CHAPTER XXXVII
UPS AND DOWNS
HE awoke a changed boy. How it had come about, or why, he did not try toreason; but on opening his gray eyes at dawn, he felt distinctly twoastonishing differences in himself: first, his sorrow over Cis's goingseemed entirely spent, as if it had taken leave of him some time in thenight; second, and more curious than the other, along with that sorrowhad evidently departed all of his old fear of Big Tom!
The fact that Johnnie no longer stood in dread of Barber was, doubtless,due to the fact that he had seen the giant outmatched and brought toterms. He hated him still (perhaps even more than ever); yet holding himin contempt, did not indulge in a single revenge think. He understoodthat, with Cis away, the longshoreman needed him as he had never neededhim before. So Barber would not dare to be ugly or cruel again, lest helose Johnnie too. "If I followed Cis where'd he be?" the boy askedhimself. "Huh! He better be careful!"
As to Cis, now that he had had a good rest, it was easy for him to seethat this change which had come into her life was a thing to be gratefulfor, not a matter to be mourned about. After her trouble with Barber,she could not stay on in the flat and be happy. Granting this, howfortunate it was that she could at once marry the man she loved. (Andwhat a man!)
He saw her in that splendid, imaginary apartment in which he had longago installed Mr. Perkins. And was he, John Blake, wishing that shewould stay in a tiny, if beautiful, room without a window?
"Aw, shucks, no!" he cried. "I don't want y' back! I miss y', but I'm_awful_ glad y'r gone! And I don't mind bein' left here."
He felt hopeful, ambitious, independent.
He rose with a will. He was stiff, just at first, but strong and steadyon his feet. As in the past he had never made a habit of pityinghimself, he did not pity himself now, but took his aches and pains as hehad taken them many a time before, that is, by dismissing them from hismind. He was hungry. He was eager for his daily wash. He wanted to getat his morning exercises, and take with them a whiff of the outdoorscoming in at the window. By a glance at his patch of sky he could tellthat this whiff would be pleasant. For how clear and blue was that bitof Heaven which he counted as a personal belonging! And just across thearea the sun was already beginning to wash all the roofs with itsaureate light.
Three sparrows hailed him from the window ledge, shrilly demandingcrumbs. Crumbs made him think of Mrs. Kukor's stealthy gift. Sureenough, the yellow bowl held soup. In the soup was spaghetti--the wide,ribbony, slippery kind he especially liked, coiled about in a brothwhich smelled deliciously of garlic. As for the black bread, somenibbling visitor of the night had helped himself to one corner of it,and this corner, therefore, went at once to the birds.
"My goodness!" soliloquized Johnnie. "How the mice do love Mrs. Kukor'sbread!" And he could not blame them. It _was_ so good!
Then, a trifle startled, he noted that the wheel chair was not in thekitchen; but guessed at once that Barber had quietly rolled Grandpa intothe bedroom at a late hour. Next, his roving glance dropped back to theold mattress, and he caught sight of the dolls. Forgetting what acomfort they had been to him the evening before, this while feelingboyishly ashamed and foolish at having had them with him, in a panic hecaught them up and flung them, willy-nilly, out of sight upon Cis'scouch; after which, looking sheepish, and wondering if Big Tom had, byany chance, seen them, he put away his bedding, filled the teakettle,and reached down the package of oatmeal.
It was not till he started to build a fire that he remembered! In thefire box still was all that remained of his uniform, his books, and theCarnegie medal. He lifted a stove lid; then as a mourner looks down intoa grave that has received a dear one, so, for a long, sad moment, hegazed into the ashes. "Oh, my stories!" he faltered. "Oh, my peachy suito' clothes!"
But it was the medal he hunted. On pressing the ashes through into theash-box, something fell with a clear tinkle, and he dug round till hefound a burned and blackened disk. Fire had harmed it woefully. Thatside bearing the face of its donor was roughened and scarred, so that nolikeness of Mr. Carnegie survived; but on the other side, near to therim, several words still stood out clearly--_that a man lay down hislife for his friends_.
After more poking around he found all the metal buttons off the uniform,each showing the scout device, for, being small, the buttons had droppedinto the ashes directly their hold upon the cloth was loosened by theflames, and so escaped serious damage. Also, following a more carefulsearch, he discovered--the tooth.
The clock alarm rang, and he surmised that Big Tom had wound it when hecame out for Grandpa.
"John!"
Somehow that splintered bit of Barber's tusk made Johnnie feel moreindependent than ever. With it between a thumb and finger, he dared beso indifferent to the summons that he did not reply at once. Instead, hetook the buttons to the sink and rinsed them; rinsed the tooth, too.Then he put the medal into the shallow dish holding the dead roseleaves, filled a cracked coffee cup with the buttons, and tossed thetooth into the drawer of the kitchen table.
"John!"--an anxious John this time, as if the longshoreman half fearedthe boy was gone.
"I'm up."
"Wish y'd come here."
Johnnie smiled grimly as he went. That "wish" was new! Always heretoforeit had been "You do this" and "You do that." Evidently something of achange had also been wrought in Big Tom! The bedroom door was ajar aninch or two. Through the narrow crack Johnnie glimpsed Grandpa, in hischair, ready to be trundled out. But Barber was lying down, his facehalf turned away.
"Wheel the old man into the kitchen," said the latter as he heardJohnnie. He spoke with a lisp (that tooth!), and his voice sounded weak."And then bring me somethin' t' eat, will y'?"
Having said Yes without a Sir, Johnnie wagged his head philosophically,the while he steered the chair skilfully across the sill. "Plenty o'good turns t' do now," he told himself; "and all o' 'em for _him_!"
But--a scout is faithful. He built the fire and cooked a tastymeal--toast, with the grease of bacon trimmings soaking it, coffee, androlled oats--and placed it on Grandpa's bed, handy to the longshoreman.Then he shut the bedroom door smartly, as a signal that Big Tom was tohave privacy, and returned to his own program.
He scampered downstairs for Grandpa's milk and his own, taking time toexchange a grin with the janitress, to whom Barber's defeat of yesterdaywas no grief. Then back he raced, washed, combed and fed the little,old soldier, helping him to think the gruel a "swell puddin'," and theservice Buckle's best. After that there was a short trip to MadisonSquare Garden where, despite all facts to the contrary, a colossalcircus had moved in. Johnnie summoned lions before the wheel chair, andtigers, camels, Arab steeds and elephants, Cis's room serving admirablyas the cage which contained these various quadrupeds. And, naturally,there was a deal of growling and roaring and kicking and neighing, whilethe camels barked surprisingly like Boof, and the elephants conversedwith something of a Hebrew accent. All of which greatly delightedGrandpa, and he cackled till his scraggly beard was damp with happytears.
When he was asleep there was sweeping to do (with wet, scattered tealeaves, and a broom drenched frequently at Niagara falls, all this tohelp keep down the dust). A few dishes of massy gold needed washing,too. The stove--that iron urn holding precious dust--called for thepolishing rag. Of all these duties Johnnie made quick work.
Then, without a thought that Big Tom might come forth, see, and seeing,disapprove, Johnnie switched to the floor that square of oilcloth whichso often covered the Table Round, rolled the wash-tub into place at thecloth's center, and partly filled it. At once there followed such asoaping and scrubbing, such a splashing and rinsing! Whenever the coldwater struck a sore spot there were gasps and ouches.
A close attention to details was not lacking. Ears were not forgotten,nor the areas behind them; nor was the neck (all the way around); norwere such soil-gathering spots as knee-knobs and elbow-points; nor eventhe black-and-blue streaks across an earnest face. And presently, thedrying process over
, and Cis's old toothbrush laid away, a pink andglowing body was bending and twisting close to the window, and shootingout its limbs.
When Johnnie was dressed, and stood, clean and combed and straight onhis pins, his chest heaving as he glanced around a kitchen which wasshipshape, and upon his aged friend, who was as presentable as possible,it occurred to him that when a caller happened in this morning--Mrs.Kukor, Father Pat, or Cis; or when he, himself, fetched King Arthur, orMr. Roosevelt, or Robinson Crusoe, no excuses of any kind would have tobe made. He and his house were in order.
Mrs. Kukor. So far he had not noticed a sound from overhead. When thebrown shoes were on, he rapped an I'm-coming-up signal on the sink pipe.There was no answer. He rapped it again, and louder, watching the clockthis time, in order to give the little Jewish lady a full minute to risefrom her rocking chair. But she did not rise; and no steps wentdoll-walking across the ceiling. At this early hour could Mrs. Kukor beout? He went up.
Another surprise. Another change. Another blow. At her door was hermorning paper, with its queer lettering; on the door, pinned low, waswhat looked like a note. Feeling sure that it had been left for him,Johnnie carried it half-way to the roof to get a light on its message,which was sorry news indeed:
_Der Jony my rebeka has so bad sicknus i needs to go by hir love LeahKukor._
He was so pained by the explanation, so saddened to learn that hisdevoted friend would be gone all day, that he descended absentmindedlyto the flat directly below Barber's, where he walked in unceremoniouslyupon nine Italians of assorted sizes--the Fossis, all swarmed abouttheir breakfast in a smoke-filled room.
With a hasty excuse, he darted out; then, his heart as lead, climbedhome. Poor Mrs. Kukor! Poor daughter Rebecca! Poor baby, whose mammahad a "bad sicknus!" And, yes, poor husband, Mr. Reisenberger!--eventhough he was "awful rich."
The broom had swept from under the stove those lengths of clothesline.With more philosophical wags of the head, Johnnie fastened them end toend with weaver's knots, and rehung the rope, knowing as he worked thathe could never again bear to telephone along that mended line.
"Gee! Barber spoils ev'rything!" he declared.
After the rope was up he felt weak. He sat down at the table, thin legscurled round the rungs of the kitchen chair, clean elbows on therestored oilcloth, a big fist propping each cheek; and presently foundhimself listening, waiting, his eyes on the hall door. At every noise,he gave a start, and hope added its shine to that other shine which soaphad left on his face.
And so the long morning passed. Shortly after noon, he carried dinner into Big Tom, and took away the breakfast dishes. Grandpa went as far asthe door with him, and opened grave, baby eyes at sight of his prostrateson. "Oh, Tommie sick!" he whispered, frightened. "Poor Tommie sick!"
"Shut up!" growled "poor Tommie," roughly, and Grandpa backed offquickly, with soft tap-taps.
"Maybe y' better have a doctor," essayed Johnnie, practically, and ascalmly as he might have said it to Cis.
"You mind your business."
The afternoon was longer than the morning. Johnnie sat at the tableagain. His face was hot, and he kept a dipper of water in front of himso that he could take frequent draughts. Sometimes he watched his patchof sky; sometimes he shut his eyes and read from the burned books, orlooked at their pictures; now and then he slept--a few minutes at atime--his head on his arms.
Toward evening, though rested physically, he found his spirits againdrooping. Bravely as he had started the day, its hours of futile waitinghad tried him. (Could it be possible that grief was a matter of theclock?) As twilight once more moved upon the city it brought with it themisery, the loneliness and the pain which had been his just twenty-fourhours before. Oh, where, he asked himself, was the light step, thetender voice, the helpful hand of her who had hurried home to him everynightfall of the past?
He understood then what a difference there could be between bodilysuffering and mental suffering. His whipping, severe as it had been, wasover and done, and all but forgotten. But this sorrow--! "Gee!" hebreathed, marveling; "how it sticks!"
No; he had not realized when Cis left how hard it would be to stay on atthe flat without her. And ahead of him were how many days like this one?He seemed there to stay for a time that was all but forever!
That night it was Boof who shared the mattress with him. He whispered tothe dog for a long while, recounting his troubles. Afterward, he saidover the tenth law, that one having to do with bravery. "Defeat does notdown him" the Handbook had said; and he was not downed. He thought ofevery valiant soul he knew--Aladdin, Heywood, Uncas, Jim Hawkins,Lancelot, Crusoe. He fought the tears. But he felt utterly stricken,wholly deserted.
--By all save Polaris, now risen above the roofs. "Oh, you can seeev'rything!" Johnnie said to the star, enviously. "So, please, where isFather Pat?"
But Polaris only stared back at him. Bright and hard, calm andunchanging, what difference did it make to so proud a beacon--the woe ofone small boy?
* * * * *
Joy cometh with the morning. This time Joy wore the disguise of a cowboywho had a black eye, a bag of apples, a newspaper, and two cigars. Alsohe carried a couple of businesslike packages, large ones, well wrappedin thick brown paper and wound with heavy string.
The excitement and happiness that One-Eye roused when he shuffled incame very nearly being the end of Johnnie, who could not believe his owneyes, but had to take hold of a shaggy trouser leg in order to convincehimself that this was a real visitor and not just a think.
The Westerner appeared to have changed his mind about Big Tom in muchthe same way that Johnnie had changed his (and, doubtless, for the samereason). Dropping all of his packages, and fishing the cigars from a topvest-pocket, he stalked boldly into the bedroom. "Say!" he began,"here's a couple o' flora dee rope. Smoke you' blamed haid off!" Then,as Barber, grunting, reached a grateful hand for the gift, "An', say!I've brung the kid some more of all what y' burned up. So tell me--rightnow--if y' got any objections."
"No-o-o-o!"--crossly.
"If y' have, spit 'em out!"
"Gimme a match!"
It was a victory!
"That feller's lost his face!" One-Eye confided to Johnnie when thebedroom door was shut. He winked emphatically with that darkly coloredgood eye.
"L--lost his face?" cried Johnnie, aghast. "What y' mean, One-Eye? Buthe had it this mornin'! I _saw_ it!"
"Aw, y' little jay-hawk!" returned the cowboy, fondly.
Then, excitement! In a short space of time which the Westerner describedas "two shakes o' a lamb's tail," Johnnie was garbed from hat toleggings in a brand-new scout uniform, and was gloating and gurglingover another _Robinson Crusoe_, another _Treasure Island_, another _Lastof the Mohicans_, another _Legends of King Arthur_, and another_Aladdin_. Each had tinted illustrations. Each was stiff with newness,and sweet to the smell. "And the sky-book, 'r whatever y' call it, andthe scout-book, w'y, they'll come t'morra, 'r the day after, I don'tknow which. --Wal, what d' y' say?"
"I say 'Thanks'--with _all_ of me!" Johnnie answered, trembling withearnestness. They shook hands solemnly.
"Oh, our books!" cried Grandpa. "Our nice, little soldier!" To him, thecowboy's presents were those which had gone into the stove.
There was something in that newspaper for Johnnie to read. It was ashort announcement. This had in it no element of surprise for him, sinceit told him nothing he did not already know. Nevertheless, it took hisbreath away. In a column headed "_Marriages_" were two lines which read,"_Perkins-Way: April 18, Algernon Godfrey Perkins to Narcissa Amy Way_."
"It's so!" murmured Johnnie, awed. "They're both married!" Seeing it inprint like that, the truth was clinched, being given, not only acertainty, but a dignity and a finality only to be conveyed by type."One-Eye, it's _so_!"
One-Eye 'lowed it was.
"And, my goodness!" Johnnie added. "Think o' Cis havin' her name in thepaper!"
They sat for a while without speaking. Grandpa, hav
ing been generouslysupplied by the cowboy with scraped apple, slept as sleeps a fed baby.Johnnie stacked and restacked his five books, caressing them, drawing inthe fragrance of their leaves. One-Eye studied the floor and jiggled afoot.
"Sonny," he said presently (it was plain that he had something on hismind); "y' won't feel too down-in-the-mouth if I tell y'--telly'--er--aw--" The spurred foot stopped jiggling.
"What? Oh, One-Eye, y're not goin' away right off?"
"T'night."
"Oh!"
"But, shucks, I'll be sailin' back East again in no time! These Noo Yorkbig-bugs is jes' yelpin' constant fer my polo ponies."
"I'm glad." But there was a shadow now upon a countenance which a momentbefore had been beaming. Things were going wrong with him--everything--allat once. It was almost as if some malign genie were working against him."Mrs. Kukor's away, too," he said. "And with Cis gone--" He swallowedhard.
One-Eye began to talk in a husky monotone, as if to himself. "They'snobody else jes' like her," he declared; "that's a cinch! She's shorethe kind that comes one in a box! Whenever I'd look at her, I'd allusthink o' a angel, 'r a bird, 'r a little, bobbin' rose." He sighed,uncrossed his shaggy knees, crossed them the other way, shifted his quidof tobacco to the opposite cheek, and pulled down the brim of the widehat till it touched his leathery nose. "Such a slim, little figger!" headded. "Such a pert, little haid! And--and a cute face! And she waswhite! _Plumb_ white!"
Johnnie, as he listened, understood that the cowboy was talking ofCis--no one else. He was not mourning his own departure, nor regrettingthe fact that a small, lonely boy was to be left behind. Which gave thatboy such a pang of jealousy as helped him considerably to bear this newblow.
"Wal," went on One-Eye, philosophically, "I never was a lucky cuss. Ifthe sky was t' rain down green turtle soup, yours truly 'd find himselfwith jes' a fork in his pocket."
What was the cowboy hinting? How had luck gone against him, who wasgrown-up, and rich, and free to travel whither he desired? And, aboveall, what connection was there between Cis and green turtle soup?
Johnnie could not figure it out. With all his power of imagination,there was one thing he never did understand--the truth concerningOne-Eye's feeling toward a certain young lady.