CHAPTER XIX
A DIFFERENT CIS
BUT for some reason which Johnnie could not fathom, Cis suddenly beganto show a great deal of interest in the flat. Indeed, she was by way ofmaking his life miserable, what with her constant warnings andinstructions about keeping the rooms neat and clean. And she proved thather concern was genuine by continuing to rise early each day in order tohelp him with the housework.
In her own tiny closet she brought about a really magnificentimprovement. This took place mainly on Decoration Day, a day which, justbecause of its name, Johnnie regarded as particularly suitable for thehappy task in hand. Cis's ceiling and walls had never been papered (sheexplained this by pointing out that paper would only have made thelittle cubby-hole just that much smaller, and there was not even a miteof room to spare). By dint of extra violet-making, she bought a can ofpaint and a brush. Then borrowing a ladder from the janitress, she firstcleared her bedroom of its contents, and next wiped every inch ofplaster--sides and top--by means of a rag tied over the end of thebroom. After that, in her oldest dress, with her head wrapped up, shetinted her retreat, the mop-boards included, a delicate blue.
Now, however, she was far from done. The paint dry, she restored her twopieces of furniture to their rightful places. The dressing-table box sheskirted with cheesecloth dipped in blued starch; and covered the top ofit with a roll of crinkly, flower-sprinkled tissue paper. To the generaleffect, her cretonne-encased pillow gave the final touch. It wasJohnnie's opinion that the pillow was one of the most beautiful thingsin New York. When it was stood up stiffly against the wall at the end ofthe narrow bed shelf; when the picture of Colonel Roosevelt was again inits place of honor beside the bit of mirror, with the handsome Edwardaleaned negligently just beneath; and when Cis had lavished upon her bedand box the delicious scent of a whole nickel's-worth of orris root,Johnnie, wildly enthused, signaled the flat above.
"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 downto marvel over the transformation, hands uplifted, head wagging. "Don'tyou think it's fine, Mrs. Kukor? and don't it smell 'zac'ly like Mrs.Reisenberger?"
"Pos-i-tivvle!" agreed Mrs. Kukor.
Next, in her housewifely zeal, Cis started in to improve the kitchen.Keeping the ladder an extra day by special permission she climbed it towash the eight small panes of the window, after which she hung at eitherside of them a strip of the blue-tinted cheesecloth. But when Barber sawthe curtains, he called them "tomfoolery," and tore them down. Sonothing happened to the rest of the flat.
That rebuke of Barber's seemed to deflect Cis's interest from the roomsto herself. For now upon her own person she wrought improvements. Thesedid not escape Johnnie, who accepted them as a part of the generalupheaval--an upheaval which she informed him was "Spring cleaning." Eachnight before retiring she pressed her one dress, and freshened itswashable collar; she also brushed her hair a full hundred times,conscientiously counting the strokes. As for her teeth, Johnnie warnedher that she would wear out both them and the ivory-handled brush in notime, since, night and morning, she used the brush tirelessly. Also shewasted valuable hours (in his opinion) by manicuring her fingernailswhen she might better have been threading a kitchen jungle allbeast-infested.
Next, another, and the most startling change in her. She came out of herblue room one morning looking very tall, and odd. At first Johnnie didnot see what was wrong, and stared, puzzled and bewildered.
But Barber saw. "What's the idea?" he wanted to know, and none toopleasantly.
"I'm almost seventeen," Cis answered.
Almost seventeen! Johnnie looked at her closer, and discovered the thingthat 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 pinnedin a coil on the back of her head!
"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 itdown your back for another year or so."
"All the other girls have their hair up," she argued. "And I've got tohave mine out of the way."
She did not take that coil down. Yet she was by no means indifferent tothe attitude of Big Tom. Johnnie, who understood so well her everyexpression, noticed how, when the longshoreman sometimes enteredunexpectedly, Cis would go whiter than usual, as if frightened; shewould start at the mere sound of his voice, and drop whatever happenedto be in her hand.
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 seeit. 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 theclock, and wishing it were to-morrow morning. And if, giving in toJohnnie's entreaties, she consented to take part in a think, all shecared to do was bury the unhappy Cora, or watch lovely, andlove-smitten, Elaine breathe her last.
At other times she laughed as she had never laughed before in all thefive years or more that Johnnie had lived in the Barber flat; and brokeout in jolly choruses. If Big Tom came in, she did not stop singinguntil 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.
She also had dreamy spells; and if left undisturbed would sit at thewindow by the hour, her eyes on the sky, her slender hands clasped, asmile, sweet and gentle, fixing her young mouth. And Johnnie knew bythat smile that she was thinking thinks--that the kitchen was occupiedby people whom he did not see. He guessed that one of these was of Royalblood; and came to harbor hostile thoughts toward a certain youngPrince, since never before had Cis failed to share her visions withJohnnie. For the first time he found himself shut out.
Once he caught her talking out loud. "I wish," she murmured, "I wish, Iwish--"
"Who're you talkin' to?" he asked.
She started, and blushed. "Why--why, I'm talking to you," she declared.
"Well, then, what is it y' wish?" he persisted. "Go ahead. I'mlistenin'."
But it had slipped her mind, she said crossly. Yet the next moment, inan excess of regret and affection, "Oh, Johnnie, you're so dear! Sodear!" she told him, and gave him a good hug.
He worried about her not a little those days; and though from a naturaldelicacy he did not discuss her with Mr. Perkins, he did ask the leaderan anxious question: "Could a girl be hurt by pinnin' a hot wad of braidright against the back of her brain?"
Mr. Perkins looked surprised. "They all do it," he pointed out.(Evidently he did not surmise whom Johnnie had in mind.)
"But s'pose a girl ain't used to it," pressed Johnnie.
"They get used to it," assured Mr. Perkins.
But Cis got worse and worse. One day soon after this, Johnnie came uponEdwarda, face down on the blue-room floor, and in a harrowing state ofdishevelment--Edwarda, the costly, the precious, the not-to-be-touched!And when, on Cis's return, he tested her affection for the new doll byswinging it unceremoniously by one leg in Letitia fashion, "Don't breakher," Cis cautioned indifferently; "because I'm going to give her awayone of these days to some poor little girl."
He gasped. She was going to give away _His namesake_!
Then his eyes were opened, and he found out the whole sad truth--thisone Sunday afternoon. Big Tom was out, and Cis was more restless thanusual. She would not hunt in goat skins with Johnnie and Crusoe, norcapture the drifting _Hispaniola_ along with Jim Hawkins. She had notaste even for a lively massacre. And as Johnnie was equally determinedneither to bury Cora again nor float upon a death barge with the Maid ofAstolat, they compromised upon Aladdin and the Princess Buddir alBuddoor.
The occasion selected was that certain momentous visit to the bath, withAladdin and Johnnie placed behind a door in order to catch a glimpse ofthe royal lady's face as she came by. Cis was in attendance upon thePrincess, the dismantled blue cotton curtains trailing grandly behindher and gett
ing trodden upon by the Grand Vizier (in a wheel chair). Agreat crowd of ladies and slaves surrounded these celebrities as theywound through silent streets, between shops filled with silks and jewelsand luscious fruits. The air was heavy with perfume. David, Goliath andBuckle bore aloft palms with which they stirred this scented breeze.Going on before, were the four millionaires, likewise a band dispensingmusic----
It happened--even as the Princess lifted the mist of her veil to displayher sweet, pale beauty. Cis came short unexpectedly. A strange,sorrowful, and almost frightened look was in her blue eyes. She held outhelpless, trembling hands to Johnnie. "Oh, what's the use of my tryingto pretend?" she cried. "Johnnie, I can't see them any more! I can't seethem! I can't see them!"
Then, a burst of weeping. Old Grandpa also began to weep. At that Cisstumbled toward the door of her room, colliding on the way with the endof the cookstove, since one slender arm was across her eyes, and shutherself from sight. For some minutes after that the sound of her muffledsobbing came from that closet over which she had so recently beenproudly happy.
Johnnie first quieted the little old soldier by rolling him to and frobetween Albany and Pittsburgh. Then he went to stand at Cis's door,where he listened, his head bent, his heart full of tender concern. Verywisely he said nothing, asked no questions. It was not till the sobbingceased that he strove to comfort her by his loving, awkward, boyishattentions.
"Cis, can't I fetch y' a cup of nice, sugared cold tea?" he called in."'R a saucer with some hot beans?"
"Oh, no," she quavered.
Now he knew what had brought about all those differences in her; heunderstood what her grief was about. It was indeed the hair. Yet thehair was only an outward sign of the hidden tragedy--which was that,for good and all, for ever and ever, she was to be shut out from allwonderful, living, thrilling thinks.
"She's gittin' grown-up," he told himself sorrowfully.