The Rich Little Poor Boy Read online

  CHAPTER II

  PRIDE AND PENALTY

  HIS toe stopped working across the crack in the floor. His left handforsook his tousled hair and fell to his side. His eyes narrowed, andhis chin came up. Then his lips began to move, noiselessly. "I'll payhim up for that!" he promised. "I'll make him wish he didn't shove me!This time, I'll think a' _awful_ bad think about him! I'll think theworst think I _can_! I'll--I'll----"

  He paused to decide. He had many "thinks" for the punishing of Big Tom,each of them ending in the desertion of that gentleman, who was alwaysleft helplessly groveling and pleading while Johnnie made a joyous,triumphant departure. Which of all those revenges would he select thismorning? Would he go, after handing the longshoreman over to theharshest patrolman in New York? or would it be a doctor who would remainbehind in the flat with the tyrant, assuring Johnnie, as the lattersauntered out of the kitchen for the very last time, that no skill onearth could entirely mend the hurts which he had so bravely inflictedupon his groaning foster father? or would he set sail grandly from theBattery for some port at least a million miles away, his last view ofthe metropolis including in its foreground, along with a brass band andmany dignitaries of the city, the kneeling shape of a wretcheddock-worker who had repented of his meanness too late?

  Suddenly Johnnie caught his breath, his eyes dilated, his fingers beganto play against his palms. He had decided. And in that same instant, achange came over him--complete, satisfactory, astonishing.

  Now, instead of the ragged, little boy upon whom Big Tom had glowereddown--a meek boy, subdued, even crestfallen, whose eyes were lowered,and whose lashes blinked fearsomely, he was quite a good deal taller,boldly erect, proud in his poise, light on his neatly shod feet,confident and easy in his manner, with a charming smile to right andleft as ringing cheers went up for him while he awaited the lessening ofthe pleasant tribute, his composure really quite splendid, his handsstuffed into the pocket of his absolutely new, light-gray suit, whichhad knee pants.

  A change had also taken place in the Barber kitchen. Now the walls werefreshly papered in a regal green-and-gold pattern which, at the floorline, met a thick, red carpet. Red velvet curtains hung at either sideof the window. Splendid, fat chairs were set carelessly here and there;and a marble-topped table behind Johnnie was piled with a variety ofdelectable dishes, including several pies oozing juice.

  And the crowd that pressed up to the hall door! It was worthy of hispride, for it was a notable gathering. In it was no tenant of thebuilding, no neighbor from other, near-by flats, and not a single memberof that certain rough gang which haunted the area, the dark hallsleading into it, and all the blocks round about.

  Indeed, no! Even in his "thinks" Johnnie was most careful regarding theselection of his companions, his social trend being ever upward. And hewas never small about any crowd of his, but always had everybody hecould remember who was anybody--a riot of famous people. On thisoccasion he was reaching into truly exclusive circles. Naturally, then,this was a well-dressed assemblage, strikingly equipped with silk hats(there were no ladies present) and gold-headed canes; and everygentleman in the gathering wore patent-leather shoes, and a vest thatdid not match his coat. All were smart and shaven and wealthy. In theirlead, uniformed in khaki, and wearing the friendliest look possible to ayoung man who is cheering, was His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.

  Like all the others in that wildly enthusiastic gathering, the youngheir apparent was turned toward Johnnie as toward a hero. And smallwonder. For there, between the distinguished crowd and the boy, lyingprone upon the red carpet, in his oldest clothes, and unshaven, was noneother than Big Tom Barber, felled by the single, overwhelming blow thatJohnnie had just given him, his nose bleeding (not too much, however)and the breath clean knocked out of him.

  Now the shouting died away, and Johnnie addressed the admiring throng.But his lips moved without even a whisper. "I made up my mind a longtime ago," he began, "to give Tom Barber a good thrashin'. So thismorning, I done it."

  Despite his ungrammatical conclusion, the speech called forth theresounding hurrahs of the Prince and his gentlemen, and once moreJohnnie had to wait, striving to appear properly modest, and twirling agold watch chain all of heavy links. But he could not keep his nostrilsfrom swelling, or his eyes from flashing. And his chest heaved.

  It was now that he made Cis one of his audience, dressing her in abecoming pink gown (her favorite color). Old Grandpa was standing besideher, no longer feeble and chair bound, but handsomely overcoated andhatted, and looking as formidable as any policeman. These two, naturallyenough, had only proud glances for the young champion of the hour.

  But Johnnie's task of subduing Barber was not finished. The brave boycould see that the big longshoreman was making as if to rise. Johnniecould still feel the touch of Big Tom's perspiring hand on his forehead,and the pinch of those cruel fingers on his shoulder. Taking a forwardstep, he gave Barber's shoulder a wrenching jerk, then thrust thelongshoreman backward by a spanking blow of the open palm full upon thatbig, ugly, bristling face.

  Again Barber fell prostrate. He was purple with mortification, andleered up at Johnnie murderously.

  "Ha! ha! Y' got enough?" Johnnie inquired. He was all of a glow now, andhis face fairly shone. But he was not done with the tyrant. A sense oflong-outraged justice made him hand Barber the big, black, three-legged,iron kettle that belonged on the back of the cookstove. There was somecold oatmeal in the bottom of the kettle, and Johnnie also handed thelongshoreman a spoon--with a glance toward the Prince, who seemed awedby Johnnie's complete mastery of the enemy. "Here!" the boy directed,giving the pot a light kick with a new shoe (which was brown). "Go aheadand eat. Eat ev'ry bite of it. _It's got kerosene in it!_"

  Now Barber got to his knees imploringly. "Oh, don't make me eat it!" hebegged. "Oh, don't, Johnnie! Please!"

  "Y' made _me_ eat it once," said Johnnie quietly. "And y' need a lesson,Tom Barber, and I'm givin' y' one."

  Barber choked down the bad-tasting food. But there was no taunting ofhim. Johnnie kept a dignified silence--as did also the Prince and thegentlemen. But when the last spoonful was swallowed, and Barber wascowering beside the empty kettle, the boy felt called upon to go stillfurther, and make away finally with that strap which was the symbol ofall he hated--that held up and together the too-large clothes which hadso long mortified his pride; that stood for the physical pain dealt outto him by Big Tom if he so much as slighted a bit of his girl's work.

  The strap was around him now, even over that new suit. It circled himlike a snake. He took it off, his lips working in another splendidspeech. "And I don't wear it ever again," he declared, looking down atBarber. "Do y' understand that?" He flicked a big arm with the leather,though not hard enough to give pain.

  "Yes," faltered the longshoreman, shrinking.

  "Well, I'm glad y' understand it," returned Johnnie. "And now you justwatch me for _on-n-ne_ second! You won't never lay this strap across_me_ again!"

  He whipped out a long, sharp, silver-handled bread-knife. Then turningto the table, he laid the strap upon the beautiful marble; and, in sightof all, cut it away to the very buckle--inch by inch!

  "Now!" he cried, as he scattered the pieces upon the carpet.

  The punishment was complete; his triumph nothing less than perfect. Andit occurred to him now that there was particular gratification in havingpresent this morning His Royal Highness. "Mister Prince," he said, "I'mawful tickled you was here!"

  The Prince expressed himself as being equally pleased. "Mister Smith,"he returned, "I don't know as I ever seen a boy that could hit like you!Why, Mister Smith, it's _wonderful_! How do y' do it?" He shookJohnnie's hand warmly.

  "Well, I guess I'm like David, Mister Prince," Johnnie explainedmodestly. "O' course you know David--and his friend, MisterGoli'th?--Oh, y' _don't_? Y' mean y' ain't never met neither _one_? Oh,gee! I'm surprised! But that's 'cause y' don't know Mrs. Kukor,upstairs. They're both friends of hers. Well, I'll ask 'em down."

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; An upturned face and a beckoning arm accomplished the invitation,whereupon there entered at once the champion Philistine and that youthwho was ruddy and of a fair countenance. And after a deal ofhand-shaking all around, Johnnie told the tale of that certaincelebrated fight--told it as one who had witnessed the whole affair. Heturned his face from side to side as he talked, gesticulating with easygrace.

  "And now I guess we're ready t' start, ain't we?" he observed as heconcluded. "David, would you and your friend like t' come along?--OnlyBig Tom, he's got t' stay behind, 'cause----"

  At the stove, the untidy heap of brown blanket in the wheel chairstirred again. Out of the faded folds a small head, blanched andbewhiskered, reared itself weakly. "Johnnie," quavered old Grandpa."Johnnie! Milk!"

  The boy's lips ceased to frame words. His right arm fell to his side;the left went up again to resume that tugging at his hair. He swayedslightly, shifting his weight, and his big toe began once more to curland uncurl. Then, as fancy was displaced by reality, as dreaming gaveplace to fact, Barber disappeared from the floor. The silk-hattedgentlemen with the gold canes went, too--along with the gallant youngEnglish Prince, that other Prince who was of Israel, and a tall personwith a sore, red bump on his forehead. The gold-and-green walls faded;so did the carpet, the curtains, and that light-gray suit (which wasprecisely like the one Johnnie had worn when he first came to the Barberflat--except, of course, that it was larger). The marble-topped tableand the fat chairs folded themselves up out of sight. And all thosedelicious fruit pies dissolved into thin air.

  But one thing did not go: A sense of satisfaction. Having met his enemybefore the world, and conquered him; having spent his own anger andloathing, and revenged the other's hated touch, his gray eyes held apleased, proud look. Once more in the soiled big shirt and trousers,with the strap coiled about his middle, he could put Barber aside forthe day--not brood about him, harboring ill-will, nor sulk and fret.

  Now he was ready for "thinks" of a different sort--adventures that werewholly delightful.

  A feeling of joy surged through him. Ahead lay fully nine unhamperedhours. He pivoted like a top. His arms tossed. Then, like a spring fromwhich a weight has been lifted, like a cork flying out of a chargedbottle, he did a high, leaping hop-skip straight into the air.

  "Wow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" he sang out full-throatedly. "Rr-r-r-r!ree-ee-ee!"--and explosively, "Brt! brt! brt! _bing!_"