The Rich Little Poor Boy Part 49

CHAPTER x.x.xII

HELP

KNOCK! knock! knock! knock!

At the first knock of the four, a sparrow to whom Johnnie had, for this long while, been giving good-turn crumbs, made a scrambling get-away from the window sill, followed in the same instant by a neat, brown mate who was equally startled at such a noise from somewhere just within. For dawn was only now coming upon the thousands of roofs that shelter the people of the Greatest City, the sun being still far down behind a sea-covered bulge of the world. And this was an hour when, usually, only early birds were abroad.

Rap! rap! rap! rap! rap! The summons was louder, more insistent, and quite unmistakably cross.

It roused Cis, and she lifted her head, and drew in a long, fluttering breath; but she was too stiff and weary and sore even to realize that a visitor was at the hall door. Once more she laid a pale, tear-stained cheek upon the table.

Bang! bang! bang! _BANG!_

Now she started up, understanding that help had come. And there was a creaking in the bedroom, where Barber was preparing to rise, while he swore and grumbled under his breath. Only Johnnie did not stir. Between his outstretched arms his yellow head lay as still as if it were stone.

Tied as he was, after all the long night hours his legs, held straight down, had completely lost their feeling; and his arms were as dead as his legs.

BANG! BANG! _BANG!_

"Aw, that'll do!" cried the longsh.o.r.eman. He came slouching out of his room. He was fully dressed, not having taken off his clothes the night before. For it had been his intention to leave Cis and Johnnie tied for an hour or two, then to get up and set them free. Now, seeing that it was morning, he first gave a nervous glance at the clock, then hurriedly dug into a pocket, fetched out his jack-knife, opened a blade, and cut the ropes holding Cis; next, and quickly, he severed those tighter strands which bound the boy.

Another bang, followed by an imperious rattling of the doork.n.o.b. Then, "Tom Barber, are ye in? If ye are, open this second, or I'll break down yer door!" It was Father Pat's voice, lacking breath, but deep with anger.

It was plain to Big Tom that the priest knew of the trouble. "Now, who's been runnin' t' _you_?" he snarled. "Never seen such a buildin' for tattle tales!--Here! Set up!" (This to Cis, who wavered dizzily in her chair as the longsh.o.r.eman shoved her roughly against the back of it.)

"Let me in, I tell ye!" ordered the Father, "or I'll go out and find a policeman!"

"All right! All right!"--impatiently. "Wait one minute!" Now Big Tom hastened to lift Johnnie off the table and stand the boy upon his feet.

But the moment the support of Barber's hand was taken away, Johnnie collapsed, going down to the floor in a soft, little heap, from the top of which his blue-marked face looked up sightlessly at Big Tom.

Frightened, the latter lifted the boy and laid him in the morris chair.

The small, cold body, partially covered by the rags of Grandpa's old undersuit, was so white and limp that it seemed lifeless. Hastily the longsh.o.r.eman threw his own coat over Johnnie, after which he swept together the several lengths of clothesline and flung them out of sight under the stove.

"Barber!"

The admitting of the priest could be put off no longer. For even as he called, Father Pat had put his shoulder to the door, so that an old panel was bending inward; next, he fell to kicking at the bottom rail with a stout shoe.

Barber gave a quick glance round the kitchen, then went to pull aside the bolt. "Hold on!" he ordered roughly; and as he swung the door open, "_Nice_ time t' be hammerin' a man out o' his bed!"

There was another in the hall besides the Father--Mrs. Kukor, in her street clothes, and wearing her best hat. Her face looked drawn, her black eyes weary. Her hard breathing proved that she had just come up three flights instead of descending one.

As Barber caught sight of her, he thrust his big frame into the doorway, blocking it. "There she is!" he declared hotly. "The tattler! The busybody! Hidin' books for a lazy kid! Helpin' him t' waste his time!

She can't come in here!"

"Stand out o' me way!" cried the Father. "I'm comin' in, and this lady with me!"

"Don't y' try t' tell _me_ what y're goin' t' do!" replied Big Tom. "Y'

can't take the runnin' o' this flat out o' _my_ hands--neither one o'

y'! I ain't goin' t' stand for it!"

"Ha-a-a-a!" retorted the priest. "And is the abusin' o' two children what ye call runnin' a flat? And we can't take _that_ out o' yer hands, can't we? Well, G.o.d be praised, there's police in this city, and there's societies t' handle such hulkin' brutes as yerself, and--_and_--!" Words failing him, he shook a warning finger in Barber's face.

Down the hall a door opened, and several heads appeared in it. This, as well as the priest's words, decided Big Tom (more gossip in the house would be a mistake). He stood aside and let his visitors enter, instantly slamming the door at their backs. "I won't have no girl out o'

this flat settin' in a park with some stranger!" he declared. "I promised her ma I'd look after her!"

He got no answer. There being no movement in the morris chair, under Big Tom's coat, the Father and Mrs. Kukor had rushed past it to Cis, for the moment seeing only her. Now they were bending over her, and "Girl, dear!

Girl, dear!" murmured the priest anxiously; and "So! so! so!" comforted the little Jewish lady.

Cis seemed not to know who was beside her. "He's dead!" she wept. "And it's my fault! _All_ my fault! O-o-o-oh!" A trembling seized her slender body. Once more she swayed, then toppled forward upon the table, all her brown hair falling over her arms.

"Vot wa.s.s she sayink?" demanded Mrs. Kukor, frightened. Falling back to the big chair, she sat upon one arm of it, stared in horror at Cis for a moment, then began to cry and rock, beating her hands.

"Barber, ye've a right t' be killed for this!" cried Father Pat. "And where's the lad? What've ye done t' him? G.o.d help ye if ye've worked him rale harm!"

Cis turned her face, and spoke again. "Poor Johnnie died in the night!"

she sobbed. "He couldn't talk to me! I tried! He couldn't get water! Oh, I want water! Give me a drink, Mrs. Kukor!"

Mrs. Kukor had risen as Cis talked, and Father Pat had come to her.

There was horror in the faces of both. Standing, his back against the hall door, Barber began to laugh at them. "Aw, bos.h.!.+" he said, disgusted. "Dead nothin'! He's in the big chair there. Plenty o' kick in him yet, and plenty o' meanness!"

His lips moving prayerfully, the priest turned and looked down, then lifted the longsh.o.r.eman's coat. As he caught sight of the rope-marked face and shut eyes of the boy, "Oh, little lad, dear!" he cried, heart stricken at the sight. "Oh, what's the crazy man done t' ye? Oh, G.o.d help us!"

Together, Father Pat and Mrs. Kukor brought out Johnnie's square of mattress, dropped it beside the morris chair, and laid the half-conscious boy upon it. Then kneeling beside him, one at each side, they began to rub the life back into his numbed limbs. "He's breathin', girl dear," the priest told Cis, who could not bring herself to look at Johnnie. Mrs. Kukor said not a word. But down the round, brown face the tears flowed steadily.

Having made a quick fire with kerosene and some kindling, Barber lounged at the stove, warming some milk for his father, setting his own coffee to boil, having a pull at his pipe, and keeping a scornful silence.

Grandpa's breakfast ready, he carried it into the bedroom and fed the old man. After that, shutting the bedroom door, he helped himself to a slice of bread and some dried-apple sauce. His manner said that a great fuss was being made in the kitchen over nothing.

It was Cis who spoke next--when Mrs. Kukor, leaving Johnnie for a little, came to bring the girl a drink, and bathe her face. "I'm never going to lie down in this place again, Mrs. Kukor," she declared. "I'm going to leave here this morning, and I'm never coming back--never! Can you brush my hair right now, please? Because I know Mr. Perkins will be here soon."

At that, Big Tom launched into a sneering laugh. "Oh, is that so?" he demanded. "Fine! I'd like t' see Perkins, all right!" His great shoulders shook, and a horrible leer distorted his hairy face.

The Father glanced up from where he was kneeling. "Ye itch t' make trouble, don't ye?" he charged. "When ye ought t' be thankful that this young woman has found such a good man for a husband. I've watched the Perkins lad pretty close. I've been t' see him, and he's called t' see me. And by ev'ry way that a man who's a priest can judge another man, I find no fault in him."

"Well, s'pose y' don't," answered Big Tom. "It jus' happens that _I_ do."

"Ye can't!" cried the other. "Not and be honest! Ye can't find fault where there isn't fault! Why, he served in France, and him far under age. And I'll ask ye, where was _yerself_ durin' the late War?

Supportin' a pensioned father, eh? And a girl that was earnin' her own livin'! And a boy who's never cost ye a cent!--Ah, don't answer me!

Don't stain yer soul with anny more falsehoods! Money's what's irkin'

ye--the girl's earnin's. They're more t' ye than her happiness, and a good home, and a grand husband!" Then to Johnnie, "Wee poet, won't ye wink a bright lash at the Father who loves ye?--or me heart'll split in two pieces!"

Johnnie sighed, and winked two bright lashes, whereupon the priest lifted the boy's head and gave him a sip from Cis's cup of water. "Aw, a drink o' tea'll fix _him_ all right," a.s.serted Barber. "He ain't half as bad off as he pretends."

"Don't talk t' me at all, Tom Barber!" commanded the priest. "For I've no temper for it as I look at the face and shoulders o' this lad that ye've whipped so cruel! Or at the girl that ye've tied up this whole long night!"

By now, Cis, wrapped in her own quilt, was combed and in the big chair, and was being plied with milk by Mrs. Kukor. She was out of pain now, and her concern was mostly for Johnnie. She watched him constantly, smiling down at him lovingly. And as he opened his eyes and looked back at her, she saw the stiff muscles of his face twist as if in a spasm, and at the sight of that twisting was frightened.