CHAPTER XXVII
ANOTHER GIFT
NEXT morning it was plain that the roses had brought about certaindifferences in the flat. Not that there were any blunt orders, orquarrels. Barber did not bring up the subject of Mr. Perkins and hisgift; in fact, he did not even address Cis once, though he eyed hercovertly now and again. But the good breakfast which Johnnie had risenearly to prepare was eaten in a quiet that was strained, as if a stormwere about to break. Johnnie could not keep his heart from thumpingunpleasantly. And he was limp with relief when, a moment or two afterCis took her departure, the longshoreman went scuffing out.
Then Johnnie's recovery was swift. On waking he had whisked the flowersinto Cis's room, guessing that the mere sight of them would annoyBarber. Now he fetched them out, let Grandpa enjoy a whiff of theirperfume, poured them fresh water (they held it like so many cups!), andcarried them to the window so they might breathe some outdoor air. As ithappened, that little girl with the dark hair was sitting on her fireescape. Spying her, Johnnie waved the blossoms at her, receiving inreturn a flashing smile.
He did not tarry long at the window. A scout does not fail to do a giventask; and on this summer day, with the early sky already a hotgray-blue, the task to be done was the washing. Heat or no heat, theboiler had to take its place on the stove. The soapy steam of thecooking drove out the roses's scent of course, but that did not greatlymatter so long as, every minute or so, Johnnie was able to turn from hiswashboard and enjoy their pink beauty.
By eleven o'clock he had the washing on the line. The flat wasstraightened up, too, and Grandpa was looking his best. About noon,Father Pat, coming slowly up the three flights, heard a series of slambangings coming from the direction of the Barber flat--also, sharptoot-toots, and heavy chugs. And when the priest opened the hall doorand peeped in, a conductor's bell was ding-dinging, while the empty woodbox was careening madly in the wake of the wheel chair.
"Ha-ha-a! Johnnie lad!" he hailed. "And, shure, is it a whole battery inaction that I'm seein'?"
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 offinding still another person who was ready to share it. "It's thebiggest N'York S'press!" he declared. "And we're takin' our vacationtrip!"
"Ah, little pretender!" exclaimed the Father, fondly, and with somethinglike 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 inthe headlight!"
"We been t' the Ad'rondacks," informed Johnnie, "and we got a load o'ice."
"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 notmistaken"--indicating the box.
"A casket o' wood."
"But precious, what with coal so high!"
When the priest had settled himself in the morris chair, Johnnie cameto lean close to this new friend who was both an understanding and asympathetic soul. "Want t' hear a secret?" he half whispered.
Father Pat was as mysterious as possible. "Shure, and 'tis me businesst' hear secrets," he whispered back. "And what's more, I never tell!"
"Well," confided Johnnie, "there's a lot o' my friends--Jim Hawkins, andGalahad, and Uncas, and, oh, dozens o' others--all just ready t' comein!"
"No-o-o-o!"
"Honest!"
"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 _excited_!"
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 flooroverhead. Next down into sight at the window came the basket, filled tothe top with books.
At sight of the basket, for some reason Father Pat suddenly seemedanxious; and as Johnnie drew it to the window sill, the priest priedhimself up out of the big chair. "Shure, 'tis divvlement!" hepronounced. "Yet still 'tis grand! Only keep 'em all right there, laddear, and I'll come over t' be introduced."
Proudly and impressively Johnnie proffered first his _Aladdin_. Noddingdelightedly, the Father took it. "Yes, 'tis the very same Aladdin!" hedeclared. "Ye know, I was afraid maybe the Aladdin I know and this onewere two diff'rent gentlemen. But, no!--Oh, in the beginnin' weren't yeafraid, little reader dear, that this friend o' ours would end up wrong?and be lazy and disobedient t' the last, gaddin' the streets when heought t' be helpin' his mamma?"
"But he turned out fine!" reminded Johnnie.
Now the other precious volumes had their introduction. And, "Allbread--_rale_ bread!" said the Father as he looked at them. "Not stones!No!" But he handed them back rather too quickly, according to Johnnie'sidea. However, the latter was to know why at once; for with a sharpglance toward the hall door, "Now, who d' ye think was sittin' on a stepin front o' the house as I came in--his dinner pail 'twixt his twofeet?" asked the priest. "The big ogre himself!"
"Oh!" The pipe rang to Johnnie's hurried knockings, which he repeated insuch a panic that Mrs. Kukor could be heard rocking about in excitedcircles. And it seemed minutes (though it was not half of one) beforethe basket-strings tightened and the books went jerking up to safety.Then, "My! What if he'd walked in while they was down!" Johnnieexclaimed. "And why didn't he go t' work? What's he waitin' for?"
They had the same explanation at the same moment. _Mr. Perkins!_ So whatmight not happen, down there in the area, when the longshoreman, lyingin wait for his victim, stopped the giver of bouquets?
Something besides the heat of midday made Johnnie feel very weak of asudden, so that he had to sit down. "Now, shush! shush!" comforted theFather. "Shure, and the ogre'll not be eatin' up anny scoutmaster thisday. No, no. There'll be nothin' more than a tongue-lashin', so breatheeasy, lad dear!"
"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!"
While the next hour went by, it was an anxious little figure that satopposite the priest, listening, listening--for some loud angry words outof the area, or heavy steps upon the stairs. That entrance below couldnot be seen from the window. And Johnnie could not bring himself to godown. One o'clock came and passed. But Mr. Perkins did not come. So,undoubtedly, Big Tom had seen the scoutmaster. But whatever hadhappened, all had been quiet. That was some consolation.
"It's funny about my friends," observed Johnnie at last. He shook adiscouraged head. "Some way, I never have more'n one at a time."
The Father set about cheering him up. "Ah-ha, now, and let's not worry abit more!" he urged. "Shure, and I've climbed up here this day t' ask yea question, which is: if Father Pat was t' say t' ye that he'd bring yea 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?"
Here was something to coax the mind away from concern! "Oh, my!" saidJohnnie. "_Another_ book? A _new_ one?" Getting up to think about hisanswer, he chanced to glance out of the window. And instantly he knewwhat he should like. "Oh, Father Pat!" he cried. "Has--has anybody evermade up a book about the stars?"
"The stars!" the Father cried back. "Shure, lad dear, certain gentlemencalled 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 theSun, 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 whatit's like t' have yer name tied t' the tail o' a comet for a millionyears! Ho-ho! ho-ho! That's an honor! Ye never own the comet, still 'tisyours!"
"My! I'd like t' find a Johnnie Smith comet!" declared Johnnie. "Andafter all"--solemnly--"I think I won't try t' be President; nope, I'llbe a 'stronomer."
"Faith," rejoined the Father, the green eyes shining roguishly, "andthere's points o' resemblance 'twixt the two callin's. Both o' them, ifI ain't mistaken, are calculated t' keep a conscientious man awake o'
nights!"
"I'll be awful glad t' have a star-book," decided Johnnie. "Thank y' forit."
The priest smiled fondly at the ragged little figure silhouetted againstthe window. "Shure, and that's the book I'll be buying for ye," hepromised. "And in the crack o' a hen's thumb!"
The Father ended his visit to the building by going upstairs, which factJohnnie knew because of the walking around he could hear overhead, andthe chair scrapings. But before Father Pat left the Barber flat Johnnietold him about going up on the roof (though he did not confess that Cisknew about it, or that he had bought her silence with the toothbrush).His new friend listened without a word of blame, only looking a triflegrave. "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."
"I'll tell y'," answered Johnnie, earnestly; "I've swept off the rooftwice, good's I could, and I've swept the stairs that go up t' the roof.And once I swept this hall."
"A true scout!" pronounced the Father. "And I'm not doubtin' that ifye'd promise t' go on doin' the same, Madam'd be glad t' let ye go up.Suppose ye try the suggestion."
Johnnie promised to try.
Late that afternoon the saddest thing happened: the roses died. They hadbeen looking sick, and not at all like themselves, since beforenoontime. As Johnnie, preparing to set his supper table, lifted thequart milk bottle which held the bouquet, intending again to place it onCis's dressing-box, the flowers, with a sound that was almost like asoft sigh, showered their crumpling petals upon the oilcloth. Shocked,Johnnie set the bottle quickly down. But only seventeen bare stalks wereleft in it. The last sweet leaf had dropped.
He stood for a little looking down. The first shock past, his wholebeing became alive with protest. Oh, why should beautiful flowers everhave to die? It was wrong! And there swept over him the hatedrealization that an end comes to things. He could have wept then, but heknew that scout boys do not give way to tears. For the first time in hislife he was understanding something of life's prime tragedy--change.Girls grow up, dolls go out of favor, roses fade.
He could not bear to throw the petals away. Very gently he gathered themup in his two hands and put them into a shallow crockery dish, andsprinkled them with a little cool water. "Gee! What'll Cis say when shesees them!" he faltered. (How live and sturdy they had seemed such alittle while ago!)
"Cis," he told her sadly when she came in (just a moment before Big Tomreturned from work), "Blanchfleur, and Cora, and Elaine, and Gertie, andall--they fell t' pieces!"
She was not cast down by the news or the sight of the bowl. She had, shesaid, 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 waitingfor Mr. Perkins in the area, she was not surprised or concerned. In theusual evening manner, she brushed and freshened and pressed, smiling asshe worked. She seemed entirely to have forgotten all the unhappy hoursof the day before. True, she started if Barber spoke to her, and herquaint face flushed. But that was all.
"Clear grown-up!" Johnnie told himself as he put the petals out ofsight on a cupboard shelf, laying the stems beside them.
"Everything's going to be all right," she assured him when she told himgood night, "now that we've got Father Mungovan." (So that was why shewas so happy! Or was it because she was engaged? Johnnie wondered.)
In the days that followed Father Pat became a familiar figure in andabout the area building. (And this was fortunate for Johnnie, since Mr.Perkins's visits had suddenly come to an end.) Almost at any hour thepriest might be seen slowly crossing the brick pavement, or more slowlyclimbing the stairs on his way to the Barber flat. When he was not atJohnnie's, reading aloud out of the book on astronomy while Johnniethreaded beads, he might be found overhead in Mrs. Kukor's brightkitchen, resting in a rocker, a cup of tea nursed in both hands, andholding long, confidential and (to Johnnie) mysterious conversations,which the latter wished so much he might share, though he alwaysdiscouraged the wish, understanding that it was not at all polite towant to be where he was not invited.
He and the priest, of course, had their own lengthy and delightfultalks. 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, noisystreets--arched, steel bridges, swung from the summit of one tallbuilding to another like the threads of a spider's web. Each bridge wasto be lighted by electricity, and "I'll push Grandpa's wheel chair allacross the top o' N'York!" he declared.
Father Pat did not laugh at this think. On the contrary, he thought itboth practical and grand. Indeed, he laughed at none of Johnnie's ideas,and would listen in the gravest fashion as the boy described a newthink-bicycle which had arrived from Wanamaker's just thatminute--accompanied by a knife with three blades and a can opener. TheFather agreed that there were points in favor of a bicycle which took upno room in so small a flat, and required no oiling. And if Johnnie wentso far as to mount the shining leather seat of his latest purchase andcircle the kitchen table (Boof scampering alongside), the priest wouldlook on with genuine interest, though the pretend-bicycle was the samebroomstick which, on other occasions, galloped the floor as a dappledsteed of Aladdin's.
As a matter of fact, Father Pat entered into Johnnie's games like anyboy. Unblushing, he telephoned over the Barber clothesline. More thanonce, with whistles and coaxings and pats, he fed the dog! He eventhought up games of his own. "Now ye think I'm comin' in alone," he saidone morning. "That's because ye see nobody else. But, ho-ho! Whatdeceivin'! For, shure, right here in me pocket I've got a friend--Mr.Charles Dickens!"
On almost every visit he would have some such surprise. Or perhaps hewould fetch in just a bit of news. "I hear they're thinkin' o' raisin' astatoo o' Colonel Roosevelt at the Sixth Avenoo entrance to CentralPark," he told Johnnie one day. "And I'm informed it's t' be Rooseveltthe Rough Rider. Now at present the statoo's but a thought--a thought inthe minds o' men and women, but in the brain o' a sculptor inparticular. However, there'll come a day when the thought'll freeze intobronze. Dear me, think o' that!"
At all times how ready and willing he was to answer questions! "Ask meannything," he would challenge smilingly. He was a mine, a storehouse,yes, a very fountain of knowledge, satisfying every inquiry, settlingevery argument--even to that one regarding the turning of the earth. Andso Johnnie would constantly propound: How far does the snow fall? Whydoesn't the rain hurt when it hits? Do flies talk? What made Grandpagrow old?
Ah, those were the days which were never to be forgotten!
There came a day which brought with it an added joy. So often Johnniehad mourned the fact that he did not have more than one friend at atime. But late on a blazing August afternoon, just as the Father wasgetting up to take his leave, the hall door squeaked open slowly, andthere on the threshold, with his wide hat, his open vest, watchchain,furred breeches and all, was One-Eye! ("Oh, two at a time, now!" Johnnieboasted to Cis that night. "Two at a time!")
Yet at first he was not able to believe his own eyes. Neither was FatherPat. The priest stared at the cowboy like a man in a daze. Then helooked away, winking and pursing his lips. Once more he stared. At last,one hand outstretched uncertainly, he crossed to One-Eye and cautiouslytouched him.
Not understanding, One-Eye very respectfully took the hand, and shookit. "How are y'?" he said.
"Ah! So ye _do_ exist!" breathed the Father, huskily. Then shaking handsagain, "Shure, I've heard about ye for this long time, but was under theimpression that ye was only a spook!"
Warm were the greetings exchanged now by the cowboy and Johnnie. One-Eyewas powerfully struck by the improvement in the latter's physicalappearance. "Gee-whillikens, sonny!" he cried. "W'y, y're not half aspeeked as y' used t' be! Y're fuller in the face! And a lot taller!_Say!_" And when Johnnie explained that it was mostly due to a quart ofmilk which a certain Mr
. Perkins had been bringing to him six days outof seven (until the supply had been cut off along with the visits of thedonor), without another syllable, up got One-Eye and tore out, leavingthe door open, and raising a pillar of dust on the stairs in the wakeof his spurs. He was back in no time, a quart of ice-cold milk in eitherhand. "If he likes it," he explained to Father Pat, "and if it's goodfor him, w'y, they ain't no reason under the shinin' sun w'y he can'thave it.--Sonny, I put in a' order for a quart ev'ry mornin'. And I paidfor six months in advance."
His own appearance was not what it had been formerly. He looked lessleathery, and lanker. In answer to Johnnie's anxious inquiry, headmitted that he had been sick, "Havin' et off, accidental, 'bout halfa' inch o' mustache;" though, so far as Johnnie could see, none of thesandy ornament appeared to be missing. And where had he been all thislong time? Oh, jes' shuttlin' 'twixt Cheyenne and the ranch.
His sickness had changed him in certain subtle ways. He had less to saythan formerly, did not mention Barber, did not ask after Cis, andjiggled one foot constantly, as if he were on the point of again jumpingup and taking flight. Father Pat gone, he brightened considerably as hediscussed the departed guest. "Soldier, eh!" he exclaimed. "Wal, youngfeller, I'll say this preachin' gent ain't no ev'ryday, tenderfootparson! No, ma'am! He's got savvy!"
He was politely attentive, if not enthusiastic, when Johnnie told himmore about Mr. Perkins, the future scout dwelling especially upon thatrosy time which would see him in uniform ("but how I'm goin' t' getthat, I don't know"). Johnnie did all the setting-up exercises for theWesterner, too; and, as a final touch, displayed for his inspection anindisputably clean neck!
But Johnnie had saved till the last the crowning news of all. And hefelt certain that if the cowboy had shown not more than a livelyinterest in Father Pat, and had been only politely heedful regarding boyscouts, things would be altogether different when he heard about theengagement.
"One-Eye," began Johnnie, impressively, "I got somethin' _else_ t' telly'. Oh, it's somethin' that'll su'prise y' _awful_! What d' y' think itis?"
One-Eye was in the morris chair at the time, his hat on, his singleorgan of vision roving the kitchen. In particular, it roved in thedirection of the tiny room, where, through the open door, could be seendimly the gay paper flounces bedecking Cis's dressing-table. "Aw, Idunno," he answered dully.
"But, _guess_, One-Eye!" persisted Johnnie, eager to fire the cowboy'scuriosity. "Guess! And I'll help y' out by tellin' y' this much: it's'bout Cis."
Ah! That caught the interest! Johnnie could tell by the way that singleeye came shooting round to hold his own. "Yeh?" exclaimed the Westerner."Wal--? Wal--?" He leaned forward almost impatiently.
"Cis and Mister Perkins 're goin' t' be married."
One-Eye continued to stare; and Johnnie saw the strangest expressioncome into the green eye. Anger seemed a part of that expression, andinstantly Johnnie regretted having shared the news (but why _should_ thecowboy be angry?) Also there was pain in the look. Then did One-Eyedisapprove?
At this last thought, Johnnie hastened to explain how things stood inthe flat. "Big Tom, he don't know they're goin' t' be married," he said,"and we'd be 'fraid t' tell him."
"I--I savvy." Now One-Eye studied the floor. Presently, as if he werebusy with his thoughts, he reached up and dragged his hat far down overhis blind eye. The hat settled, he settled himself--lower and lower inthe big chair, his shoulders doubling, his knees falling apart, hisclasped hands hanging between his knees and all but touching his boots.Thus he stayed for a little, bowed.
All this was so different from what Johnnie had expected that again hesuspected displeasure--toward Cis, toward himself; and as with asinking, miserable heart he watched his visitor, he wished from his soulthat he had kept the engagement to himself. "Y' ain't g-g-glad," hestammered finally.
However, as Johnnie afterward remarked to Cis, when it came to judgingwhat 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'mtickled t' death t' hear it!--jes' plumb tickled t' death!" (And how wasJohnnie to know that this was not strictly the truth?)
The next afternoon, while Father Pat was reading aloud the story of theSangreal, here entered One-Eye again, stern purpose in the veryupturning of that depleted mustache. "Figgered mebbe I could ask y' t'do somethin' fer me," he told the priest. "It's concernin' that scoutproposition o' Johnnie's. Seems like he'll be needin' a uniform prettysoon, won't he? Wondered if y'd mind pur-_chasin'_ it." Then down uponthe kitchen table he tossed a number of crisp, green bills.
Stunned at sight of so much money, paralyzed with emotion, andtongue-tied, Johnnie could only stare. Afterward he remembered, with abothersome, worried feeling, that he had not thanked One-Eye before thelatter took his leave along with Father Pat. That night on the roof hewalked up and down while he whispered his gratitude to a One-Eye who wasa 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 simplyflow from between his lips now? though he had not been able to whisperone at the proper time!)
That night, wearing the uniform he had not yet seen, he took a longpretend-walk; but not along any street of the East Side; not even upFifth Avenue. He chose a garden set thick with trees. There was a lakein the garden; and wonderful birds flew about--parrots, they were, likethe ones owned by Crusoe. For a new suit of an ordinary kind, anythoroughfare of the city might have done well enough. But the newuniform demanded a special setting. And this place of enchantment wasMr. Rockefeller's private park!
It seemed as if the night would never go! Next morning, it seemed as ifBig Tom would never go, nor the Father come. But at an early hour thelatter did appear, panting, in his arms a large pasteboard box. At sightof that box, Johnnie felt almost faint. But when the string was cut, andthe cover taken off, disclosing a crisp, clean, khaki uniform, withlittle, breathless cries, and excited exclamations, yes, and with wetlashes, 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 itwas his!
Though there was, of course, a chance that another strike might happen,and Big Tom come trudging home, nevertheless Johnnie could not resistthe temptation of donning the precious outfit, seeing himself in it, andshowing himself to the Father. But first he took a thorough hand-wash,this to guard against soiling a new garment; to insure against surprisewhile he was putting the clothes on, he scurried into Cis's room withthe armful, leaving Father Pat in the morris chair, from where thelatter called out advice now and again.
On went everything. Not without mistakes, however, and some fumbling, inthe poor light, over strange fastenings (all of Johnnie's fingers hadturned into thumbs). The Father had done his part particularly well, andthe suit fitted nicely. So did the leggings, so soon as Johnnie,discovering that he had them on upside down, inverted them. Thebuttoning and the belting, the lacing and the knotting, at an end, heput on the hat. But was undecided as to whether or not he should wear itat a slant of forty-five degrees, as One-Eye wore his, or straight, aswas Mr. Perkins's custom. Finally he chose the latter fashion, took along breath, like a swimmer coming up out of the depths, and--walkedforth in a pair of squeaking brown shoes.
How different from the usual Johnnie Smith he looked! He had lost thatcurious chunky appearance which Barber's old clothes gave him, and whichwas so misleading. On the other hand, his thin arms and pipelike legswere concealed, respectively, by becoming cloth and canvas. As for hisbody, it was slender, and lithe. And how straight he stood! And howsmart was his appearance! And how tall he seemed!
The priest threw up astonished hands. "Shure," he cried, "and is thisannybody I know?"
"Oh, it is! I am!" declared Johnnie, flushing under the brim of theolive-drab hat. "It's me, Father Pat! Oh, my! Do I look fine? D' y' likeit?"
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!"
The Father walked in circles too, exclaiming and admiring. "It can't bea certain little lad who lives in the Barber flat," he puzzled. "So whocan it be? No, I don't know this small soldier, and I'll thank ye ifye'll introduce me!"
"Oh," answered Johnnie, "I ain't 'zac'ly sure I'm myself! Oh, FatherPat, isn't it wonderful?--and I know I've got it 'cause I can take holdof it, and _smell_ it! Oh, my goodness!" A feeling possessed him whichhe had never had before--a feeling of pride in his personal appearance.With it came a sense of self-respect. "And _I_ seem t' be new, andclean, and fine," he added, "jus' like the clothes!"
"Ye're a wee gentleman!" asserted the Father; "--a soldier and agentleman!" And he saluted Johnnie.
Johnnie returned the salute--twice! Whereupon Grandpa fell to saluting,and calling out commands in his quavering old voice, and trying to standupon his slippered feet.
In the midst of all the uproar, "Oh, One-Eye! One-Eye! One-Eye!" Forhere, piling one happiness upon another, here was the cowboy, staggeringin under the weight of a huge, ice-cold watermelon.
"That's my name!" returned the Westerner, grinning. "But y' better takethe eggs outen my pockets 'fore ye grab me like that. Y' know eggs canbust."
When the eggs were rescued, along with a whole pound of butter, Johnniesaluted One-Eye. Next, he held out his hand. "Oh, I--I think you'reawful good," he declared (he had thought up this much of his speech thenight before on the roof).
One-Eye waved him away as if he were a fly, and said "Bosh!" a greatmany times as Johnnie tried to continue. Finally, to change the subject,the cowboy broke into that sad song about his mother, which stopped anyfurther attempt to thank him.
"I'll tell y' what," he declared when Johnnie's mind was at lastcompletely diverted from his polite intention; "they's jes' one thingshy. Yeppie, one. What y' need now is a nice, fine, close hair cut."
"At a--at a barber's?" Johnnie asked, already guessing the answer.
"Come along!"
"Oh, One-Eye!" gasped Johnnie. (Oh, the glory of going out in theuniform! and with the cowboy! And how would he ever be able to take thenew suit off!) "But if I wear it out, and _he_ sees me, and----"
One-Eye was at the door, ready to lead the way. (Father Pat would staybehind with Grandpa.) The cowboy turned half about. "If Barber was t'find out," he answered, "and so much as laid a little finger on thatsuit, he'd have t' settle matters with _me_. Come!"
Like one in an enchanted dream, Johnnie followed on in his stiff, newshoes. It was noon, and as they emerged from the dark hallway which ledinto the main street to the north, the sidewalks were aswarm. Indeed,the doorstep which gave from the hall to the pave was itself plantedthick with citizens of assorted sizes. To get out, One-Eye lifted hisspurred boots high over the heads of two small people. But Johnnie,doffing the scout hat with practiced art, "'Scuse me, please," hebegged, in perfect imitation of Mr. Perkins; and in very awe fully sixof the seated, having given a backward glance, and spied that uniform,rose precipitately to let him by.
"Johnnie Barber!" gasped some one. "What d' y' know!" demanded another.From a third came a long, low whistle of amazement.
Johnnie's ears stung pleasantly. "Hear 'em?" he asked One-Eye. "Coursethey mean me!"
"Ad-mi-ra-tion," pronounced the cowboy, who always took his big wordsthus, a syllable at a time. "Sonny, y've knocked 'em all pie-eyed!"
The barber shop was not nearly so regal as that restaurant of fond andglorious memory. Yet in its way it was splendid; and it was mostinteresting, what with its lean-back chairs, man-high mirrors, hugestacks of towels, lines of glittering bottles, and rows of shaving mugs(this being a neighborhood shop). And how deliciously it smelled!
It was a little, dark gentleman in a gleaming white coat who wavedJohnnie into one of the chairs--from which, his eyes wide and eager, thelatter viewed himself as never before, from his bare head to his knees,and scarcely knew himself!
One-Eye came to stand over the chair. "Now, don't y' give the boy one ofthem dis-gustin', round, mush-bowl hair cuts!" he warned, addressing thesmall, dark man. "Nope. He wants the reg'lar old-fashioned kind, with afeather edge right down t' the neck."
When one travels about under the wing of a millionaire, all thingshappen right. This was Johnnie's pleased conclusion as, with a snip,snip, snip, the bright scissors did their quick work over his yellowhead. He had a large white cloth pinned about his shoulders (no doubtthe barber had noted the uniform, and was giving it fitting protection),and upon that cloth fell the severed bits of hair, flecking it withgold. In what One-Eye described afterward as "jig-time," the last snipwas made. Then Johnnie had his neck dusted with a soft brush, the whitecloth was removed, and he stood up, shorn and proud.
Outside, several boys were hanging against the window, peering in. AsJohnnie settled his hat he recalled something Father Pat had once saidabout the desirability of putting one's self in another person's place.Johnnie did that, and realized what a fortunate boy he was--with hiswonderful friend at his side, his uniform on his back, and "a dandy haircut." So as he went out in One-Eye's wake, "Hullo!" he called to theboys in the most cordial way.
"And I reckon we look some punkins?" the cowboy observed when they wereback in the flat once more.
"Shure," replied Father Pat, "and what's more civilizin' than a barbershop!"
And now the question was, how could Cis view Johnnie in all his militarymagnificence without putting that new uniform in danger? One-Eye hadthe 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."
However, as he waited for Cis, Johnnie could not bring himself to taketoo many chances with One-Eye's superb gift, and hid it, though he felthot enough, beneath Barber's big clothes (and how fortunate it was thatthe longshoreman's cast-offs were voluminous enough to go overeverything). Thus doubly clad, he looked exceedingly plump and padded.That was not the worst of it. The sleeves of the new coat showed. Butall he had to do was draw up over them that pair of Cis's stockingswhich had kept his thin arms warm during the past winter. Of course hisleggings and the shoes also showed, so he took these off. Thenperspiring, but happy, he watched his two friends go, giving them afarewell salute.
Cis came in promptly. "Oh, all day I've hardly been able to wait!" shedeclared. Then with upraised hands, "Oh, Johnnie, how _beautiful_ youare! Oh, you're like a picture! Like a picture I once saw of a boy whosang in a church! Oh, Johnnie, you're the best-looking scout in all NewYork! Yes, you are! And I'm going to kiss you!"
He let her, salving his slight annoyance thereat with the thought thatno one could see. "But don't say anythin' t' the Father 'r One-Eye aboutme bein' beautiful," he pleaded. "Will y'? Huh?"
She promised she would not. "Oh, Johnnie," she cried again, having takena 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 joyout of things!
Yet, under the circumstances, no pang of any sort could endure verylong. Particularly as--following the proper signal--Johnnie went to Mrs.Kukor's, Cis at his brown heels. Arrived, he saluted an astonished ladywho 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 ofexclamations, all in Yiddish. After that, "Soch stylish!" she gaspedrapturously. "Pos-i-tivvle!"
Back in the flat again, Johnnie took off the uniform. That called forwill power; but he dared not longer risk his prized possession. Latethat night, when Big Tom had eaten to repletion of the watermelon, andsmoked himself to sleep on one of One-Eye's cigars, Johnnie reached inaround the jamb of Cis's door and cautiously drew that big suit box tohim. 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 andclean and strong it felt! Blushing at his own foolishness, he lifted thecowboy's gift to his lips and kissed it.