CHAPTER XXIV
FATHER PAT
AN energetic, hot, and dust-laden wind caught at Johnnie as he came outupon the street, whipping strands of his yellow hair into his eyes andabout his ears, blowing the fringe at his knees and elbows, billowingthe big shirt till his ribs were fanned, and setting to wave gayly allthose pink rosebuds and their green leaves.
The wind did more: warm as it was, it calmed his thoughts and steadiedhis brain, so that he was able to see the whole matter of the birthdaybouquet clearly, and reach a new and better decision in regard to theflowers. Now he understood perfectly that in spite of whatever mighthappen to him when he got home, he could not sell Mr. Perkins's gift. Noboy who intended to be a scout could do such a things--then return, evenwith the large sum of one whole dollar, and expect Cis to speak to himagain. And how could he ever bear to admit such a sale to Mr. Perkins?or to One-Eye?
"I'd rather fall down and die!" he vowed. "'Cause it'd show 'em all thatI ain't gittin' made over a bit!"
But if he did not dispose of the flowers to some one, as thelongshoreman had ordered, what then? Should he turn around and gostraight back to the flat--now? He halted for a moment, thinking. To goback would, of course, mean a beating, perhaps with the buckle end ofthe strap! (A thought that made him shiver as he stood there, on a hotpave, in the summer sun.) Oh, was there not some way by which he couldkeep the bouquet and yet not suffer punishment? Suppose he gave theroses away? to the first old lady he met? and then reported to BigTom--with tears!--that a gang of boys had snatched the flowers out ofhis 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, thoughnot so long ago, before he met the scoutmaster, and read the Handbook,he would not have hesitated; indeed, he would have rejoiced in cheatingBarber, and complimented himself on thinking up such a clever story.
Suppose, however, that he were to sell the flowers for a dollar, keepthe money, and not return to the flat at all? For a moment this planseemed such a good one that he started off briskly, his look searchingthe faces of passersby. Another moment, and he came short again. Howcould he cut himself off from Mr. Perkins? For if he did, his hope ofbeing a scout, when he was twelve years old, would be gone. Also, therewas that wedding; he had set his heart on attending it, and walking thered carpet between lines of envious onlookers. No, this was no time tobe leaving the flat.
Then, a splendid idea! And he made up his mind instantly that he wouldcarry it out, so on he started, though more slowly than before. His newplan was this: He would walk, and walk, and walk, enjoying the buds allthe while, their delicate fragrance, the silken touch of their petalsagainst his chin. As he walked, he would not look at any one--just atthe scenery; so that when he returned home he could truthfully say thathe had seen no one even so much as look at the roses. No matter what anystranger might say to him, he would not stop, and then he could declarethat nobody had stopped him. Also, should a lady or gentleman hail him,asking to buy, he would not answer, and so he would be able to say thathe had not refused to sell.
He would stay out till it was late--till it was dark, and the three athome 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 asa salesman. And if he had to take a whipping, "Well, I'll yell as hard'sI can" (everybody's window was open these soft June nights) "even if Iscare Grandpa a little, and I'll make Big Tom quit quick. And anyhow I'dfeel awful for a long time if I done what _he_ wants me to, but alickin', why, it don't last."
He felt a return of pride and self-respect. On he rambled, looking atthe scenery, and particularly at the higher portions of it, this so asto avoid the eyes of passing people. Luckily for his peace of mind, hedid not know that cut flowers need water, or that they would wilt, andbe less fresh and beautiful than they were now. So, considering thecircumstances, his thoughts were cheerful, for while the coming eveningmight bring him trouble and tears, the future not so immediate promisedpraise and love and a clear conscience. "By mornin'--by this timet'-morrow, the hurt'll be over," he reflected, and then without regretshe could go in and look at Mr. Roosevelt, could face Aladdin, too, andGalahad, Jim Hawkins, Mr. Lincoln, Daniel Boone and all his otherfriends. (He had not read and studied that chapter on Chivalry withoutresults!)
Every one stared at the strange little figure in the big, ragged clotheswith a sumptuous bouquet of pink rosebuds held so high against hisbreast, under his folded arms, that only his tousled hair and his grayeyes showed. Some were curious, and swung round as he went by to lookafter him. Others smiled, for the contrast between the boy and hisarmful of blossoms was comical. A few looked severe, as if theysuspicioned that he had not come by the bouquet honestly. Now and then aboy called to him, or ran alongside. At a corner, two girls caught atone of the buds, missed it, then scampered out of reach, squealing. Hischin up, his eyes up, he ignored them all.
On and on he sauntered--west, then north. Perhaps he might go as far asthat store where New York bought all of its books. Being Sunday, ofcourse, the store would be closed. But it would be fine to have a lookin at the windows. From the book shop he would swing east again, for aglimpse of the horse palace. It might just happen that One-Eye would beback! Oh, if only----!
"Hey there!"
Somehow he knew that the call was at him. And though it was a man whowas hailing him, he pretended that he did not hear. But a whistleblew--a police whistle. Instantly he brought up. According to one ofthose twelve laws in the Handbook, a scout is obedient to "all otherduly constituted authorities," and Mr. Perkins had explained that"constituted authorities" is simply a big word way, and a nice way, ofsaying "cops." Johnnie turned about; and there was the large figure inofficial blue, from whose gray mustache a whistle was at that momentdescending.
The policeman was standing in front of a grocery store. Shoulder toshoulder with him was another man who was even larger--taller, andwider, and thicker through. About this man's dress there was somethingstrange. He had on no tie. Instead, laid neatly below the narrow line ofhis white collar was a smooth triangle of black.
Johnnie marched straight up to the two. "Yes, sir?" he said to thepatrolman. (He would have saluted if he had had a free hand.)
The patrolman stared, open-mouthed. Naturally enough he had jumped tothe conclusion, as some others had, that this boy in cast-off clotheshad not come by a valuable bouquet through purchase. He had expectedthat Johnnie, when challenged, would promptly take to his heels. Andhere----!
The gentleman who had on no tie was also staring in amaze. Externallythis boy with the roses was a guttersnipe. But--who in all his life everbefore saw a guttersnipe with eyes so lacking in cunning and roguery?eyes, clear, honest, fearless, manly? "And that bright," the gentlemandeclared, but as if he were talking only to himself, "that ye could fairlight a candle at 'em!"
Johnnie guessed that the candle-lighting eyes were his own. His earsmoved perceptibly backward and his cheeks lifted in a grin. He washimself looking into a pair that were jolly and keen and kind--andIrish. A soft straw hat shaded them; and short, flaming-red hair, whichfilled in at either side of the head between hat and ear, served toaccentuate the green that tinged their mild gray. Below the eyes was anose unmistakably pugged. Lower still, a long upper lip gave to a mouth(generous in size) that, smiling, showed itself to be full of dentalbridges made entirely of gold.
"Massy gold!" Johnnie reflected admiringly, "like the dishes Aladdin'sgot." And he made up his mind, then and there, that when he wasgrown-up, and could afford it, he would have gold bridges.
"And where d' ye think ye're goin' wid th' roses?" inquired the giant inthe blue uniform, managing a smile for this rarity among city urchins.
"No 'xact where," replied Johnnie.
"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?"
Now here was a though
t that appealed! Johnnie's eyes twinkled. "Wouldn'ty' both like t' have a smell of 'em?" he asked, and lifted the bouquettemptingly. "I was sent out to sell 'em."
Now witness a stern guardian of the peace, who but a moment ago had inhis mind the thought of "landin' a bit of a thief," leaning forward totake a breath of the flowers. "Grand," he agreed. The larger man tookoff his hat before he bent to inhale. "Dain-tee!" he cried, with anenthusiastic shake of his red head; then to a half-dozen small loitererswho were straining to hear, "There! there! Run along now, children dear!Ye're wanted at the telephone!"
"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?"
"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 abit o' rakin'!" He settled the straw hat.
"Just where d' y' live, young man?" asked the policeman.
Johnnie had guessed from the tone of the priest that a "rakin'" wassomething not altogether pleasant; had concluded, too, that it wouldfall to the lot of Big Tom. So he gave the address gladly, and as histwo new friends stepped forward, was himself ten feet away in a flash,and--going in the wrong direction!
"Here, now! Here!" called the officer after him, at once stern andsuspicious. "Don't ye be leadin' _me_ no wild goose chase!" Johnniehaving halted, the other came up to him and seized him by one bigsleeve. "Ye tell me one thing, and ye start the opp'site! How's that?"
"I guess I don't know where I am," admitted Johnnie. "Y' see, I don'tgit out much, and so I don't know my way good."
"Now, what could be honester, Clancy?" chided the bigger 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, ifye want me t' go along, or, shure, big as I am, and fat----"
"Ye're _not_ fat, Father!" denied Clancy. They were all under way now,with Johnnie in the middle.
"Well, solid then," amended the other, breathing hard. "Shure, it's methat cuts up a big piece of cloth when it comes t' clothes, which isdeceivin' enough, since I'm back from the war. For what's a man--andnever mind his size--if his lungs is gone? or goin'?"
Johnnie turned upward a troubled look. "Did y' git hurt in the war?" heasked.
"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 beenbetter, I'm thinkin', if they had. No, lad dear, they sent me over awhiff of the gas, the wind bein' right for the nasty business, and I hadthe bad taste t' swallow it."
As they fared along, Johnnie kept up a steady chatter in a manner thatwas obviously friendly and cheerful, this in order to make passersbyunderstand that his return was in the nature of another triumph, andthat he had not been arrested. As for his look and carriage, they werethose of a proud boy.
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 thecaution of his kind, the policeman did not allow Johnnie to lead theway. The latter came second in the procession, the priest toiling last,with much puffing and many a grunt.
The progress of the three being so leisurely, there was time for theinhabitants of the building to hear of the interesting pair that wereascending with Johnnie Smith, and to assemble in groups at the landings,while excited chatter wafted the dust which the visitors raised, andthe stairs creaked alarmingly.
When the Barber door was reached, the representative of the lawpaused--as if waiting for the priest to come up. In reality, standingsidewise, one ear close to a panel, he listened to what was going oninside. As Johnnie, with the bouquet waving against his breast, came toa halt at the official heels, he heard it all, too--a roar of threatsand curses, loud stamping to and fro across a squeaking floor, whilelike a sad accompaniment to a harsh tune there sounded a low, frightenedweeping.
Johnnie peered up into the policeman's face. Dark as was the hall, hecould see that Mr. Clancy's visage was stern. Father Pat was beside themnow, steadying himself by a hand on the rickety banister, while he laidthe other upon his breast as if to ease his panting. His look washorrified.
The youngest of that trio rejoiced that Big Tom was acting so badly justat this time. It meant that the "rakin'" would surely happen; and afterFather Pat had done his part, Johnnie hoped that the policeman wouldarrest the longshoreman, drag him away to prison, and perhaps even whackhim a time or two with his polished stick.
These possibilities were comforting.