CHAPTER III
PIPPIN FINDS A TRADE, "TEMP'RY"
There was a silence when Pippin finished his story. He had no more tosay. He sat erect, looking straight before him, with parted lips andshining eyes. Jacob Bailey glanced at him once or twice, and cleared histhroat as if to speak, but no words came. Again he looked his horseover, slowly and critically, as if he rather expected to see somethingout of place.
"That strap's worked a mite loose!" he muttered. "He crabs along so, youcan't keep the straps in place."
Finally he blew his nose with much deliberation, and turned toward hiscompanion. "Young man," he said, "I'd like to shake hands with you!" Heheld out a brown, knotty hand, and Pippin grasped it eagerly. "I believeevery word you say, and I thank the Lord for you. I--I'd ought to havetrusted you from the beginning, same as your face told me to, but--"
Pippin shook his head emphatically. "I couldn't ask no more than whatyou've done. I thank you, sir! I thank you much!" he cried. "You'velistened real kind and patient, and it sure has done me good, gettin'this off my chest, like; a heap of good! It has so! And how could youtell? I've seen crooks looked like--well, real holy and pious, differentfrom me as a dove from a crow, and they wasn't, but the reverse.Behooved you be careful, is what I say."
"Especially being guardian of the poor!" said Jacob Bailey. "Yes, son, Irun the Poor Farm, up to Cyrus. It's as pretty a piece of farm land asthere is in the state, and a pleasant place whatever way you take it.Now--you say you are lookin' for a trade? How about farmin'? Ever thinkof that?"
Pippin pondered. "I never had any experience farmin'," he said, "but Ilove to see things grow, and I love the smell of the earth, and likethat. I should think 'twould be a dandy trade all right."
"Well!" Jacob Bailey's eyes began to shine too. "Now, young feller, Itell you what! I--I take to you, some way of it. I don't take toeverybody right away like this; I'm some slow as a rule; but--what Iwould say is this: I'm kinder short-handed just now at the Farm, andunless you find something you like better, why, you might come and havea try at that."
"You're awful good!" cried Pippin. "Say, you are, Mr. Bailey, nomistake. I feel to thank you, sir. As if you hadn't done me good enough,lettin' me blow off steam, without this!"
"Nuff said about that!" Bailey spoke with the gruffness of a shy man."You done me good too, so call it square. Well, you think it over,that's all. No hurry! I'm there right along, and so's the Farm; andfarmin' is as good, clean, pleasant a trade as a man can find--or so Ihold, and I've farmed thirty years."
"I'll bet it is!" Pippin climbed down from the wagon, and the two menshook hands again, looking each other in the face with friendly eyes."I'll bet it is, and I wouldn't wonder a mite but I might take you upsome day, Mr. Bailey. I only want to make sure what it's meant I shoulddo, and if it is farmin' I'd be real pleased, I wouldn't wonder. Andanyway, I'll look you up some day, sir. I will, sure."
"So do! So do, son! Good luck to you, Pippin, if that's your name. Gitup, Nelson!"
Pippin returned the greetings with enthusiasm, and Jacob Bailey droveoff with many a backward wave and glance.
"Real nice man!" said Pippin. "Ain't it great meetin' up with folks likethat? Now behooves me hasten just a mite, if I'm goin' to get to Kingdombefore sundown! He said 'twas about a mile further. Hello! What's goin'on here?"
Pippin was not to get to Kingdom before sundown. He stopped short. A manwas lying beside the road, motionless, his feet in the ditch, his headon a tuft of grass: asleep, it seemed. An elderly man, gray and wizened,his face seamed with wrinkles of greed and cunning. Near him on thedusty grass lay a scissor-grinder's wheel. Pippin bent over him, looked,looked again, then knelt down in the dust.
"It's Nipper Crewe!" he said. "He's--no, he isn't! Hi, there! Crewe!Hold up! What's the matter?"
"Some kind of fit!" said Pippin. "There's no liquor in him. Here, Crewe,wake up!"
He shook the man gently: the lids quivered, opened; the bleared eyeswandered, then fixed, and recognition crept into them.
"Pippin!" he said faintly.
"That's right! It's Pippin, all right. How you feelin', Nipper?"
"What's the matter?"
"Search me!" said Pippin cheerfully. "You appear to have had a fit, orsomething. You'll come out all right."
"Where is it?"
"Where's what? Your wheel? Right handy by; I expect it dropped when youdid, but it looks to be all O.K. Took up grindin', eh? Good trade, isit?"
A cunning look crept into the dim eyes.
"Good enough. Gets you into the house, and then--" his breath failed; helay back, gasping, in Pippin's arms.
"Now wouldn't that give you a pain?" muttered Pippin. "Nipper," he saidaloud, "you're feelin' bad, ain't you? Now here we be on a good roadleadin' to a town only a mile off. There's three things to do: I cancarry you a little ways at a time till we get to a house; or we can setright here and wait till somebody comes along; or I can lay you soyou'll rest easy--as easy as you can--and go and fetch somebody. Now--"
"Don't go!" It was only a whisper, but the groping fingers caughtPippin's sleeve and held it convulsively.
"Go! Not likely, if you feel that way!" Pippin sat down cheerfully."It's nice to sit down, anyway. Say we put your head on my knee--so!That's easier? Good enough! Why, we've been--not to say pals, Nipper,but we sat side by each for a matter of a year. It's not likely I'dleave you, is it?"
The man shook his head feebly.
"I ain't comin' out!" he whispered. "I'm goin'! I'm used up, Pip!"
"Sho! What a way to talk!" Pippin glanced round him uneasily."Somebody'll be comin' along in a minute, and we'll get you into thecity, into a nice hospital--"
The man shook his head feebly, but vehemently.
"No you don't!" he said. "No more hospital in mine! They had me in one,and I shammed well till they let me out. No more of that for me! I'lldie on the road."
No one came; it was a lonely road at best, and at this twilight hour theKingdom folk were at their suppers. Impossible to leave the man, who wasevidently dying! Pippin rolled up his coat and put it under thesufferer's head. Still looking about him with keen anxious glance, hespied a tiny runnel near by, wet in it one of the two new handkerchiefsthe Warden's wife had given him, and bathed the gray face which seemedto sharpen as he watched it. He bent lower.
"Crewe! Nipper! Have you got any folks? Can I take any message?"
"No! All gone!"
"Nipper!" Pippin's voice grew eager, his face glowed. "You have got someone! You've got the Lord, and He's got you. You're goin' to Him. Ain'tthat great? Listen!"
The sick man raised himself suddenly.
"The wheel!" he said. "Take the wheel, Pippin! You was always white--Ibought it; I leave it to you--"
He was gone. Pippin laid him down gently, and covered his face with thehankerchief.
"Poor old Nipper!" he said. "But there! He's better so. He hadn't hit itoff, as you may say, Nipper hadn't. I never knew much about him, but Iknew that much. Give him a new start, some place where there's no rum,and he might do great things. Now what comes next? I expect we've justgot to wait here till somebody comes along. I couldn't leave him thisway, what say?"
Pippin sat down by the roadside. He made no pretense of regret for thedeparture of Nipper; seeing that he hadn't hit it off here, what objectin his remaining, bein' he was let to go?
"Nipper's ma, now, may have thought he was a nice kid, and no doubt doneher best by him, but if she'd had any idea how he was goin' to look an'act when he growed up, why that lady would have been discouraged, shesure would. Hark! there's somebody comin' at last!"
The disposal of poor Nipper's earthly part was a tedious business, butit was accomplished finally. Pippin followed the coffin to its restingplace as in duty bound. The authorities questioned him pretty sharply,but finally let him go with an admonition not to go sittin' round thero'ds, but get to work at something. There had been one doubtfulmoment by the roadside, when the man who picked them up (he chanced tobe
a selectman of Kingdom) asked who owned the wheel. Pippin looked athim with puzzled eyes, and fingered his file. Why not? he was sayingto himself. He knew scissor-grinding, knew it from A to Z. Why nottake hold, now, since it had dropped right into his hand, so to say?Yes, but how did he know--he, Pippin, was on the straight now,forever-and-ever-give-glory-amen, and Nipper was a crook from 'wayback. How did he know--but then again, _did_ he know? 'Twas all rightto stand straight, but no need to straighten so far you fall overbackwards! See? Mebbe this was what the Lord had in view, he wouldn'twonder!
"I expect it's mine!" he said.
The man looked him over sharply. "You expect it's yours?" he repeated."What do you mean by that?"
"It's mine, then!" said Pippin, decidedly, and laid his hand on thewheel. It was a leading, he decided. The man stood irresolute a moment,but Pippin smiled at him, and nodded assurance. "It's all right, boss!"he said. "It's mine right enough, see? And I'll see to it. What we'vegot to do now is to get this poor old guy buried, what?"
Finally, here was Pippin with a trade ready to his hand.
"Temp'ry!" he assured himself. "I don't feel that the Lord picked outscissor-grindin' for me, but while I'm lookin' about, 'twill keep thepot a-b'ilin', and while I'm grindin', I'll grind good, just watch me!"
Pippin had spent for supper and lodging one of the dollars Elder Hadleyhad given him, but he had no idea of spending the other. Sharp-set forbreakfast, he carried his wheel through the main street of Kingdom, hisquick eyes glancing from side to side, and stopped before a door bearingthe legend, "Bakery and Lunch." The window beside the door was polishedto the last point of brilliance; the loaves, rolls, pies and cakesdisplayed within were tempting enough. "This for mine!" said Pippin, andstepped in.
"Mornin'!" he said to the crisp, fresh, rosy-cheeked woman behind thecounter. "Nice mornin', ain't it?"
"It sure is!" was the reply. "What can I serve you?"
"Well! I was wonderin' if we could do a little business, you an' me. SayI sharpen your knives and you give me a mite of breakfast; how wouldthat suit?"
The woman looked him over carefully. "You a knife-grinder?" she asked.
"_And_ scissors! Wheel right outside here. I'll grind while you get thecoffee. That's straight, isn't it?"
"'Pears to be! What do you ask for a bread knife?"
"You tell me what you're in the habit of payin', and I'll ask that. I'mnew to the trade, and I aim to please. Here, sonny!" as a black-eyedurchin bobbed in from the bakery, his arms full of loaves. "Gimme yourjackknife and I'll sharpen it just for luck, so your ma'll see I meanbusiness! Sing you a song, too! Hand it over. My! that's a handsomeknife!
"'There was an old man--'"
The stroke succeeded. The jackknife brought to murderous sharpness, themistress of the bakery declared that the others could wait. Soon Pippinwas enjoying to the full what he declared a breakfast that a king wouldcry for: eggs and bacon, coffee and rolls, all excellent of their kind.
"I wonder why they _call_ it coffee over there!" he confided to hisstick. "'Cause if this is, that ain't, you see! But 'twas good as Ideserved! That's the way they look at it, I take it; and I expectthey're right. No, ma'am, not another morsel. I'm full as much obligedto you. That sure was a good meal! Now I'm ready to sharpen all theknives and scissors in the county. I'll stand my wheel close to the doorwhere it won't be in folks' way, and then just watch me!"
The baker's wife brought an apronful of knives and scissors, and Pippinset to work, blessing the Old Man, who had put him in the tool shop forsix months and made him keep the tools in order while old Grindstone waslaid up with rheumatism. Old Grindstone! Pippin wondered what his realname was. "They called him Grindstone, account of a song he used to singwhen he was grindin'. He said 'grinstone' where I say 'grindstone,' andI always maintained I had reason, because it grinds; but he thoughtotherwise, and he'd grind away--wonderful hand he was at it; in fortwenty years, and ground all the time except when laid up as he was nowand again; arson, though he says he never knew there was any one in thehouse, and anyway they was got out alive, though some damaged--well--sohe'd grind away, the old man would, and all the time he'd sing in a kindof dry, wheezy voice:
"Grin, grinstone, grin! Grin, grinstone, grin! When you're out You roam about, But it's otherwise when you're in--grin! It's otherwise when you're in! Grin! It's otherwise when you're in!"
Pippin's voice rang out round and full; his wheel turned merrily, theblades flashed in the sun. A little crowd gathered round him, watchingthe whirling wheel. Looking up, he saw some children among them. Wasthis quite the song for them? He checked himself and broke out with
"There was an old man And he was mad--"
The children clustered nearer.
"Sing another!" said a little flaxen-haired girl in a pink pinafore.
Pippin looked at her approvingly, and reflected that she was the verymoral of the "little gal," that little sister he had--or as good as had,almost! He ran over his repertory: most of the prison songs were notwhat her ma would choose--certainly not! But--there was one the cook'sboy used to sing--how did that go?
"Dum de rido! dum de rido! I had a little dog, and his name was Fido--"
"What's that?" Something seemed to speak in his heart. "Why not sing oneof the Lord's songs? Well, I _am_ a duffer! And tryin' to think of somethat would do!"
He threw back his head, and let out his voice in a shout that made thelisteners start:
"Oh, Mother dear, Jerusalem, When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall I see?"
The baker's wife came to the door and stood, wiping her eyes with herapron. The baker, flushed and floury, left his ovens and came to peerover her shoulder, open-mouthed; people appeared in the neighboringwindows and doorways, and the crowd on the sidewalk thickened silently.Pippin neither saw nor heard them; his voice poured out in waves ofsong, longing, rejoicing, triumphant.
"Thy gardens and thy goodly walks Continually are green, Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen."
"You bet they do!"
"Right through the streets with silver sound The living waters flow, And on the banks on either side The trees of life do grow."
"There, ma'am, there's your knives and scissors as good as I can do 'em,and I hope it's pretty good, to pay for that good breakfast. I surelydo."
"Good land, young man!" cried the baker's wife. "Who learned you tosing like that? Why, you'd sing the heart out of a stone statue!"
Pippin laughed joyously, eyes and teeth flashing together.
"I expect the Lord did, ma'am!" he said. "Anyhow it's His song, and youhave to sing it as good as you can, ain't that so? Don't know of a jobgoin' beggin', do you, ma'am?"
"What kind of job?"
"'Most any kind! I'm lookin' for a trade to work in with my grindin' fora spell. I'm handy, var'ous ways: make brooms, set glass, carpenter orsolder, I've done 'em all."
"Ever been in a bakery?"
"Not yet, but I'd admire to, if there was a chance."
Pippin's face kindled, and he looked eagerly from the baker's wife tothe baker himself who was considering him gravely. He was a stout,kindly-looking man; his right hand was bandaged, and he wore his arm ina sling.
"I'm in need of an extry hand myself," he said slowly, with a glance atthe bandage. "I don't know--" He looked at his wife, who noddedemphatically.
"Step inside a minute, young man! Move on, boys, if you'll be so good!You're cluttering up the whole sidewalk."
The crowd slowly dispersed, one or two neighbors lingering to questionthe good woman of the shop about the young stranger who sang sowonderfully. Who was he? Where'd he come from? Good-lookin', wasn't he?Their own knives would be none the worse for goin' over--
Inside the neat, fragrant shop, with its tempting display of coffeecakes, brown and varnished, of shapely loaves and rolls, cookies anddoughnuts, the baker questioned Pippin. At
first the questioningpromised to be brief, for when, in response to "Where do you come from?"he heard, "State Prison!" the good man shook his head resolutely.
"I guess that isn't good enough!" he said, not unkindly. "I'm sorry,young feller, for I like your looks, and you sing like a bird; but--myshop has a good name, and--"
"Hold on!" Pippin laid a hand on his arm. "I know how you feel, sir! I'dfeel the same in your place; but it would be because I didn't know. Iwon't hurt your shop, nor you! I'm _straight_! Lemme tell you!"
He told his story briefly, the baker listening with anxious, doubtfullooks.
"So you see," he ended, "I couldn't go on the crook again, not if Iwanted to, and I don't!"
Still the comfortable-looking baker shook his head. "I've heard pioustalk before," he said; "it don't always hold good. I'm afraid--" herose, as if to close the interview; Pippin rose too. His eyes rovedround the pleasant shop, and came back, meeting the baker's squarely."This is a dandy place!" he said slowly; "and you have the look of adandy person, if you'll excuse the freedom. I'd like to work for you,and--I'd hate--to think--that you wouldn't help a guy that wanted helpand wanted to work for it. I think you make a mistake; but it's yourstore, and what you say goes."
With a little bow and another regretful look around him, Pippin turnedtoward the door. A moment, and he would be gone. His hand was on thelatch.
"Hold on!" said the baker. "I didn't say positive. I'm not a hard man bynature, only--"
"I bet you ain't!" said Pippin. "That's why I say I think you make amistake--" He turned back with his smile that seemed to warm andbrighten the whole shop. "Try me, Mister! Try me a week, and see foryourself. No satisfaction, no pay, as it says on the medicine bottles.And I couldn't pinch anything off'n you now if I wanted to. I've put youwise, and you'll be on the watch, see?"
The baker laughed in spite of himself. "We'll make it a week, then!" hesaid. "But not a word to my wife of where you come from. She'stimoreous, and she wouldn't sleep a wink all night."
"Now!" said Pippin, "I wouldn't break that good lady's rest, not for allthe elegant things in this bakeshop."