“O, I guess not. He has hedged. He got in with a deacon of another church, and sold some of his stock to him, and Pa says if I will keep my condemn mouth shut he will unload the whole of it, if the churches hold out. He goes to a new church every night there is prayer meeting or anything, and makes Ma go with him, to give him tone; and after meeting she talks with the sisters about how to piece a silk bed quilt, while Pa gets in his work selling silver stock. I don’t know but he will order some more stock from the factory, if he sells all he has got,” and the boy went on playing “There’s a land that is fairer than Day.”
“But what was he skipping up street for the other night with his hat off, grabbing at his coat tails as though they were on fire? I thought I never saw a pussy man run any faster. And what was the celebration down on your street about that time? I thought the world was coming to an end,” and the grocery man kept away from the boy, for fear he would explode.
“O, that was only a Fenian scare. Nothin’ serious. You see Pa is a sort of half Englishman. He claims to be an American citizen, when he wants office, but when they talk about a draft he claims to be a subject of Great Brit-tain, and he says they can’t touch him. Pa is a darn smart man, and don’t you forget it. There don’t any of them get ahead of Pa much. Well, Pa has said a good deal about the wicked Fenians, and that they ought to be pulled, and all that, and when I read the story in the papers about the explosion in the British Parliament Pa was hot. He said the damnirish was ruining the whole world. He didn’t dare say it at the table or our hired girl would have knocked him silly with a spoonful of mashed potatoes, ’cause she is a nirish girl, and she can lick any Englishman in this town. Pa said there ought to have been somebody thereto have taken that bomb up and throwed it in the sewer before it exploded. He said that if he ever should see a bomb he would grab it right up and throw it away where it wouldn’t hurt anybody. Pa has me read the papers to him nights, cause his eyes have got splinters in ‘em, and after I had read all there was in the paper I made up a lot more and pretended to read it, about how it was rumored that the Fenians here in Milwaukee were going to place dynamite bombs at every house where an Englishman lived, and at a given signal blow them all up. Pa looked pale around the gills, but he said he wasn’t scared.
“Pa and Ma were going to call on a she deacon that night, that has lots of money in the bank, to see if she didn’t want to invest in a dead sure paying silver mine, and me and my chum concluded to give them a send off. We got my big black injy rubber foot-ball, and painted ‘Dinymight’ in big white letters on it, and tied a piece of tarred rope to it for a fuse, and got a big fire cracker, one of those old fourth of July horse scarers, and a basket full of broken glass. We put the foot-ball in front of the step and lit the tarred rope, and got under the step with the firecrackers and basket, where they go down into the basement. Pa and Ma came out the front door, and down the steps, and Pa saw the football, and the burning fuse, and he said ‘Great God, Hanner, we are blowed up!’ and he started to run, and Ma she stopped to look at it. Just as Pa started to run I touched off the fire cracker, and my chum arranged it to pour out the broken glass on the brick pavement just as the fire cracker went off.”
“Well, everything went just as we expected, except Ma. She had examined the foot-ball, and concluded it was not dangerous, and was just giving it a kick as the firecracker went off, and the glass fell, and the firecracker was so near her that it scared her, and when Pa looked around Ma was flying across the sidewalk, and Pa heard the noise and he thought the house was blown to atoms. O, you’d a died to see him go around the corner. You could play crokay on his coat-tail, and his face was as pale as Ma’s when she goes to a party. But Ma didn’t scare much. As quick as she stopped against the hitching post she knew it was us boys, and she came down there, and maybe she didn’t maul me. I cried and tried to gain her sympathy by telling her the firecracker went off before it was due, and burned my eyebrows off, but she didn’t let up until I promised to go and find Pa.
“I tell you, my Ma ought to be engaged by the British government to hunt out the dynamite fiends. She would corral them in two minutes. If Pa had as much sand as Ma has got, it would be warm weather for me. Well, me and my chum went and headed Pa off or I guess he would be running yet. We got him up by the lake shore, and he wanted to know if the house fell down. He said he would leave it to me if he ever said anything against the Fenians, and I told him he had always claimed that the Fenians were the nicest men in the world, and it seemed to relieve him very much. When he got home and found the house there he was tickled, and when Ma called him an old bald-headed coward, and said it was only a joke of the boys with a foot ball, he laughed right out, and said he knew it all the time, and he ran to see if Ma would be scared. And then he wanted to hug me, but it wasn’t my night to hug and I went down to the theater. Pa don’t amount to much when there is trouble. The time Ma had them cramps, you remember, when you got your cucumbers first last season, Pa came near fainting away, and Ma said ever since they had been married when anything ailed her, Pa has had pains just the same as she has, only he grunted more, and thought he was going to die. Gosh, if I was a man I wouldn’t be sick every time one of the neighbors had a back ache, would you?
“Well you can’t tell. When you have been married twenty or thirty years you will know a good deal more than you do now. You think you know it all, now, and you are pretty intelligent for a boy that has been brought up carelessly, but there are things that you will learn after a while that will astonish you. But what ails your Pa’s teeth? The hired girl was over here to get some corn meal for gruel, and she said your Pa was gumming it, since he lost his teeth.”
“O, about the teeth. That was too bad. You see my chum has got a dog that is old, and his teeth have all come out in front, and this morning I borried Pa’s teeth before he got up, to see if we couldn’t fix them in the dog’s mouth, so he could eat better. Pa says it is an evidence of a kind heart for a boy to be good to dumb animals, but it is a darn mean dog that will go back on a friend. We tied the teeth in the dog’s mouth with a string that went around his upper jaw, and another around his under jaw, and you’d a dide to see how funny he looked when he laffed.
“He looked just like Pa when he tried to smile so as to get me to come up to him so he can lick me. The dog pawed his mouth a spell to get the teeth out, and then we gave him a bone with some meat on, and he began to gnaw the bone, and the teeth come off the plate, and he thought it was pieces of the bone, and he swallowed the teeth. My chum noticed it first, and he said we had got to get in our work pretty quick to save the plates, and I think we were in luck to save them. I held the dog, and my chum, who was better acquainted with him, untied the strings and got the gold plates out, but there were only two teeth left, and the dog was happy. He woggled his tail for more teeth, but we hadn’t any more. I am going to give him Ma’s teeth some day. My chum says when a dog gets an appetite for anything you have got to keep giving it to him or he goes back on you. But I think my chum played dirt on me. We sold the gold plates to a jewelry man, and my chum kept the money. I think, as long as I furnished the goods, he ought to have given me something besides the experience, don’t you? After this I don’t have no more partners, you bet.” All this time the boy was marking on a piece of paper, and soon after he went out the grocery man noticed a crowd outside, and on he found a sign hanging up which read:
WORMY FIGS FOR PARTIES.
CHAPTER VI.
HIS PA AN ORANGEMAN—THE GROCERY MAN SHAMEFULLY ABUSED—HE GETS HOT—BUTTER, OLEOMARGARINE AND AXLE GREASE—THE OLD MAN WEARS ORANGE ON ST. PATRICK’S DAY—HE HAS TO RUN FOR HIS LIFE—THE BAD BOY AT SUNDAY SCHOOL—INGERSOLL AND BEECHER VOTED OUT—“MARY HAD A LITTLE LAM.”
“Say, will you do me a favor,” asked the bad boy of the grocery man, as he sat down on the soap box and put his wet boots on the stove.
“Well, y-e-s,” said the grocery man hesitatingly, with a feeling that he was liable to be sold. “If you will help
me to catch the villain who hangs up those disreputable signs in front of my store, I will. What is it?”
“I want you to lick this stamp and put it on this letter. It is to my girl, and I want to fool her,” and the boy handed over the letter and stamp, and while the grocery man was licking it and putting it on, the boy filled his pockets with dried peaches out of a box.
“There, that’s a small job,” said the grocery man, as he pressed the stamp on the letter with his thumb and handed it back. “But how are you going to fool her?”
“That’s just business,” said the boy, as he held the letter to his nose and smelled of the stamp. “That will make her tired. You see, every time she gets a letter from me she kisses the stamp, because she thinks I licked it. When she kisses this stamp and gets the fumes of plug tobacco, and stale beer, and limburg cheese, and mouldy potatoes, it will knock her down, and then she will ask me what ailed the stamp, and I will tell her I got you to lick it, and then it will make her sick, and her parents will stop trading here. O, it will paralize her. Do you know, you smell like a glue factory. Gosh I can smell you all over the store, Don’t you smell anything that smells spoiled?” The grocery man thought he did smell something that was rancid, and he looked around the stove and finally kicked the boy’s boot off the stove and said, “It’s your boots burning. Gracious, open the door. It smells like a hot box on a caboose. Whew! And there comes a couple of my best lady customers.” The ladies came in and held their handkerchiefs to their noses, and while they were trading the boy said, as though continuing the conversation:
“Yes, Pa says that last oleomargarine I got here is nothing but axle grease. Why don’t you put your axle grease in a different kind of a package? The only way you can tell axle grease from oleomargarine is in spreading it on pancakes. Pa says axle grease will spread, but your alleged butter just rolls right up and acts like lip salve, or ointment, and is only fit to use on a sore—”
At this point the ladies went out of the store in disgust, without buying anything, and the grocery man took a dried codfish by the tail and went up to the boy and took him by the neck. “Golblast you, I have a notion to kill you. You have driven away more custom from this store than your neck is worth. Now you git,” and he struck the boy across the back with the codfish.
“That’s just the way with you all,” says the boy, as he put his sleeve up to his eyes and pretended to cry, “when a fellow is up in the world, there is nothing too good for him, but when he gets down, you maul him with a codfish. Since Pa drove me out of the house, and told me to go shirk for my living, I haven’t had a kind word from anybody. My chum’s dog won’t even follow me, and when a fellow gets so low down that a dog goes back on him there is nothing left for him to do but to loaf around a grocery, or sit on a jury, and I am too young to sit on a jury, though I know more than some of the beats that lay around the court to get on a jury. I am going to drown myself, and my death will be laid to you. They will find evidences of codfish on my clothing, and you will be arrested for driving me to a suicide’s grave. Good-bye. I forgive you,” and the boy started for the door.
“Hold on here,” says the grocery man, feeling that he had been too harsh, “Come back here and have some maple sugar. What did your Pa drive you away from home for?”
“O, it was on account of St. Patrick’s Day,” said the bad boy as he bit off half a pound of maple sugar, and dried his tears. “You see, Pa never sees Ma buy a new silk handkerchief, but he wants it. Tother day Ma got one of these orange-colored handkerchiefs, and Pa immediately had a sore throat and wanted to wear it, and Ma let him put it on. I thought I would break him of taking everything nice that Ma got, so when he went down town with the orange handkerchief on his neck, I told some of the St. Patrick boys in the Third ward, who had green ribbons on, that the old duffer that was putting on style was an orange-man, and he said he could whip any St. Patrick’s Day man in town. The fellers laid for Pa, and when he came along one of them threw a barrel at Pa, and another pulled the yellow handkerchief off his neck, and they all yelled ‘hang him,’ and one grabbed a rope that was on the sidewalk where they were moving a building, and Pa got up and dusted. You’d a dide to see Pa run. He met a policeman and said more’n a hundred men had tried to murder him, and they had mauled him and stolen his yellow handkerchief. The policeman told Pa his life was not safe, and he better go home and lock himself in, and he did, and I was telling Ma about how I got the boys to scare Pa, and he heard it, and he told me that settled it. He said I had caused him to run more foot races than any champion pedestrian, and had made his life unbearable, and now I must go it alone. Now I want you to send a couple of pounds of crackers over to the house, and have your boy tell the hired girl that I have gone down to the river to drown myself, and she will tell Ma, and Ma will tell Pa, and pretty soon you will see a bald headed pussy man whooping it up towards the river with a rope. They may think at times that I am a little tough, but when it comes to parting forever, they weaken.
“Well, the teacher at school says you are a hardened infidel,” said the grocery man, as he charged the crackers to the boy’s Pa. “He says he had to turn you out to keep you from ruining the morals of the other scholars. How was that?”
“It was about speaking a piece. When I asked him what I should speak, he told me to learn some speech of some great man, some lawyer or statesman, so I learned one of Bob Ingersoll’s speeches. Well, you’d a dide to see the teacher and the school committee, when I started in on Bob Ingersoll’s lecture, the one that was in the papers when Bob was here. You see I thought if a newspaper that all the pious folks takes in their families, could publish Ingersoll’s speech, it wouldn’t do any hurt for a poor little boy, who ain’t knee high to a giraffe, to speak it in school, but they made me dry up. The teacher is a republican, and when Ingersoll was speaking around here on politix, the time of the election, the teacher said Bob was the smartest man this country ever produced. I heard him say that in a corcus, when he went bumming around the ward settin’ ’em up nights specting to be superintendent of schools. He said Bob Ingersoll just took the cake, and I think it was darn mean in him to go back on Bob and me too, just cause there was no ‘lection. The school committee made the teacher stop me, and they asked me if I didn’t know any other piece to speak, and I told them I knew one of Beecher’s, and they let me go ahead, but it was one of Beecher’s new ones where he said he didn’t believe in any hell, and afore I got warmed up they said that was enough of that, and I had to wind up on “Mary had a Little Lam.” None of them didn’t kick on Mary’s Lam and I went through it, and they let me go home. That’s about the safest thing a boy can speak in school, now days, either “Mary had a Little Lam,” or “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” That’s about up to the average intelleck of the committee. But if a boy tries to branch out as a statesman, they choke him off. Well, I am going down to the river, and I will leave my coat and hat by the wood yard, and get behind the wood, and you steer Pa down there and you will see some tall weeping over them clothes, and maybe Pa will jump in after me, and then I will come out from behind the wood and throw in a board for him to swim ashore on. Good bye. Give my pocket comb to my chum,” and the boy went out and hung up a sign in front of the grocery, as follows:
POP CORN THAT THE CAT HAS SLEPT IN, CHEAP FOR POP CORN BALLS FOR SOCIABLES.
CHAPTER VII.
HIS MA DECEIVES HIM—THE BAD BOY IN SEARCH OF SAFFRON— “WELL, IT’S A GIRL IF YOU MUST KNOW”—THE BAD BOY IS GRIEVED AT HIS MA’S DECEPTION—“S-H-H TOOTSY GO TO SLEEP”—“BY LOW, BABY”—THAT SETTLED IT WITH THE CAT—A BABY! BAH! IT MAKES ME TIRED.
“Give me ten cents worth of saffron, quick,” said the bad boy to the grocery man, as he came in the grocery on a gallop, early one morning, with no collar on and no vest. He looked as though he had been routed out of bed in a hurry and had jumped into his pants and boots, and put on his coat and hat on the run.
“I don’t keep saffron,” said the grocery man as he picked up a barr
el of ax-handles the boy had tipped over in his hurry. “You want to go over to the drug store on the corner, if you want saffron. But what on earth is the mat—”
At this point the boy shot out of the door, tipping over a basket of white beans, and disappeared in the drug store. The grocery man got down on his knees on the sidewalk, and scooped up the beans, occasionally looking over to the drug store, and just as he got them picked up, the boy came out of the drug store and walked deliberately towards his home as though there was no particular hurry. The grocery man looked after him, took up an ax-handle, spit on his hands, and shouted to the boy to come over pretty soon, as he wanted to talk with him. The boy did not come to the grocery till towards night; but the grocery man had seen him running down town a dozen times during the day and once he rode up to the house with the doctor, and the grocer surmised what was the trouble. Along towards night the boy came in in a dejected sort of a tired way, sat down on a barrel of sugar, and never spoke.
“What is it, a boy or girl,” said the grocery man, winking at an old lady with a shawl over her head, who was trying to hold a paper over a pitcher of yeast with her thumb.
“How in blazes did you know anything about it?” said the boy, as he looked around in astonishment, and with some indignation. “Well, it’s a girl, if you must know, and that’s enough,” and he looked down at the cat playing on the floor with a potato, his face a picture of dejection.
“O, don’t feel bad about it,” said the grocery man, as he opened the door for the old lady. “Such things are bound to occur; but you take my word for it, that young one is going to have a hard life unless you mend your ways. You will be using it for a cork to a jug, or to wad a gun with, the first thing your Ma knows.”
“I wouldn’t touch the darn thing with the tongs,” said the boy, as he rallied enough to eat some crackers and cheese. “Gosh, this cheese tastes good. I hain’t had noth-to eat since morning. I have been all over this town trolling for nurses. They think a boy hasn’t got any feelings. But I wouldn’t care a goldarn, if Ma hadn’t been sending me for neuralgia medicine, and hay fever stuff all winter, when she wanted to get rid of me. I have come into the room lots of times when Ma and the sewing girl were at work on some flannel things, and Ma would hide them in a basket and send me off after medicine. I was deceived up to about four o clock this morning, when Pa come to my room and pulled me out of bed to go over on the West Side after some old woman that knew Ma, and they have kept me whooping ever since. What does a boy want of a sister, unless it is a big sister. I don’t want no sister that I have got to hold, and rock, and hold a bottle for. This affair breaks me all up,” and the boy picked the cheese out of his teeth with a sliver he cut from the counter.
The Peck's Bad Boy Megapack Page 16
