CHAPTER XVII
MR. PERKINS
HE was real! He had come! In a uniform, too, and boots, and ahat!--looking, in fact, even more wonderful than he had under theElevated.
"Oh!" breathed Johnnie, so glad and proud all at once that he forgot theapron and his hair, or that the table was still strewn with thebreakfast dishes. He fell back a step. "Oh, Mister Leader!"
The young man entered, lifting his hat from his head as he came, anddisplaying short, smooth, dark hair that glistened even in that poorlylighted room. "How are you, Johnnie!" he said heartily. They shookhands.
"I'm fine!" answered Johnnie, smiling his sunniest.
"Good!" The other gave a swift glance round. And certainly he wasneither shocked nor delighted with the kitchen, for he acted as if hewas seeing the sort of place he had expected to see--until he spied thewheel chair. Then he seemed surprised, and greatly interested. He laidhis hat among the breakfast cups and crossed the room softly to lookdown at the little old man crumpled, sleeping, in the folds of themoth-eaten coat, the doll on one arm.
"Grandpa Barber," explained Johnnie, speaking low. "I took him on a longtrip down the Miss'sippi this mornin', and he's awful tired."
The young man nodded. A curious wrinkle had come between his brows, asif some thought were troubling him. Also, even his forehead was rednow. Suddenly he took out a handkerchief, turned, and walked to thewindow, where he used the handkerchief rather noisily, shaking his head.When he came about once more, and emerged from behind the square ofwhite linen, not only did he look as if he were blushing violently, buteven his eyes were a little red.
"Are you going to ask me to sit down?" he asked, smiling.
"Oh, I am! I do! Oh, what's the matter with me t'day! I forgitev'rything!"
The young man chose the morris chair.
It was then that Johnnie realized how untidy the kitchen was, rememberedthat he had not washed the old soldier's face, or his own, or got rid ofthat apron. With fumbling fingers and mounting color, he slipped theapron strings over his tangled hair. "How'd I come t' have _this_ thingon!" he exclaimed, and looked at the apron as if he had never seen itbefore.
The young man seemed not to notice either Johnnie's confusion or thesoiled badge of girlish service. "You can call me Mr. Perkins, if youlike," he said pleasantly. "And tell me--what've you been doing withyourself since I saw you?"
Again sunlight focused upon Johnnie's face. "Well, mostly," he replied,"--mostly, I been jus' waitin' for you." He seated himself on thekitchen chair.
"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 comesooner. But I've been, pretty busy--up to my ears!"
"Oh, that's all right," Johnnie assured him. "'Cause I filled in thewait 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, oranywheres else; and ev'ry night, Cis'd take you with us, callin' on theQueen, or buyin' at the stores, or goin' t' grand balls."
After that, Mr. Perkins did not have anything to say for as much as awhole minute, but sat looking earnestly at his small host, and blinkinga 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."
"Oh, you was fine! Always!" declared Johnnie, his voice breaking, he wasso emphatic. "Cis never could dance with One-Eye, and not jus' 'cause hewears spurs, neither. No, she thinks One-Eye's too homely to dance, orgo 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'sawful silly about him."
More steady looking; more blinking. "Well,--er--what did you say thelittle girl's name is?"
"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 waswastin' time, or tryin' t' be stylish, and he hates ev'rything that'sstylish--I don't know why. So round the flat, for ev'ry day, we call herCis--C-i-s."
"Well, Miss Narcissa is right about me," said Mr. Perkins. "I'm _not_ asgrand as the Prince of Wales--not by a good deal! But now suppose youtell me all about yourself, and--and the others who live here."
Johnnie did so. And since he spoke low, and evenly, Grandpa did notwake, to interrupt. At the end of an hour, Mr. Perkins knew all thatJohnnie was able to tell--about himself, his parents, his Uncle andAunt, Mike Callaghan, the policeman, and the Fifty-fifth Streetmillionaire; 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 purelyfictional), young Edward of England, that Prince's numerous silk-hattedfriends, the four millionaires, the janitress, Mrs. Reisenberger and herbaby, the flea-bitten mare, the postman, Edwarda (he showed the newdoll), then, in quick succession, his favorite friends out of his fivebooks.
Mr. Perkins listened, sitting on the small of his back, with his elbowson the arms of the morris chair, and his fingers touching. And whenJohnnie came to the end of his story (with King Arthur, and those threeQueens who kneeled around the king and sorely wept and wailed), all thevisitor said was, "Good boy! And now tell me more about your reading."
Johnnie's eyes danced. He stood up, fairly quivering with happyexcitement. Enthusiastically he explained that directly under Mr.Perkins was his oldest book, whereat Mr. Perkins got up, lifted the oldchair cushion, and discovered the telephone directory. However,astonishing as it may seem, he had one just like it, so Johnnie did notlift the big book out to show its chief points of interest. Instead, hebrought forth from Cis's closet his other treasures in binding, layingthem very choicely on the table, and handing them over one by one--thebest-looking of the lot first.
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'ttry even t' tear it up."
"That was nice of him!" asserted Mr. Perkins, as he noted the date onthe paper. "But what about school?"
"Oh, gee! I forgot all about Mister Maloney!" regretted Johnnie. Hefilled in the gap promptly, including night school, and the matter ofhis not having suitable clothes. "But when Mister Maloney heard how Ican read," he concluded, "he seen I didn't need t' go t' school the wayother kids do. Or anyhow"--remarking a curious light in thosecoffee-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!"
"Oh, I'm sure you write well," Mr. Perkins agreed. "So I'd rather you'dtalk. Tell me this: what do you eat?"
Johnnie answered, and as correctly as possible, being careful all thewhile 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 theconversation would swing round to scouts and uniforms. He even tried toswing it himself. "Mrs. Kukor says that scouts make picnics," he said,"and have awful good things t' eat."
But Mr. Perkins passed that over, hint and all. He wanted to knowwhether or not Johnnie got plenty of milk.
"Oh, the milk we buy is all for Grandpa," Johnnie protested. "A big kidlike me----"
Mr. Perkins interrupted. "I take a quart a day," he said quietly, "andI'm a bigger kid than you are; I'm twenty-one. Milk's got everything init that a man needs from one end of his life to the other. Don't forgetthat."
"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.
"And what about exercise? and baths? Out-door exercise, I mean," saidMr. Perkins.
"I hang out o' the window 'most ev'ry mornin' that I don't go afterboxes," answered Johnnie, so glad that he could give a satisfactoryaccount of the matter of fresh air. "And bathin', well, I bathed ev'ryday when I was at my Aunt Sophie's, but down here----"
"Yes?" Mr. Perkins smiled encouragement.
"We ain't got no tub," said Johnnie, "so my neck's 'bout as far as Iever git."
Then the momen
t for which he had been waiting: "And you think you'd liketo be a scout?" inquired Mr. Perkins.
"Oh, gee!" sighed Johnnie. He relaxed from sheer excess of feeling. Hishead 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!"
Mr. Perkins laughed, but it was a pleasant, promising laugh. "We'll seewhat can be done," he said briskly. "And to begin with, how old areyou?"
Johnnie opened his mouth--but held his tongue. He guessed that age hadsomething to do with being a scout. But what? Was he too old? But theboys who had marched past him were as tall as he, if not taller. Thenwas he too young? Taken unaware, he was not able quickly to decide whatthe trouble might be. But he had not lived five years at Tom Barber'swithout 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," heanswered.
"Mm!" Mr. Perkins thought that over. Presently, adjusting his glasses,he looked Johnnie up and down, while anxious swallows undulatedJohnnie's thin neck, and about his knobs of knees the long fringe of thebig trousers trembled. "But we can find out how old you are, can't we?"Mr. Perkins added, with a sudden smile.
"I guess I'm ten goin' on 'leven," capitulated Johnnie.
"Ten going on eleven! That's splendid! It's the best age to begingetting ready to be a scout! The very best!"
"Gee! I'm glad!"
"So am I! You see, it takes some time to be a scout. It'll take everyspare minute you've got to get ready. It's something that can't be donein a hurry. But here you've got more than a year to prepare yourself."
"More'n a--a _year_?"
"All scouts are twelve."
"Oh!" A shadow clouded the gray eyes.
"But a year means that you can get yourself in dandy condition. Andwould you mind showing me how fit you are now?"
Johnnie spread out his hands deprecatingly. "That's the trouble," hedeclared, looking down at his big, old clothes. "They don't fit."
But when he understood just what Mr. Perkins meant, in a twinkling hehad slipped Barber's shirt over his head and was standing bared to thewaist, all his little ribs showing pitifully, and--as he faced squareabout--his shoulder blades thrusting themselves almost through a skinthat was a sickly white. "Ain't I fine?" he wanted to know. "Don't Ilook good'n strong?"
The glasses came tumbling off Mr. Perkins's nose. He coughed, and pulledout the white handkerchief again, and fell to polishing the crystaldiscs. "Fair," he said slowly. "But there's room for improvement."
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 seea big diff'rence right away!"
"Fat isn't what a boy wants," returned Mr. Perkins. "He wants goodblood, and strong muscles, and a first-class pair of lungs!"
"Oh!" Raising the big shirt on high, Johnnie disappeared into it, fixingupon Mr. Perkins as he went a look that was full of anxiety. As heemerged, 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'tbe----"
"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 pleasedabout your reading. I certainly am, old fellow! And in no time you canget some blood into your cheeks, and cultivate some muscle, andstraighten out your lungs. Once there was a boy who was in worse shapethan you are, because he had the asthma, and could hardly breathe. Andwhat do you suppose he did?"
"Et lots?" hazarded Johnnie.
"He said he would make over his own body, and he made it over."
"But, Mister Perkins, I'll do it, too! I'll make mine over! Tell mehow!"
"Fresh air, proper breathing, exercises--day after day, that boy neverstopped. And when he grew up, he found himself a strong man even amongvery strong men. That was the great American, Theodore Roosevelt."
"Oh, I know about him!" cried Johnnie. "He was President once, and hewas a soldier. Cis knows a girl, and the girl's father, he worked in abig, stylish hotel, and once he carried Mister Roosevelt's trunk on hisown back! Cis could name the girl, and prove it!"
But Mr. Perkins had no doubt as to the truth of the account. "The mottoof the Boy Scouts is Be Prepared," he went on. "That means, be ready--inmind 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 notonly be a promise of long life for you, but you can defend yourself;better still, you can protect others."
"Yes, sir!" Johnnie was bubbling with eagerness. "Please let me startnow. Can I? What'll I do first?"
"Bathe," answered Mr. Perkins. "Every day. Scrub yourself from head tofoot. Give your skin a chance to breathe. You'll eat better and sleepbetter. You'll pick up."
One, two, three, and the dishes were cleared from the table. Then withthe hall door locked as a precaution, Johnnie spread the oiledtable-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 fromthe sink spigot, warmed the water with more from the teakettle, and tooka long-deferred, much-needed rub down. It was soapy, and thorough. Andhe proved to himself that he really liked water very much--except,perhaps, in the region of his neck and ears!
When he was rinsed and rubbed dry, and in his clothes again, Mr. Perkinstook off his own coat. Under it was a khaki-colored shirt, smart andclean and soldierly, that seemed to Johnnie the kind of shirt most to bedesired among all the shirts of the world. Mr. Perkins pushed up thesleeves of it, planted his feet squarely, and fell to shooting his armsup and out, and bending his solid figure this way and that. Next, healternately thrust out his legs. And Johnnie followed suit--till bothwere breathless and perspiring.
"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 youa lesson in saluting."
It was then that Grandpa wakened. And perhaps something about the lessonstirred those old memories of his, for he insisted upon saluting too,and tossed poor Letitia aside in his excitement, and called Mr. Perkins"General."
When the latter was gone, with no pat on the head for Johnnie, but agenuine man-to-man hand shake, and a promise of his return soon, theboy, for the first time in his short life, took stock of the conditionof his own body. Slipping out of the big shirt once more, and borrowingCis's mirror, he contrived, by skewing his head around, chinning firstone shoulder, then the other, to get a meager look at his back. Heappraised his spindling arms and legs. He thumped his flat chest.
"Gee! Mister Perkins is dead right!" he admitted soberly. "I'm tooskinny, and too thin through, and my complexion's too good." In the backof his head, always, was that dream of leaving the flat some day, neverto return. "But like I am, why, I couldn't work hard 'nough, or earngood," he told himself now, and very earnestly. "So I'll jus' go aheadand make my body over the way Mister Roosevelt did."
While he was doing his housework he stopped now and again to shoot outan arm or a leg, or to bend himself from the waist. His skin wastingling pleasantly. His eyes were bright. A new urge was upon him. Afresh interest filled his heart. His hopes were high.
Cis, when she was told that the leader had actually called, not onlybelieved the statement but shared Johnnie's enthusiasm. Realizing howmuch his training to be a scout would help him, she even tried to doaway with that certain objection of his. "Maybe they don't have girlscouts any more," she suggested.
"Aw, I don't care a snap 'bout girl scouts!" he answered. "Cis, hecalled me 'old fellow'--I like it! And he's twenty-one. And you justought t' see the shirt he wears!--not with little flowers on it, likeMike Callaghan's. And, oh, Cis, he never even s'pected that I cook, orwash, or do anything like that! And while he was here I took a bath!"
"No!" Her enthusiasm went. She was horrified. "Oh, Johnnie! Oh, my!" Shegrew pink and pale by turns. "And you so dirty!"
"Well, I did! What's the matter with y'! I wouldn't nee
d t' bathe if Iwasn't dirty!"
"Oh,"--tears of mortification swam in the violet-blue eyes--"but youwere extra dirty!"
"Oh, I don't know," returned Johnnie, refusing to get panic-stricken.
"I'd like to see your bath water," she persisted. "Where is it?"
"Gone down the sink."
"How did it look! Pretty bad? Dark? Just how?"
"Well, it looked kind of riley if you got under the soap that wasfloatin' on top," Johnnie admitted. "'Cause I give myself a dandy one!Oh, a lot of skin come off!"
"Oh, my! And did he see under the soap? And what did you use for atowel?"
Johnnie had used a pillowcase. "'Cause what else _could_ I use?" heimplored.
But Cis did not answer, for she was in tears. And she would not look upeven to see him salute.
Big Tom had his turn at being appalled--this at the supper table, whenhe observed Johnnie's appetite. "As you git bigger," pointed out Barber,"you eat more and more. So, understand me, y' got t' _make_ more--_work_more."
"Yes," agreed Johnnie, helping himself to fried mush and coffee for thethird time, and breaking open his second baked potato. But to Cis, lateron, he confided his intention to work no harder, yet to "stuff." "Ican't make myself over jus' on fresh air," he declared.
She warmly upheld his determination. Yet she flatly refused to take Mr.Perkins shopping with them, pleading that she felt ashamed.
"About what?" Johnnie asked, irritated. "About your cryin'?"
"About that bath you took," she answered. "Oh, gracious!"
He was not in the least bothered about it. And when the rest of thehousehold were asleep, he had a splendid think about himself. He wastwenty-one, and tall and strong, so that he was able to ignore Big Tom.He was well-dressed, too, and did no more girl's work. Instead, he wasthe head and front of some great, famous organization which numberedamong its members all the millionaires in New York. Just what thisorganization was all about, he did not pause to decide. But he had hisoffice in a building as large as the Grand Central Station, and waswaited upon by a man in a car-conductor's cap.
Cis had once peeped into the huge dining rooms of the Waldorf Astoria,this while walking along Fifth Avenue. She had described to Johnnie thelofty, ornate ceilings, and the rich, heavy hangings, which descriptionthereafter had furnished him with a basis whenever he transformed thekitchen for one of his grandest thinks. Upon his new office he lavished,now, a silver ceiling, velvet curtains, a marble desk and gold chairs.
The thing finished, he rose, shed his clothes, and, standing on hismattress, white and stark against the black of the stove, filled hislungs from the open window, wielded his arms, bent his torso, and kickedup his heels.
In due time, by faithfully following Mr. Perkins's instructions, hewould be plump, well-muscled, red-faced, and rounded as to chest. Thenin 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!
That night the whole world seemed to him khaki-colored. That day markedthe beginning of a new Johnnie Smith.