CHAPTER VI
THE DEAREST WISH
HE read--and the shining Orient burst upon him!
It was as if the most delicate of gossamer curtains had been brushedaside so that he could look at a new world. What he saw there rooted himto his chair, holding him spellbound. Yet not so much because itcontrasted sharply with his own little world, this bare flat of Barber'sin the lower East Side, as that it seemed to fit in perfectly with hisown experiences.
Aladdin was a boy like himself, who was scolded, and cuffed on the ears.The African magician was just another as wicked and cruel as thelongshoreman. As for that Slave of the Ring, Johnnie considered him nomore wonderful than Buckle. In fact, there was nothing impossible, oreven improbable, about the story. It held him by its sheer reality. Itsdrama enthralled him, too. And he gloried in all its beauty of goldendishes, gorgeous dress, fountain-fed gardens, jewel-fruited trees andprancing steeds.
He read carefully, one forefinger traveling to and fro across the widepages, while his lips moved silently, and he dragged at his hair.Sometimes he came to words he did not understand--_chastisement_,_incorrigible_, _physiognomist_, _handicraft_, _equipped_, _mosques_,_liberality_. He went over them and pressed on, just as he might haveclimbed one wall after the other if these barred his way. He could comeback to the hard words later--and he would. But first he must know howthings fared with this other boy.
When Grandpa wakened, Johnnie fairly wrenched his look from beautifulCathay to face the demands which the Borough of Manhattan made upon him.Tucking his book under the wide neckband of the big shirt, he let itslip down to rest at his belt. The old soldier was hungry. He wassupplied with milk toast so speedily that it was the next thing tomagic. Then Johnnie discovered a hollow feeling which centered in hisown anatomy, whereupon he ate several, cold boiled potatoes well spicedwith mustard.
Their late lunch over, Grandpa was strong in his appeals for a journeyas far south as Island Number 10. But now Johnnie had no heart for anytrip into distant country. The realm of China was about him. He wheeledthe chair up and down, but he sang to soothe Grandpa to sleep. And thistime his song was all of his great new happiness:
"Oh, I got a book! I got a book! I got a book! Oh, Mrs. Kukor, she give it t' me! And it's awful grand! Once it was a man's, and his name was Hunter-- I wonder if he lost it, or maybe somebody sold it on him. I'm goin' t' read it till I know ev'ry word! I'm goin' t' read it ev'ry day--ev'ry day! Go t' sleep, 'cause I want t' read some more! Go t' sleep! Go t' sleep! Go t' sleep!"
On and on he caroled, like a bird on a branch. At last Grandpa, aftersome mild protesting, was lulled by the rhapsody, and dozed once more;when Johnnie adroitly tapered off his song, brought the chair to acautious stop, drew the book from its warm hiding place, sank into themorris chair, and again there swept into the kitchen, as on the crestof a stream, the glorious, the enchanting East.
He saw the dull, old lamp rubbed for the first time, and the genie come.And he rejoiced with Aladdin as the poor Chinese boy attained theknowledge of the lamp's peculiar virtue. Only once did he emerge fromthe thralldom of the tale by his own will. That was when he read of thewonderful Buddir al Buddoor: "_The princess was the most beautifulbrunette in the world; her eyes were large, lively, and sparkling; herlooks sweet and modest; her nose was of a just proportion and without afault, her mouth small, her lips of a vermilion red and charminglyagreeable symmetry_----"
Here he paused, lifting farseeing, shining eyes. Many a time he hadspied a slim little girl who came out upon one of the fire escapesopposite. The little girl's hair was black and wavy, and the wind tossedit upon her shoulders as she looked around. She seldom glanced over atJohnnie, and to gain her attention he had to Hoo-hoo to her. Once he hadshown her that pillow so cherished by Cis, which was covered with brightcretonne. He had seen the little girl's white teeth flash then, and knewthat she was smiling.
She was like the Princess Buddir al Buddoor, dark, and red-lipped. Andhow kind she was! For she had never seemed to notice anything wrong witheither his hair or his clothes. He could understand how Aladdin feltabout the sultan's daughter, who was so lovely--all but her name!
He was deep in the story again when a plump hand interrupted by coveringhis page. So shut were his ears against every sound, inside and out,that he had not heard Mrs. Kukor enter. Now she held up something beforehis face. It was the alarm clock.
Next after Big Tom and his own hair he hated the clock most. It wasforever rousing him of a morning when he longed to sleep. Also, theclock acted as a sort of vicar to Barber. Its round, flat, bald facestared hard at Johnnie as its rasping staccato warned him boldly. Morethan once he had gone up to the noisy timepiece, taken it from its placeon the cupboard shelf, and given it a good shaking.
"So!" exclaimed Mrs. Kukor. She set the clock down and reached for thebook. "I keeps him by me. To-morrow, sooner you wass finish mit yourwork, he comes down again by the basket."
"Oh, but I can hide it!" urged Johnnie, illustrating his argument at thesame time. "And, oh, gee, Mrs. Kukor! I'm the luckiest kid in N'York!"
"Supper," pronounced Mrs. Kukor, seeing that the book was indeed wellhidden and would bring no fresh troubles upon that yellow head that day.
And it did not. For at suppertime, when Barber loomed in the doorwayonce more, the teakettle was on the stove, and waddling from side toside very much in the manner of Mrs. Kukor, the kitchen was filled withthe fruity aroma of stewing prunes, and Johnnie, with several saucers ofbright-hued beads before him, was busy at his stringing--a task which,being mechanical, could be performed without conscious effort. And hewas so engrossed over his saucers that Barber had to speak to him twicebefore the boy started up from his chair, letting the beads impaled onhis long needle slip off and patter upon the floor like so muchgay-colored sleet.
Barber gave a satisfied look around. "All right--set your table," hecommanded.
Johnnie obeyed. But this was a task which was not mechanical. And withhis thoughts still on the high hopes and plans of that other boy, he puttwo knives at one plate, two forks at another. But it was all done withsuch promptness, with such a quick, light step and eager, smiling eye,that Barber, remarking the swiftness and the spirit Johnnie showed, foronce omitted to harangue him for his mistakes.
Cis was more discerning than her stepfather. When she came slipping in,the boy's rapt expression told her that his thoughts were on somethingoutside the flat. She was not curious, being used to seeing him look sodetached. However, supper done with, and Barber out of the kitchen,putting his father to bed, she gleaned that something unusual hadhappened. For as they were washing and setting away the dishes, heleaned close to ask her the strangest question.
"Cis," he whispered, "what's p-h-y-s-i-o-g-n-o-m-i-s-t?"
She turned her head to stare; and knit her young brows, wondering andpuzzled, not at the question itself, but at what lay behind it. Thebedroom door was open. She dared not venture a counter question. "Startit again," she whispered back.
He named the letters through a second time. "It's a long word," heconceded. "It takes all of my fingers, and then one thumb and twofingers over. What does it spell?"
Cis's lips were pressed tight. They twitched a bit, to keep back withsome effort what she had on her mind. When they parted at last, shenodded wisely. "You never got that word out of my speller," shedeclared; "nor off of any paper bag from the grocer's." Which was to saythat she did not know what all those letters spelled, but that she wasfully aware he had a good deal to tell her.
Johnnie had already made up his mind that he would not share hisprecious secret with her. He feared to. Barber had never allowed Cis tobring home books, regarding all printed matter as a waste of time. AndCis had a way of obeying Barber strictly; also she often pleadedconscience and duty in matters of this kind. And to Johnnie anyconsideration for Barber's wishes or opinions, except the little thatwas forced by fear of the strap, was silly, girlish, and terriblytrying.
He admired Mrs. Kukor's stand. Backed by her, he meant to keep the bookand read it every minute he could. So with Big Tom once more in thekitchen, having an after-supper pipe in the morris chair, Johnnieignored Cis's silent invitation to join her in the window, and broughthis bedding from her room, spreading it out ostentatiously beside thestove. Then having filled the teakettle and stirred the breakfast cerealinto the big, black pot, he flung himself down upon his mattress with aweary grunt.
Barber smiled. The boy was tired. For once some real work had been donearound the place. "You better git t' bed early, too," he remarked toCis. As advice from him always amounted to a command, she disappeared atonce. Presently Big Tom got up, stretched his gorilla arms, yawned witha descending scale of Oh's, and went lumbering to bed.
A wait--which to Johnnie seemed interminable, while dusk thickened todarkness; then snores. The snoring continued all the while he wascounting up to four hundred. Also it achieved a regularity and loudnessthat guaranteed it to be genuine. Still Johnnie did not open his eyes.There were little movements in Cis's room, and he felt sure she was notasleep. Soon he had proof of it. For peering up carefully from underlowered lids, he saw her door slowly open; next, she came to stand init, dimly outlined in her faded cotton kimono.
She had something white in one hand. This she waved up and down in anoiseless signal. He did not stir. She stole forward, bent down, andtouched him. He went on breathing deep and steadily. She tiptoed back toher bed.
As patiently as possible he waited till the sound of her regularbreathing could be heard between Barber's rasping snores. Then he satup. So long as he had been able to read, he had thought of nothing butreading. But with the book put away there had come to him a wonderfulplan--a plan that made his bony little spine gooseflesh: _He would rubBarber's old kitchen lamp!_
Seldom used, it stood on a cupboard shelf beside the clock. Fairlyholding his breath, he got to his feet and crept across the floor. Inchby inch, cautiously, his hand felt its way to the right shelf, found thelamp, grasped the glass standard. But the table was the only properplace for the experiment. He carried the lamp there and set it down, hisheart beating hard under the pleats of his shirt.
Then he considered what his course of action should be. If Big Tom's oldlamp chanced to possess even a scrap of that power peculiar to the lampof Aladdin: if, when he rubbed the none too clean glass base, some geniewere to appear, asking for orders--what should he command?
It came to him then that what he wanted most in all the world was notbags of money, not dishes of massy gold, or rich robes, or slaves, butonly freedom. He wanted to get away from the flat; to leave behind himforever the hated longshoreman.
"If the great big feller comes when I rub," he told himself, "I'll sayt' him, 'Take Grandpa and Cis and me as far away as--as Central Park'"(this a region of delight into which he had peeped when he was three orfour years old, under escort of his Aunt Sophie). "'And leave us in aflat as good as this one.'"
With Big Tom out of his life, oh, how he would work!--violet-making,bead-stringing, and, yes, boarders! He could fetch Grandpa's bed outinto the new kitchen, and put three roomers into the little bedroom,just as several tenants in this building did. And what he could earn,added to Cis's wages at some factory, and Grandpa's pension (this aprincely income which was now regularly drawn and spent by Big Tom)would take care of the three splendidly.
Having settled upon the supreme wish, and fairly holding his breath, hereached out in the darkness and rubbed the lamp.
Nothing happened.
He waited a little. In this lamp business perhaps time figuredprominently; though his own friends--Buckle, the four millionaires,David, Goliath, the Prince, and any number of others always appeared inthe kitchen promptly.
But no genie of the lamp arrived. To make sure that his test was fair,he rubbed the lamp a second time, all the way around. Still no huge,hideous, helpful figure loomed out of the dark.
He grinned sheepishly, tugged at his hair a few times, then went back tohis mattress and sat down. He was not disappointed, for though he hadbeen hopeful, he had not been over-sure. And, anyhow, he had his book.He lifted it out, placed it upon his knees, and rested his forehead uponit. And the next moment, as if whisked to him by a genie all his own,Cathay was about him; and he was with the boy, Aladdin, plunging down aflight of steps on his way to a garden that yielded fruit which was alldiamonds and rubies and pearls.