CHAPTER XIX
A KNOT IN THE THREAD
It was afternoon of the next day. Mary's kitchen was in its customarytrim perfection, so far as Mary could make it so. She had scrubbed andpolished all the morning, determined to remove every trace of thehateful doings of the night before. Such actions going on in herkitchen! Real _bad folks_ there, and policemen, and all! Of course theroom needed cleaning; it stood to reason. One trace, however, could notbe scrubbed or polished away. It would need more than brush and mop tomend that plaster, cracked and starred where the savage blow had struckit. Mary, gazing at it over her broom, found herself suddenly sobbing,the tears running down her cheek.
"He would have been killed!" she murmured. "But for being so quick, hewould have been killed. _My soul!_ Oh, I thank the Lord for saving him.I do thank Him!"
But that was morning. Now, as I said, it was afternoon, and Mary, in herafternoon apron with its saucy pockets and bewildering blue ribbons, wasputting away the newly washed luncheon dishes. Pippin had helped herwash them; he would not take no for an answer. Coming a little early forhis promised talk with the Elder, he had found Mary still at work, inblue pinafore, and had taken a hand as a matter of course. They werevery silent at first over the dishes. Both were shaken by the events ofthe night. Pippin still felt the theft of the blue ribbon heavy on hissoul. Mary, stealing glances at him under her eyelashes, saw again theflash of the brass knuckles; saw--in thought only, thank God! Oh, allher life she would be thanking God--the bright face all crushed andshattered--
She gave a little scream under her breath, lifting her head quickly.Pippin stooped at the same moment to set down a dish, and their headscame together smartly. This brought laughter, and thereafter things wentmuch better. They talked--of trivial things, to be sure, the weather,and crockery, and hardware. Both instinctively avoided the depths, butsomehow each found an astonishing quality in the mere sound of theother's voice, something soothing, cheering, uplifting, all at once. Sothe dishwashing was a singularly pleasant little ceremony, only tooshort, Pippin thought. Seemed a pity folks didn't eat more. He would nothear of Mary's leaving the kitchen when Mr. Hadley came. The idea! Hehad nothing to say but he'd say it better for her bein' there; nor wouldhe accept Mrs. Aymer's kindly proffer of the parlor. Full as muchobliged to her, but--he looked appealingly at the chaplain, who laughedoutright.
"We shall both be more comfortable in the kitchen, Lucy!" he said. "Comeon, Pippin!"
So there they were, Pippin and his best friend, sitting by the tablewith its bright afternoon cloth of Turkey red, talking, listening,talking again; the elder man sitting with his head on his hand, hiselbow on the table, in the attitude we all remember, the younger bendingeagerly forward, hands on knees, face alight with happiness.
"No!" Pippin was saying. "You don't tell me Pete is pardoned out. Well,that does sound good to me. Old Pete! Green grass! Well, he's airned it,Pete has. And what's he goin' to do, Elder? Pete's no chicken by now!"
"Going back to lobstering. Some friends have bought back his boat forhim"--some friends indeed! Lawrence Hadley, where is that new suit youwere going to buy without fail this summer? You still have on the oldone, white at the seams, threadbare at the cuffs!--"and he and Tom aregoing into partnership."
"Tom out too? Great! That surely is great, Elder."
"Yes, Tom is out, on parole; but we shall never see him back, I am sure.I took your advice, Pippin, gave him the money test, and he rose to itat once. You were right. He needed some one to trust him, and to showthat he trusted him."
"You bet he did!" Pippin sprang up, and began pacing the room withlight, eager steps. "You bet he did, and you done it! Green grass! Iwould say glory to God! And he found the Lord? Did Tom find the Lord,Elder? He couldn't help but, with you showin' him!"
"Why--" the chaplain paused, and a twinkle crept into his blue eyes, "Ithink he did, Pippin, but not just in the way you mean. The Lord hasmany ways, and everybody cannot be an evangelist, and go singing andpraying about the country as I understand you do."
Pippin's eyes were very large and round.
"Sure I do! What else would I? The Lord give me the voice, didn't He?Behooves me praise Him with it; that's right, ain't it, Elder? Or ain'tit? Have I took too much upon me? Say the word, and--"
"Perfectly right! Perfectly right, Pippin! Sing all you possibly can.But Tom cannot sing, and, if you ask me, I think he would make a verypoor hand at praying; but he's a good fellow for all that. It's goodhonest work he's going to do, too; pleasant work. I'd like to golobstering myself for a change!"
"You wouldn't! Not with all that mess of cold water heavin' up round youall the time--honest, Elder! I never was in a boat in my life, and Inever hope to be."
The chaplain sighed and smiled. The sea had been his life dream. It camebefore him now, blue, alluring, mysterious--he brushed it away, and badePippin sit down.
"You've had your innings," he said, "and I've told you all I'm going to;now it's your turn to tell me, young man. How comes it that you are backin the city, Pippin? Didn't I warn you against it? Didn't I tell you youwere sure to get into trouble if you came back?"
Pippin sat down and drew out his file.
"You sure did, Elder! and I never meant to set foot in the darned hole,honest I never! But look the way things come round! I had to, hadn't I?I just fair had to! I wrote you about that, didn't I?"
"No! You wrote me that you had found the dandyest place that ever was,and that you wanted to fill it plumb up with boys and bring them upclean and straight, and that you were going to do it soon as ever youhad finished the job you had on hand, but you didn't say what the jobwas, and you didn't say that it would be bringing you back to the lastplace in the world where you ought to be."
"Is that so?" Pippin ran the file through his hair anxiously. "Now whata lunkhead I be! I sure thought I told you, Elder. Why--well, anyways,I'll tell you now. Why, 'twas at that place, Cyrus Poor Farm--it _is_ adandy place, now I want you should understand that; and the dandyestfolks in it ever _I_ see--almost!" His eye caught the flutter of blueribbons as Mary entered after hanging out her dish towels. "And--why,'twas there I found the Old Man, and made him the promise. He's on theblink, you see; in poor shape the Old Man is, and no mistake; and hewants to see his little gal before he goes--well, wherever he _is_goin'. His little gal, you understand, Elder; his kid, the only kid heever had, I presume. Mother took her away from him--I'm sure no one canblame her for that--but--well, she's woman grown now, and he's never seteyes on her since she was a kid. Now wouldn't that give you a pain,Elder? He's a rip from Riptown, and he's never done a cent's worth ofgood that I know of; but there 'tis! And he plead with me, plead realpitiful, I'd find his little gal for him. What would you done, Elder? Ilooked for grace in him, honest I did, and I couldn't find one smitch,no sir! not one single, solitary smitch, till--what I mean--till--till Isee how bad he wanted his little gal; and I thought mebbe that was theway it took him--you get me, Elder?"
"I get you, Pippin! Go on!"
"And--and mebbe if I could find the kid--I can't help but call her akid, though she's a woman now, if she's alive--if I could take that kidto him, he might--get me?--might find the Lord through the lot he set byher. I ain't puttin' it the right way, but--"
Pippin paused, and his eyes finished the sentence.
"Perfectly clear, Pippin, perfectly clear; I haven't a word to say. Youdid right. But who is this old man? You speak as if it were some one Iknew, yet you wrote me that Nipper Crewe died. What old man is this?"
Pippin stared.
"Ain't I tellin' you? Old Man Blossom! It's him, and it's his littleMay--"
_Crash!_ Both men sprang to their feet. Mary-in-the-kitchen had droppeda plate, the first thing she had broken since she entered the Aymers'service. She stooped hastily to gather up the fragments. Pippin ran tohelp her, but she motioned him away, hastily, almost rudely. No, shethanked him--she was just as much obliged--she thought she could fit thepieces together. She didn't know what made her
so careless--here shesuddenly dropped the pieces again on the floor and ran out of the roomand up the stairs.
"Green grass!" said Pippin. "Now wouldn't that give you a pain? Just oneplate, and hurt her feelin's like that! They're so delicate in theirfeelin's, ladies is. Gee! 'Member when I fell downstairs with the wholeof A corridor's dishes, Elder? Now _that_ was some smash, it sure was!"
In her own room, standing at the window with wide eyes that staring outyet saw nothing, Mary Blossom wrestled through her dark hour alone.This, then, was what it all meant. This was what had brought him toBlankboro, the bright-eyed singer with his wheel. He was looking forher. That--that man--had sent him to hunt her down, to drag her from hersafe, happy, respectable home, to drag her back to him where he lay, ina poorhouse, suffering a little--oh, a very, _very_ little--of what hermother had suffered through him. After all these years, when she had allbut--not forgotten mother; never! never! she broke into wild sobbing andcrying--but forgotten him, and the shame, and misery, the cold, hunger,nakedness that he stood for. After all these years he had reached outthat palsied, shaking hand and laid it on her. Or tried to! Mary stoodstill, and let the tide of feeling surge through and through her. Grief,resentment, resistance. Back and forth it flowed, till from its surge athought was cast up. _No one knew._ He, Pippin, did not know; neverwould know, unless she told him. Why--should--she--tell him? Noone--except Mrs. Appleby, of course; she knew, but she would keep itclose. They never told a girl's past at the Home, unless there wasreason; unless she was adopted, or--or married, or the like of that.Even Mrs. Aymer knew no more than that she came well recommended. (Buthere Mary was mistaken: Lucy Aymer knew all about it.) She had had anote from Mrs. Appleby, asking her to come to the Home on her firstafternoon out, and she would. She would tell that kind, motherly friendabout--about--
The wild tides stopped racing. Her eyes dropped. What should she tellMrs. Appleby about Pippin?
Straightway his figure rose before her. His eyes, dark, bright, glowing,looked into hers; she forgot Mrs. Appleby. What was it he was saying?
"He plead with me; plead real pitiful, I'd find his little gal for him.What would you done, Elder?"
She knew what he had done himself. He had left everything, he, astranger--that is, one that had been a sinner--and come back where heknew there was danger for him, to look for the child of an old rascalwho was nothing to him. That was what Pippin had done; and she, the oldman's child--
New waves this time, Mary! Hot waves of shame and contrition, sweepingresistless through you, driving grief and anger and resistance away intothe nothingness of past emotion.
Long she stood there motionless, still staring with unseeing eyes. Atlast she heaved a long, sobbing sigh. She would be good. God make her agood girl. She would try.
What was it he had said the other night, when he told her that strangething about the Bible in his room, about the rules of some queer Societyor other? She heard his laugh ring out clear and joyous, saw his headthrown back.
"Honest, Miss Mary, I'll never forget the Gideons. Why, since thatnight, if ever anything gets me riled up, I take and read 13thCorinthians. Then I'll say to myself, 'Have you give all your goods tofeed the poor?' I'll say, 'Have you give your body to be burned? Well,then, dry up!'"
Mary laughed, a little broken laugh with tears in it.
"I certainly haven't given my body to be burned!" she said.
Half an hour later, a composed and cheerful Mary came quietly down theback stairs to the kitchen. The traces of tears were nearly gone; coldwater can do much in that way. A Mary-in-the-parlor might have blottedthem out with powder, but Mary-in-the-kitchen had never used powder inher clean, wholesome, scientific-general life. Her eyes merely lookedrather larger than usual, and the long lashes were still curling fromthe water. She was not smiling yet, but she was ready to smile when shemet the eyes of her friend. How they would flash when she told him, whenhe learned that his search was over, that she was Mary Blossom, that shewould go back with him, to do what duty and kindness could do! How hewould spring up--
So coming lightly down to the door, she paused a moment, not to listen,just to make sure she was not interrupting anything private. Pippin wasstill leaning forward, light, alert, as if even sitting he felt thewings on his ankles; he was looking at his friend, with a glance halftimid, half whimsical.
"You see, Elder," he said, "I _ain't_ exactly alone, like you think.You're right about it's bein' poor dope for a guy to live all byhimself, but lemme tell you! I've got--what I would say is--well, I'vegot a family of my own a'ready--kind of! Not what you'd call a _reg'lar_family, but yet they're dandy, sir, they are so! Lemme tell you! I nevertold a soul about 'em, but--"
I have described the Mary who came down the stairs; it was a differentMary who confronted Pippin as, turning his head, he saw her and sprangto his feet. Marble white, with a blind dazed look, as if she had beenstruck in the face, the girl stood motionless.
"_My soul!_" cried Pippin. "What's the matter, Miss Mary?"
"What has happened, Mary?" Mr. Hadley had risen, too; both men stoodlooking at her in concern. Had she struck her head against something?the chaplain asked anxiously.
Mary was very well, she thanked Mr. Hadley; she had a little headache,that was all. She kept her eyes fixed on the chaplain, not even glancingat Pippin.
"I came," she said, "to tell you--Mr. Hadley, I heard what--what theyoung man was saying, and I came to tell you. I am Mary Blossom. It's mehe is looking for."
"_You!_" Pippin sprang forward, with a shout that rang through thehouse. "You, Miss Flower!"
"My mother gave me the name of Flower when I went to the Home!" Maryspoke quickly and steadily, her eyes still fixed on those kind blue onesthat always seemed to know what you were going to say before you saidit. "She didn't want my father to find me; I didn't either. Hewas--he--never mind!" she hurried on. "But I am Mary Blossom, and I willgo to see my--father, and try to do my duty by him." She paused. "That'sall!" she said, and turned, still with that blind, stricken look, as ifto leave the room.
"Stay, Mary!" Mr. Hadley took her hand gently. "No wonder you arebewildered, my child. Sit down, won't you? Let us talk it over. This iswonderful news, indeed!"
"I guess it is!" Pippin had found words at last. "Miss Mary--I--I amclean dumbfoundered, I guess. You! You, little May Blossom that I usedto play with, back there in the lane? Well, if ever there was adunderhead in this world it's me, it sure is. Green grass--I would say,Glory to God! Why, little May! Why, of course it is! Why, look at thecolor of her hair, will you? Just like he said it was, color of ayearlin' heifer! And--did ever you see a bonehead, Elder? 'Cause you seeone now. May Blossom!" He moved nearer, and held out both hands with anappealing gesture. "Look at me, won't you? Look at Pippin! Don't yourec'lect how we'd play together? You couldn't say my name plain atfirst. 'Pittin!' you'd say. 'Pippin!' I'd say. 'Say Pippin, kiddy!' andyou says--I can hear you now--'Pip-_pin!_' you says; andthen--what--what's the matter, Miss--Miss Mary? You ain't mad with me,are you?" He faltered into silence.
Mary's eyes still clung to the chaplain's desperately.
"You must excuse me!" she said. Her voice trembled; she shook as if withcold. "I--my head aches; I must go back--"
"Yes, my dear!--go up and lie down!" said the kindly chaplain. "Take agood rest! I'll tell Mrs. Aymer you are not well."
He led her to the stairs, saw her totter up, feeling her way, watchedtill the door closed behind her, then turned to comfort as best he mighta distracted Pippin who stood motionless, gazing with a stricken look atthe door through which Mary had disappeared. As the chaplain advancedwith outstretched hand, he turned bewildered eyes on him. "What--what'sthe matter?" he faltered. "What did I do? She wouldn't speak to me,Elder! she wouldn't look at me! She--gorry to 'Liza, she's mad with me!"
"No, no, Pippin!" The chaplain, puzzled himself, laid a kindly hand onthe broad shoulder that was shaking like a frightened child's. "She hasa headache, and she very likely didn't sleep last night. I don't be
lieveyou slept either; go home, now, like a good chap, and go to bed. Butstay! First tell me about this family; what on earth do you mean--hey?"
But Pippin shook his head.
"Not now! I couldn't tell you about 'em now! To-morrow I will, Elder.I--I guess I'll go now, sir! I thank you--" He broke off suddenly, withsomething like a sob, wrung his friend's hand hard, then went outdrooping, like a broken thing.
"Dear me, sirs!" said Lawrence Hadley.
* * * * *
Pippin did not go to bed. He had had little sleep for several nights;this last night he had had none. Excitement and emotion had run riotthrough him for twenty-four hours, and for the first time in his life hehad turned from his food. These things, added to the lightning stroke ofMary's revelation and the strangeness of her manner in making it,brought about a condition which Pippin failed to recognize or tounderstand. His head seemed to whirl; his knees felt "like they waswater in 'em"; black specks danced before his eyes. He was dead tired,and did not know it. Puzzled and bewildered, his simple mind fallenapart, as it were, into incongruous fragments; asking over and overagain how and why, and again why and how. Deaf for once to the kindlyvoices of the creatures of his own brain, which had cheered andcompanioned him through these past months, he ranged the fields like ahunted animal; finally, long after nightfall, he sought his poor roomand dropped exhausted on his bed. Here, as he sat with drooping head andhanging arms, sleep fell upon him like a mantle of lead, yet hestruggled against it. He was all wrong inside, he now confided to "Ma"whom he seemed to feel once more beside him. "I'm all wrong!" herepeated. "It's like sin, or somethin', was gnawin' at me. I will--"Pippin struggled to his feet and made his little birch-tree bow, butvery wearily, as if the tree had been beaten by tempests, "I will praisethe Lord a spell before now I lay me down to sleep."
Why, even his voice was going back on him. At the strange, husky sound,his heart grew cold within him.
"My God!" he muttered. "What's this? Has Satan got a-holt of me?"
Clearing his throat violently, he summoned all his strength, and thegreat voice broke out like a silver trumpet:
"Throw out the life line across the dark wave, There is a brother whom someone should save; Somebody's brother! Oh, who, then, will dare To throw out the life line, his peril to share?"
Thump! thump came the unmistakable sound of an angry boot on the wall.
"Shut up!" cried an exasperated voice. "Shut up, you darned gospelshark!"
Pippin stopped dead; his eyes blazed; molten flames coursed through hisveins. He darted out of his own door and grasped the handle of the nextone. It was locked, but that meant nothing to Pippin the Kid. Onedexterous turn of Mrs. Baxter's hairpin (a dandy tool for light work,sure!) and the door flew open.
Mr. Joseph Johnson was a stonemason, and worked hard all day. He neededhis sleep, and was not of mystic or dramatic temperament; it was,therefore, perhaps hardly strange that he was annoyed byvehement-tuneful demands for a life line at nine o'clock o' night. Atall events, he was just bending forward to deliver another thump on thewall when, as has been said, the door flew open, and to him entered alightly clad bronze statue, its arm outstretched, its eyes dartingflames.
"Say!" cried the statue; "who are you that can't hear the Lord praised aspell? Who are you to stop a man in the middle of his song? Darn yourhide! If you can't sing yourself, be thankful other folks can; you hearme? Have you said your prayers to-night? You never! Down you go!"
Mr. Johnson found himself suddenly on his knees, the statue, kneelingalso, holding him tightly by the shirt collar. A short, sharp injunctionwas issued to Deity.
"O Lord, you make this man behave; he don't know how, no way, shape, ormanner. Amen!
"_Now!_" Pippin rose, towering seven feet high, Mr. Johnson told thescandalized landlady next day. "Let me hear another word out of you!"
Mr. Johnson remaining discreetly silent, Pippin, after glaring at him aminute, dropped his fiery crest.
"Good-night, brother!" he said meekly. "I'm sorry if I spoke harsh.Pleasant dreams to you!"
Pippin; A Wandering Flame Page 19
