissa and I want you to live +with us. There's a room all ready for you.—Johnnie, +you're holding your breath! Don't! It isn't good for +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412"></a><a href="images/412.png">[412]</a></span></p> + +<p>Half-laughing, half-crying, Johnnie bent his head to +the table. "Oh, gee!" he gasped. "School! And new +books! And the country! And the beach! And then +with both of you! <i>And my own room!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And a bed—not the floor."</p> + +<p>Johnnie was seeing it all. But particularly was the +vision of his new home clear to him. "I'll take my father's +medal with me, too," he declared; "and Mister Roosevelt's +pitcher. Oh, it's goin' t' be fine! Fine! And I'll be +ready, Mister Perkins! I'll be ready earl——"</p> + +<p><i>Tap! tap! tap! tap!</i></p> + +<p>He straightened; and stood as rigid as a little statue; +and once more he held his breath. While the flushed and +happy look on his face faded—faded as did his vision +of peace and happiness and luxury. He stared wide-eyed +at Mr. Perkins, questioning him dumbly, pathetically. +Then every atom of strength began to leave him. It went +out of his ankles, under those smart and soldierly leggings; +and out of his knees. Slowly, and with a wobble, he sank +into his chair.</p> + +<p>Old Grandpa!</p> + +<p>Now another picture: the dark, little, dismal flat, locked +from the outside, deserted within; on the kitchen table, +where Big Tom's breakfast dishes are strewn about, is +the milk bottle and a cup; the beds are unmade, the sink +piled high, and circling the unswept floor wheels Grandpa, +whimpering, calling softly and pleadingly, "Johnnie! Little +Johnnie! Grandpa wants Johnnie!" And tears are +dimming the pale, old eyes, and trickling down into the +thin, white beard.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" breathed the boy. Old Grandpa forsaken! He, +so dear, so helpless! Old Grandpa, who depended upon +his Johnnie! And—what of that "kind of love that all +sound young hearts give to the crippled and the helpless?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413"></a><a href="images/413.png">[413]</a></span></p> + +<p>He began to whisper, hastily, huskily: "That time I +run away and met One-Eye, I felt pretty bad when I was +layin' awake in the horse stall—so bad I hurt, all inside +me. And in the night I 'most cried about Grandpa, and +how he was missin' me."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"And, oh, Mister Perkins, that was before I knew anything +about scouts. But, now, I am one, ain't I? And so +I got t' <i>act</i> like a scout. And a scout, would he go 'way +and leave a' old soldier? I got t' think about that." He +began to walk. Presently, he halted at the door of the +tiny room, and looked in, then came tiptoeing back. "He's +in there," he explained. "He went in t' see if Cis wasn't +home yet, and he fell asleep. He misses her a lot, and she +wasn't here much when he was awake. But that jus' +shows how he'd miss me."</p> + +<p>Before the scoutmaster could reply, Johnnie went on +again: "I'm thinkin' ahead, the same way I think my +thinks. When y're ahead, why, y' can look back, can't y'?—awful +easy! Well, I'm lookin' back, and I can see +Grandpa alone here. And it's a' awful mean thing t' see, +Mister Perkins—gee, it is! And I'd be seein' it straight +right on for the rest of my life!"</p> + +<p>"But I wouldn't have old Grandpa left alone here," +protested Mr. Perkins. "You see, there are institutions +where they take the best care of old people—trained care, +and suitable food, and the attention of first-class doctors. +In such places, many old gentlemen stay."</p> + +<p>"But Grandpa, would he know any of the other old gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"He would soon."</p> + +<p>Johnnie shook his head. "He'd feel pretty bad if he +didn't have me."</p> + +<p>"You could go to see him often."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414"></a><a href="images/414.png">[414]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He'd cry after me!" urged Johnnie. "And go 'round +and 'round in circles. Y' see, he's used t' me, and if I +was t' let him go t' that place, he'd miss me so bad he'd +die!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins looked grave. "Narcissa and I would be +only too glad to have him with us," he said, "but his son +wouldn't let us."</p> + +<p>"Big Tom wouldn't let Grandpa go away nowheres," +asserted Johnnie. "I'm sure o' that. Why, Grandpa's +the only person Big Tom cares a snap about! And if +Grandpa stays here, and Big Tom's sure t' keep him, why, +o' course, he can't stay—alone." He paused; then, "No, +he can't stay alone." Perhaps never again in all his life +would he meet a temptation so strong as this one—as hard +to resist. "My! what'll I do?" he asked. "What'll I +do?"</p> + +<p>"You must decide for yourself," said Mr. Perkins. How +he felt, Johnnie could not tell. The face of the scoutmaster +was in the shadow, and chiefly he seemed taken up +with the polishing of his <i>pince-nez</i>.</p> + +<p>"Y' know, I thank y' awful much," Johnnie declared, +"for plannin' out 'bout me goin' and—and so on."</p> + +<p>"You're as welcome as can be!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie drew those yellow brows together. "I wonder +what Mrs. Kukor would think I ought t' do," he continued. +"And—and what would Mister Roosevelt do if he was me? +And that boss of all the Boy Scouts——"</p> + +<p>"General Sir Baden-Powell."</p> + +<p>"Yes, him. What would he think about it, I wonder? +And then Edith Cavell, what would <i>she</i> say?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins went on with his polishing.</p> + +<p>"Father Pat, he said somethin' once t' me about the +way y' got t' act if y' ever want t' be happy later on, and +have folks like y'. Oh, if only the Father was alive, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415"></a><a href="images/415.png">[415]</a></span> +knew about it! But maybe he does know! but if he don't, +anyhow God does, 'cause God knows ev'rything, whether +y' want Him to or not. My! I wouldn't like t' have God +turn against me! I'd—I'd like t' please God."</p> + +<p>Still the scoutmaster was silent.</p> + +<p>"You heard about my father, didn't y', Mister Perkins?" +Johnnie asked presently. "He wouldn't be saved if +my mother couldn't be, and jus' stayed on the ice with +her, and held her fast in his arms till—till——" How +clearly he could see it all!—his father, his feet braced upon +the whirling cake, with that frailer body in his arms, drifting, +drifting, swift and sure, toward destruction, but going +to his death with a wave of the hand. His father had laid +down his life; but his son would have to lay down only a +small part of his.</p> + +<p>"It didn't take my father long t' make up <i>his</i> mind +about somethin' hard," Johnnie said proudly.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, bein' his boy, I'd like t' act as—as fine as +I can."</p> + +<p>He pressed his lips tight together. He still felt his lot +a bitter one in the flat; he still yearned to get away. But +during these last few months a change had come over him—in +his hopes, his aspirations, his thinks—a change fully +as great as the change in his outward appearance. In a +way, he had been made over, soul as well as body, that by +taking in, by a sort of soaking process, certain ideas—of +honor, duty, self-respect, unselfishness, courage, chivalry. +And whereas once his whole thought had been to go, go, go, +now he knew that those certain ideas were much more important +than going. Also, there were the Laws. One of +these came into his mind now—the first one. It came in +a line of black letters which seemed to be suspended in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416"></a><a href="images/416.png">[416]</a></span> +the air between him and Mr. Perkins: <i>A scout is trustworthy</i>.</p> + +<p>The moment he saw that line he understood what he +would do. This new-old tempting dream, he would give it +up.</p> + +<p>"Mister Perkins," he began again, "I can't go 'way and +leave old Grandpa here alone. I'm goin' t' stay with him +till he dies, jus' like my father stayed with my mother. +Yes, I must keep with Grandpa. He's a cripple, and he's +old, and—he's a baby." His jaw set resolutely.</p> + +<p>And then—having decided—what a marvelous feeling +instantly possessed him! What peace he felt! What happiness! +What triumph! He seemed even taller than usual! +And lighter on his feet! And, oh, the strength in his +backbone! in those lead-pipe legs! (Though he did not +know it, that look which was all light was on his face, while +his mouth was turned up at both ends like the ends of the +Boy Scout scroll.)</p> + +<p>"I'm not terrible bad off here no more," he went on. "I +got this suit, and my books, and One-Eye's quart o' milk. +Also, Mrs. Kukor, she'll be back 'fore long, and you'll bring +Cis home t' see me, won't y'?"</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>"Things'll be all right. Evenin's, I'm goin' t' night +school, like Mister Maloney said. And all the time, while +I'm learnin', and watchin' out for Grandpa, why, I'll be +growin' up—nobody can stop me doin' <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p><i>Tap! tap! tap! tap!</i>—the wheel chair was backing into +sight at the door of the tiny room.</p> + +<p>Johnnie began to whisper: "Don't speak 'bout Cis, will +y'? It'd make him cry."</p> + +<p>Grandpa heard the whispering. He looked round over +a shoulder, his pale eyes searching the half-dark kitchen. +"Johnnie, what's the matter?" he asked, as if fearful. +"What's the matter?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417"></a><a href="images/417.png">[417]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johnnie went to him, walking with something of a swagger. +"Nothin's the matter!" he declared stoutly. "What +y' talkin' 'bout? Ev'rything's fine! Jus' <i>fine!</i>"</p> + +<p>The frightened look went out of the peering, old eyes. +Grandpa broke into his thin, cackling laugh. "Everything's +fine!" he cried. He shook a proud head. "Everything's +fine!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie pulled the chair over the sill, this with something +of a flourish. Then, facing it about, "Here's Mister +Perkins come t' see y'," he announced, and sent the chair +rolling gayly to the middle of the room, while Grandpa +shouted as gleefully as a child, and swayed himself against +the strand of rope that held him in place.</p> + +<p>"Niaggery! Niaggery!" he begged.</p> + +<p>"Sh! sh! Mister Barber's asleep!"</p> + +<p>"Sh! sh!" echoed the old man. "Tommie's asleep! +Tommie's asleep! Tommie's asleep! That's what I always +say to mother. Tommie's asleep!"</p> + +<p>Johnnie came to the wheel chair. Then, for the first +time in all the years he had spent in the flat, the tender +love he felt for Grandpa fairly pulled his young arms +about those stooped old shoulders; and he dropped his +yellow head till it touched the white one. Tears were in +his eyes, but somehow he was not ashamed of them.</p> + +<p>Grandpa, mildly startled by the unprecedented hug, and +the feel of that tousled head against his, stared for a +moment like a surprised infant. Then out went his arms, +hunting Johnnie; and the simple old man, and the boy who +loved him past a great temptation, clung together for a +long moment.</p> + +<p>If there are occasions, as Father Pat and Mr. Perkins +had once agreed there were, when it was proper for a good +scout to cry, Johnnie now understood that there are occasions +when good scoutmasters may also give way to their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418"></a><a href="images/418.png">[418]</a></span> +feelings. For without a doubt, Mr. Perkins, grown man +and fighter though he was (and a husband to boot!), was +weeping—and grinning with all his might as he wept! It +was a proud grin. It set all his teeth to flashing, and lifted +his red-brown cheeks so high that his <i>pince-nez</i> was dislodged, +and went swinging down to tinkle merrily against +a button of his coat; and his brimming eyes were proud as +he fixed them upon Johnnie.</p> + +<p>"Great old scout!" he said.</p> + +<p>When Grandpa had had a glass of milk, and been +trundled gently to and fro a few times, Johnnie stowed +him away near the window. "He ain't much trouble, is +he?" he asked, carefully tucking the feeble old hands under +the cover. He nodded at the sleeping veteran, sunk far +down into his blanket, his white head, with its few straggling +hairs, tipped sidewise against the tangled, brown +head of Letitia.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Mr. Perkins. "And you're going to be +glad, Johnnie, when the day comes that Grandpa closes +his eyes for the last time, that you decided to do your +duty. And you'll never have anything selfish or sad or +mean to try to forget." He held out his hand and gave +Johnnie's fingers a good grip.</p> + +<p>With Mr. Perkins gone home to Cis, Johnnie stayed +beside the wheel chair. Those yellow-gray eyes were still +burning with earnestness, and the bright head, haloed by +its hair, was held high. Dusk had deepened into dark. +As he looked into the shadows by the hall door, he seemed +to see a face—his father's. A moment, and he saw the +whole figure, as if it had entered from the hall. It was +supporting that other, and more slender, figure.</p> + +<p>"I'm your son," he told them. "I'm twelve, and I know +what y' both want t' see me do. It's stick t' my job. It'll +be awful hard sometimes, and I'll hate it. But I'm goin' +t' try t' be jus' as brave as you was."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419"></a><a href="images/419.png">[419]</a></span></p> + +<p>It seemed to him that his father smiled then—a pleased, +proud smile.</p> + +<p>At that, Johnnie straightened, his heels came together, +and he brought his left arm rigidly to his side. Then he +lifted his right to his forehead—in the scout salute.</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x"></a><a href="images/x.png">[x]</a></span></p> + +<h2><b><i>Novels for Cheerful Entertainment</i></b></h2> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<h2>GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Joseph C. Lincoln</i><br /> + +<i>Author of "Shavings," "The Portygee," etc.</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>The whole family will laugh over this deliciously humorous novel, that +pictures the sunny side of small-town life, and contains love-making, +a dash of mystery, an epidemic of spook-chasing—and laughable, +lovable Galusha.</div> + + +<h2>THESE YOUNG REBELS</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Frances R. Sterrett</i><br /> + +<i>Author of "Nancy Goes to Town," "Up the Road with Sally," etc.</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>A sprightly novel that hits off to perfection the present antagonism +between the rebellious younger generation and their disapproving elders.</div> + + +<h2>PLAY THE GAME</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Ruth Comfort Mitchell</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>A happy story about American young people. The appealing qualities +of a brave young girl stand out in the strife between two young fellows, +the one by fair the other by foul means, to win her.</div> + + +<h2>IN BLESSED CYRUS</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Laura E. Richards</i><br /> + +<i>Author of "A Daughter of Jehu," etc.</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>The quaint, quiet village of Cyrus, with its whimsical villagers, is abruptly +turned topsy-turvy by the arrival in its midst of an actress, distractingly +feminine, Lila Laughter; and, at the same time, an epidemic of small-pox.</div> + + +<h2>HELEN OF THE OLD HOUSE</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Harold Bell Wright</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>Wright's greatest novel, that presents the life of industry to-day, the +laughter, the tears, the strivings of those who live about the smoky +chimneys of an American industrial town.</div> + +<div class='center'> +<b>NEW YORK D. APPLETON & COMPANY LONDON</b></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi"></a><a href="images/xi.png">[xi]</a></span></p> + +<h3><i>Splendid Books for Girls</i></h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<h2>THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Eleanor Gates</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>This famous story is full of fancy and beauty. It tells how little +Gwendolyn found the childhood happiness that she was denied as a +rich little girl.</div> + + +<h2>GEORGINA OF THE RAINBOWS</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Annie Fellows Johnston</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>Georgina is a delicate-minded, inquisitive child who has amusing fancies +and a delightful way with grownups.</div> + + +<h2>GEORGINA'S SERVICE STARS</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Annie Fellows Johnston</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>The girlhood of Georgina, when boarding school, dances, and romance +among her girl friends, culminate in her own pretty story.</div> + + +<h2>EMMY LOU'S ROAD TO GRACE</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By George Madden Martin</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>Emmy Lou might forget her prayers, spread whooping-cough, attend +the circus instead of the Sunday School picnic, yet she remained a child +who goes straight to the reader's heart.</div> + + +<h2>MARY ROSE OF MIFFLIN</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Frances R. Sterrett</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>What Mary Rose found in the way of nice folks when she came to +live in the stiff and formal city apartment house.</div> + + +<h2>MARY-'GUSTA</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By Joseph C. Lincoln</i></div> + +<div class='unindent'>A humorous and human story of a little girl who mothers her two Cape-Cod +guardians, a bachelor and a widower, in spite of all their attempts +to bring her up.</div> + +<div class='center'> +<b><i>These Are Appleton Books</i></b><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>On <a href="#Page_361">page 361</a>, a section of text was missing and replace with repeated text +from the paragraph below. The original read:</p> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"But--but--!" whispered Johnnie. What he was +Johnnie? <i>I'm</i> going with him! I'm to be Mrs. +Perkins! And--I'll be right here when Algy comes in."</p> +<p>"But--but--!" whispered Johnnie. What he was +thinking made allowance for no such charming event as</p></div> + +<p>As noted in the Transcriber's Note at that point, the first line was presumed +as far as was possible.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Rich Little Poor Boy, by Eleanor Gates + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY *** + +***** This file should be named 24663-h.htm or 24663-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/6/24663/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net and +and the Booksmiths at http://www.eBookForge.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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