The Rich Little Poor Boy Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  THE FOUR MILLIONAIRES

  JOHNNIE always started his own daily program with a taste of fresh air.He cared less for this way of spending his first fifteen free minutesthan for many another. But as Cis, with her riper wisdom, had pointedout, a short airing was necessary to a boy who had no red in his cheeks,and too much blue at his temples--not to mention a pinched look aboutthe nose. Johnnie regularly took a quarter of an hour out of doors.

  He took it from the sill of the kitchen window--which was the onlywindow in the Barber flat.

  This sill was breast-high from the kitchen floor, Johnnie not being tallfor his age. But having shoved up the lower sash with the aid of thebroom handle, he did not climb to seat himself upon the ledge. For therewas no iron fire escape outside; the nearest one came down the wall ofthe building to the kitchen window of the Gamboni family, to the left.And so Johnnie denied himself a perch on his sill--a dangerous position,as both Mrs. Kukor and Cis pointed out to him.

  Their warnings were unnecessary. He could easily realize what a slip ofthe hand might mean: a plunge through space to the brick paving farbelow; and there an instant and horrible end. His picture of it wasenough to guard him against accident. He contented himself with layinghis body across the sill, with the longer and heavier portion of hissmall anatomy balanced securely against a shorter and lighter upperportion.

  He achieved this position and held it untiringly by the aid of the oldrope coil. This coil was a relic of those distant times when there wasno fire escape even outside the kitchen window of the Gambonis, and thelandlord provided every tenant with this cruder means of flying thebuilding. The rope hung on a large hook just under the Barber window,and was like a hard, smudged wheel, so completely had the years and theclimate of the kitchen colored and stiffened it. And Johnnie's weightwas not enough to elongate its set curves.

  It was a handy affair. Using it as a stepping-place, and pulling himselfup by his hands, he brought the lower end of his breastbone into contactwith the sill. Resting thus, upon his midriff, he was thoroughlycomfortable, due to the fact that Big Tom's shirt and trousersthoroughly padded his ribby front. Then he swelled his nostrils with hisintaking of air, and his back heaved and fell, so that he was for allthe world like some sort of a giant lizard, sunning itself on a rock.

  Against the dingy black-red of the old wall, his yellow head stood forthas gaudily as a flower. The flower nodded, too, as if moved by thebreeze that was wreathing the smoke over all the roofs. For Johnnie wastaking a general survey of the scenery.

  The Barber window looked north, and in front of it were the rear windowsof tenements that faced on a street. There was a fire escape at everyother one of these windows--the usual spidery affair of black-paintediron, clinging vinelike to the bricks. And over each escape were drapedgarments of every hue and kind, some freshly washed, and drying; othersairing. Mingling with the apparel were blankets, quilts, mattresses,pillows and babies.

  Somehow Johnnie did not like the view. He glanced down into the gloomyarea, where a lean and untidy cat was prowling, and where theresounded, echoing, the undistinguishable harangue of the fretful Italianjanitress.

  Now Johnnie's general survey was done. He always made it short, wastingless than one minute in looking down or around. It was beauty that drewhim--beauty and whatever else could start up in his mind the experienceshe most liked. His face upturned, one hand flung across his brows toshield his eyes, for the light outside the sill seemed dazzling afterthe semidark of the flat, he scanned first the opposite roof edges, awhole story higher than he, where sparrows were alighting, and wheresmoke plumes curled like veils of gossamer; next he scanned the sky.

  Above the roofline of the tenements was a great, changing patch which hecalled his own, and which he found fascinating. And not only for what itactually showed him, which was splendid enough, but for the eternalpromise of it. At any moment, what might not come slipping into sight!

  What he longed most to catch sight of was--a stork. Those babies acrosson the fire escapes, storks had brought them (which was the main reasonwhy all the families kept bedclothes out on the barred shelves; a quiltor a pillow made a soft place on which to leave a new baby). A stork hadbrought Cis--she had had her own mother's word for it many times beforethat mother died. A stork had brought Johnnie, too--and Grandpa, Mrs.Kukor, the Prince of Wales, the janitress; in fact, every one.

  "I wonder what kind of a stork was it that fetched _Big Tom_!" Johnnieonce had exclaimed, straightway visioning a black and forbidding bird.

  Storks, according to Cis, were as bashful as they were clever, and didnot come into sight if any one was watching. They were big enough to beseen easily, however, as proven by this: frequently one of them camefloating down with twins!

  "Down from where?" Johnnie had wanted to know, liking to have hisknowledge definite.

  "From their nests, silly," Cis had returned. But had been forced toconfess that she did not know where storks built their nests. "InCentral Park, I guess," she had added. (Central Park was as good a placeas any.)

  "Oh, you guess!" Johnnie had returned, disgusted.

  He had never given up his watching, nor his hope of some day seeing abig baby-bringer. He searched his sky patch now. But could see only thedarting sparrows and, farther away, some larger birds that wheeledgracefully above the city. Many of these were seagulls. The others werepigeons, and Cis had told him that people ate them. This fact hurt him,and he tried not to think about it, but only of their flight. He enviedthem their freedom in the vast milkiness, their power to penetrate it.Beyond the large birds, and surely as far away as the sun ever was, somegreat, puffy clouds of a blinding white were shouldering one another asthey sailed northward.

  Out of the wisdom possessed by one of her advanced age, Cis had told himseveral astonishing things about this field of sky. What Barberconsidered a troublesome, meddlesome, wasteful school law was, atbottom, responsible for her knowing much that was true and considerablewhich Johnnie held was not. And one of her unbelievable statements (thisfrom his standpoint) was to the effect that his sky patch was constantlychanging,--yes, as frequently as every minute--because the earth wassteadily moving. And she had added the horrifying declaration that thismovement was in the nature of _a spin_, so that, at night, the whole ofNew York City, including skyscrapers, bridges, water, streets, vehiclesand population, _was upside down in the air_!

  "Aw, it ain't so!" he cried, though Cis reminded him (and rathersternly, for her) that in doing so he was questioning a teacher who drewa magnificent salary for spreading just such statements. "And if theypay her all that money, they're crazy! Don't y' know that if we was t'come upside down, the chimnies'd fall off all the buildin's? and EastRiver'd _spill_?"

  Cis countered with a demonstration. She filled Big Tom's lunch pail withwater and whirled it, losing not a drop.

  But he went further, and proved her wrong--that is so far as theupside-down of it was concerned. He did this by staying awake the wholeof the following night and noting that the city stayed right-side upthroughout the long hours. Cis, poor girl, had been pitifullymisinformed.

  But the changing of the sky he believed. He believed it because at nightthere was the kind of sky overhead that had stars in it; also,sometimes, a moon. But by dawn, the starred sky was gone--been leftbehind, or got slipped to one side; in its place was a plain,unpatterned stretch of Heaven which, in due time, was once moresucceeded by a firmament adorned and a-twinkle.

  When Cis returned home one evening and declared that the forewoman atthe factory had asserted that there were stars everywhere in the sky byday as well as by night, and no plain spots at all anywhere; and,further, that if anybody were at the bottom of a deep well he--orshe--could see stars in the sky in the daytime, Johnnie had fairlyhooted at the tale. And had finally won Cis over to his side.

  Her last doubt fled when, having gone down into a dark corner of thearea the Sunday following, she found, as did he, that no stars were tobe seen anywhere. After that
she believed in his theory of starlesssky-spots; starless, but not plain. For in addition to the sun, manyother things lent interest to that field of blue--clouds, rain, sleet,snow, and fog, all in their time or season. Also, besides the birds, heoccasionally glimpsed whole sheets of newspapers as they ambitiouslyvoyaged above the house tops. And how he longed for them to blow againsthis own window, so that he might read them through and through!

  Sometimes he saw a flying machine. The first one that had floated acrosshis sky had very nearly been the death of him. Because, forgettingdanger in his rapturous excitement, he had leaned out dangerously, andmight have fallen if he had not suddenly thought of Grandpa, and thrownhimself backward into the kitchen to fetch the wheel chair. The littleold soldier had only been mildly diverted by the sight. Johnnie,however, had viewed the passing of the biplane in amaze, though later onhe came to accept the conquest of the air as just one more marvel in aworld of marvels.

  But his wonder in the sky itself never lessened. About its width he didnot ponder, never having seen more than a narrow portion of it since hewas big enough to do much thinking. But, oh, the depth of it! He couldsee no sign of a limit to that, and Mrs. Kukor declared there was none,but that it reached on and on and on and on! To what? Just to more ofthe on and on. It never stopped.

  One night Cis and he, bent over the lip of the window, she upholsteredon a certain excelsior-filled pillow which was very dear to her, and hepadded by Big Tom's cast-offs, had attempted to realize what Mrs. Kukorhad said. "On--and on--and on--and on," they had murmured. Until finallyjust the trying to comprehend it had become overpowering, terrible. Cisdeclared that if they kept at it she would certainly become dizzy andfall out. And so they had stopped.

  But Johnnie was not afraid to think about it, awful as it was. It wasat night, mostly, that he did his thinking. At night the birds he lovedwere all asleep. But so was Barber; and Johnnie, with no fear ofinterruption, could separate himself from the world, could mentally kickit away from under him, and lightly project his thin little body up tothe stars.

  Whenever fog or clouds screened the sky patch, hiding the stars, aradiance was thrown upon the heavens by the combined lights of thecity--a radiance which, Johnnie thought, came from above; and he wasalways half expecting a strange moon to come pushing through the cloudscreen, or a new sun, or a premature dawn!

  Now looking up into the deep blue he murmured, "On--and--on--and on," tohimself. And he wondered if the gulls or the pigeons ever went so farinto the blue that they lost their way, and never came back--but justflew, and flew, and flew, till weariness overcame them, when theydropped, and dropped, and dropped, and dropped!

  A window went up in front of him, across the area, and a voice began tocall at him mockingly: "Girl's hair! Girl's hair! All he's got is girl'shair! All he's got is girl's hair!"

  He started back as if from a blow. Then reaching a quick hand to thesash, he closed the window and stepped down.

  The voice belonged to a boy who had once charged Mrs. Kukor with goingto church on a Saturday. But even as Johnnie left the sill he felt noanger toward the boy save on Mrs. Kukor's account. Because he knew thathis hair _was_ like a girl's. If the boy criticized it, that was no morethan Johnnie constantly did himself.

  The second his feet touched the splintery floor he made toward thetable, caught up the teapot, went to lean his head over the sink, andpoured upon his offending locks the whole remaining contents of thepot--leaves and all. For Cis (that mine of wisdom) had told him thattea was darkening in its effect, not only upon the lining of the tummy,which was an interesting thought, but upon hair. And while he did notcare what color he was inside, darker hair he longed to possess. So, hisbright tangles a-drip, he set the teapot in among the unwashed pans andfell to rubbing the tea into his scalp.

  And now at last he was ready to begin the really important matters ofthe day.

  But just which of many should he choose for his start? He stood stillfor a moment, considering, and a look came into his face that was allpure radiance.

  High in the old crumbling building, as cut off from the world about himas if he were stranded with Grandpa on some mountain top, he did notfret about being shut in and away; he was glad of it. He was spared thetaunts of boys who did not like his hair or his clothes; but also he hadthe whole flat to himself. Day after day there was no one to make him dothis, or stop his doing that. He could handle what he liked, dig aroundin any corner or box, eat when he wished. Most important of all, hecould think what he pleased!

  He never dwelt for any length of time upon unhappy pictures--those whichhad in them hate or revenge. His brain busied itself usually with placesand people and events which brought him happiness.

  For instance, how he could travel! And all for nothing! His callousedfeet tucked round the legs of the kitchen chair, his body relaxed, hisexpression as rapt as any Buddhist priest's, his big hands locked abouthis knees, and his eyes fastened upon a spot on the wall, he couldforsake the Barber flat, could go forth, as if out of his own body, tovisit any number of wonderful lands which lay so near that he couldcross their borders in a moment. He could sail vast East Rivers inmarvelous tugs. He could fly superbly over great cities in his ownaeroplane.

  And all this travel brought him into contact with just the sort of menand women he wanted to know, so politely kind, so interesting. Theynever tired of him, nor he of them. He was with them when he wanted tobe--instantly. Or they came to the flat in the friendliest way. And whenits unpleasant duties claimed him--the Monday wash, the Tuesday ironing,the Saturday scrubbing, or the regular everyday jobs such as dishes,beds, cooking, bead-stringing, and violet-making--frequently they helpedhim, lightening his work with their charming companionship, stimulatinghim with their example and praise.

  Oh, they were just perfect!

  And how quiet, every one of them! So often when the longshoremanreturned of an evening, his bloodshot eyes roving suspiciously, a crowdof handsomely dressed people filled the kitchen, and he threaded thatcrowd, yet never guessed! When Big Tom spoke, the room usually cleared;but later on Johnnie could again summon all with no trouble whatever,whether they were great soldiers or presidents, kings or millionaires.

  Of the latter he was especially fond; in particular, of a certain four.And as he paused now to decide upon his program, he thought of thatquartet. Why not give them a call on the telephone this morning?

  He headed for the morris chair. Under its soiled seat-cushion was aragged copy of the New York telephone directory, which just nicelyfilled in the sag between the cushion and the bottom of the chair. Hetook the directory out--as carefully as if it were some volume notpossible of duplication.

  It was his only book. Once, while Cis was still attending school, he hadshared her speller and her arithmetic, and made them forever his own(though he did not realize it yet) by the simple method of photographingeach on his brain--page by page. And it was lucky that he did; for whenCis's brief schooldays came to an end, Big Tom took the two textbooksout with him one morning and sold them.

  The directory was the prized gift of Mrs. Kukor's daughter, Mrs.Reisenberger, who was married to a pawnbroker, very rich, and whooccupied an apartment (not a flat)--very fine, very expensive--in agreat Lexington Avenue building that had an elevator, and a uniformedblack elevator man, very stylish. The directory meant more to Johnniethan ever had Cis's books. He knew its small-typed pages from end toend. Among the splendid things it advertised, front, back, and at thebottom of its pages, were many he admired. And he owned these wheneverhe felt like it, whether automobiles or animals, cash registers oreyeglasses. But such possessions, fine as they were, took second placein his interest. What thrilled him was the list of subscribers--theliving, breathing thousands that waited his call at the other end of awire! And what people they were!--the world-celebrated, the fabulouslywealthy, the famously beautiful (as Cis herself declared), and thesocially elect!

  Of course there was still others who were prominent, such asstorekeepers, prize fighters, hotel owne
rs and the like (again it wasCis who furnished the data). But Johnnie, as has been seen, aimed highalways; and he was particular in the matter of his telephonicassociations. Except when shopping, he made a strict rule to ring uponly the most superior.

  There was a clothesline strung down the whole length of the kitchen.This Johnnie lowered on a washday to his own easy reach. At other timesit was raised out of the way of Big Tom's head.

  He let the line down. Then pushing the kitchen chair to that end of therope which was farthest from the stove and the sleeping old man, hestood upon it; and having considered a moment whether he would firstcall up Mr. Astor, or Mr. Vanderbilt, or Mr. Carnegie, or Mr.Rockefeller, decided upon Mr. Astor, and gave a number to a pricelessCentral who was promptness itself, who never rang the wrong bell, orreported a busy wire, or cut him off in the midst of an engrossingconversation.

  This morning, as usual, he got his number at once. "Good-mornin', MisterAstor!" he hailed breezily. "This is Johnnie Smith.--'Oh, good-mornin',Mister Smith! How are y'?'--I'm fine!--'That's fine!'--How are you,Mister Astor?--'Oh, I'm fine.'--That's fine!--'I was just wonderin',Mister Smith, if you would like to go out ridin' with me.'--Yes, Iwould, Mister Astor. I think it'd be fine!--'Y' would? Well, that'sfine! And, Mister Smith, I'll come by for y' in about ten minutes. Andif ye'd like to take a friend along----'"

  There now followed, despite the appointment set for so early a moment, along and confidential exchange of views on a variety of subjects. Whenthis was finished, Johnnie rang, in turn, Messrs. Vanderbilt, Carnegieand Rockefeller, sparing these gentlemen all the time in the world.(When any one of them did indeed call for him, fulfilling anappointment, what a gorgeous blue plush hat the millionaire wore! andwhat a royally fur-collared coat!)

  Now Johnnie put aside the important engagement he had made with Mr.Astor, and, being careful first to find the right numbers in the book,got in touch with numerous large concerns, and ordered jewelry,bicycles, limousines, steam boilers and paper drinking cups withmagnificent lavishness.

  He had finished ordering his tenth automobile, which was to be done upin red velvet to match the faithful Buckle, when there fell upon hisquick ear the sound of a step. In the next instant he let go of theclothesline, sent the telephone book slipping from the chair at hisfeet, and plunged like a swimmer toward that loose ball of gingham underthe sink.

  And not a moment too soon; for scarcely had he tossed the tied stringsover his tea-leaf-sprinkled hair, when the door opened, and there, coaton arm, great chest heaving from his climb, bulgy eyes darting to markthe condition of the flat, stood--Barber!