Spider pulled on an ear, and shook his head, frowning. “I d’no, Mouse. Don’t seem right rinchin’ a dipe in holy water.”
Duck gave a disgusted sigh. “Wot you got inside o’ that head o’ yers, Spider, ants runnin’ round? Wot’s holy ’bout it? Same basin wot the old man probable uses ter rinch out his mops. Mops is used ter mop the floor. You think as how rich people’s feet’s any cleaner ’n’ anyone else wot walks on the floor? They probable steps in dog poop like anyone else if they ain’t lookin’.Ain’t nobody said dog poop’s holy wot I ever heard ’bout.”
“Maybe,” said Spider, demolished.
“No maybe ’bout it,” said Duck, turning again to Robin. “Anyways, you c’n stay the night if it suits you,” he said indifferently.
“Th-thank you,” said Robin, faltering, for he was still having trouble taking in all that was happening.
“You ate anythin’ recent?” Duck asked him. Robin shook his head.
“Maybe that’s why he folded,” Mouse said. “We got that end o’ sausich an’ some bread still. Anybody cares if I give it ter’ ’im?”
Nobody appeared to care, so Mouse went over to the front wall, rummaged around in a cardboard box and carried back in his hands the sausage and a chunk of bread, both of which he thrust unceremoniously at Robin.
“Thank you very much,” said Robin, hungrily taking a big bite of the sausage. Nothing had ever tasted so good to him, and it was, in truth, a very good quality of sausage. He wondered how the boys had come by it. Stolen, without doubt.
“Maybe he’d like some water,” Spider said. “I’ll take a cup an’ go git ’im some.”
“You mean some o’ that holy water wot’s been blessed by the pope?” said Duck, exchanging grins with Mouse.
“Aw, shut up!” said Spider, turning red to the tips of his ears. He lit a candle and went stumping from the room.
“Yeah, you had better shut up,” Piggy said in a low voice. “The baby’s eyes is gettin’ heavy, an’ he’s goin’ back ter sleep. Mouse, you come git ’im and lay ’im over on that nest o’ rags in the corner out o’ the light.”
Mouse gently picked up Danny from Piggy’s arms and laid him down on the rags. By then Spider was already coming through the door with the cup of water. Then the boys all dropped down around Robin, waiting until he had drained the cup.
“Cornsider yerself blessed,” Duck said, casting another wicked grin in Mouse’s direction. “An’ now maybe you’d like ter tell us wot yer doin’ here with that baby wot you say’s yer brother.”
Robin looked nervously from one boy to the next—street boys. He had seen how they teased one another. What would they have to say to his plan to leave Danny on the steps of the church in the hope that some wealthy family would take him home and care for him? How could they know, or care, how desperate he was to have come up with such a plan?
“We’re waitin’,” said Duck.
Robin gulped. He felt he had no choice but to make up some acceptable lie, but for his life he could think of none. He would just have to tell the truth.
“I … I … I was going to leave him on the church steps in the morning and … and … and …” Robin stopped, trying to find the courage to go on.
“You was goin’ ter leave him on the steps,” Piggy went on for him quite matter of factly, “figgerin’ as how someone wot got lots o’ money would see wot a nice baby he were, and take ’im home. Ain’t that so?”
Robin nodded. “But … but I was going to find out who took him,” he blurted. “Then I would go and beg them to let me see him sometimes. I couldn’t … I couldn’t bear it never to see him again.”
“Nobody’s goin’ ter pick ’im up,” said Mouse. “It don’t even work when you take babies and leave ’em right on the doorstep o’ rich people’s houses. Me ma had thoughts o’ it til she found out wot happens ter them babies wot gits left on doorsteps.”
“Rich people got their own babies,” Duck broke in. “They don’t want none wot come from the tenements. Nex’ mornin’ after the baby gits left, he gits took ter the police station. It spends a cozy night there, then gits took ter a infants’ hospital off on an islan’ someplace. Don’t last long there neither. Not ’cause it gits took someplace else, but ’cause it dies, makin’ room fer the nex’ one. So wot you goin’ ter do next?”
What Robin was going to do next was throw his hands to his face to hide the tears that had flooded his eyes. Crying in front of street boys! Sure death! But his life was no longer worth much anyway. His only hope for saving Danny had just been snatched away from him. Running away had indeed been madness. There was nothing left for him but to return to Hawker Doak. Let these street boys tease and taunt him. What difference did it make now?
And then he felt a grimy, torn rag poked into his hands.
“Did yer ma send you ter do it?” Duck asked. His voice was perfectly flat, no hint of teasing or taunting in it.
Robin shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the rag. “She’s dead,” he mumbled into it.
“Wot ’bout yer pa?” asked Spider.
Robin looked up from the rag. “He died a year ago.”
“So you been livin’ by yerself with yer brother?” asked Piggy.
“No,” replied Robin. “We were with my stepfather.”
“Were he the one wot sent you ter leave yer brother on the church steps?” asked Duck. Robin shook his head again. “It … it was my idea.”
Piggy frowned. “An’ he never done nothin’ ’bout stoppin’ you?”
“He never knew I was going to do it,” said Robin. “He doesn’t even know I’ve gone. I … I … I’m running away from him.”
The boys all looked at one another. “Were he hittin’ you?” Mouse asked.
Robin nodded. “But that wasn’t why I was running away. It was because I saw he was going to hit my baby brother. I snatched him away, but what if I wasn’t there next time? Next time he might be killed.”
“An’ he ain’t got no ma ter pertect ’im neither,” said Spider.
“So wot you goin’ ter do?” Mouse asked.
Robin shrugged. “Go back to him, I guess. He’s sending me to the factories. I’m eleven, but he’s making me lie and say I’m fourteen. My brother gets put in a baby farm. I expect he’ll die there if my stepfather doesn’t kill him. It’s … it’s murder either way.”
“You said as how yer step-pa hits you?” Duck asked. “Did he hit you hard?”
Robin nodded.
“If you got bruises ter prove it, why not you show us?” said Duck.
“Why’d you want ’im ter do that, Duck?” Spider asked.
“Prove he’s not lyin’,” said Duck.
“Wot do we care?” Mouse said. “He’s only stayin’ the night.”
“I’d jist like ter know,” Duck said. He gave Robin a narrow-eyed look. “C’mon, show us!”
Robin agreed with Mouse. What difference did it make if he had bruises or not? But Duck appeared to be the ringleader of this batch of street boys, and could send Robin back out into the chilling night with Danny, to make his way back to Hawker Doak. Robin threw off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then he started to peel off his shirt.
“All right!” Duck said quickly. “You don’t got ter go no further. If yer willin’ ter show ’em, then you must got ’em. But now I’m arskin’ you ter take yerself out inter the hallway and close the door behin’ you. I got ter have a meetin’ with me friends here.”
“The friends” looked as puzzled as Robin felt as he trailed into the hallway and closed the door. But he was ready to do anything asked of him as long as he could stay the rest of the night, and Danny was not in danger. And who knew but what in the morning with his mind clearer, he might have some new idea as to where he and Danny could go that was not back to Hawker.
But the longer Robin stood outside the door in the dark hall, the more he began to think about a new worry. Street boys were pickpockets and thieves, were they not? And there was h
is jacket lying on the floor in that room without its owner inside it. The two dollars and fifty cents could disappear. The pin and locked could disappear, so if he had to go back to Hawker, they could not be secretly returned to the drawer. And the treasured nickel watch that belonged to his papa could also disappear. It seemed an eternity before the door opened and he was invited back into the candlelit room.
Piggy, Mouse, and Spider were staring at him with curious half grins on their faces. Duck, on the other hand, looked deadly serious.
“Seen yer eyes flippin’ over ter yer jacket,” he said. “But you don’t got ter worry none. Wotever you got in it ain’t been touched. We don’t steal no more, an’ we especial don’t steal from someone wot’s one o’ us. An’ we believes now as how yer that. We never knowed fer certain. You talk better’n us, an’ you ain’t near so raggy lookin’. It’s why I had to arsk you ’bout them bruises. Wanted ter prove you wasn’t lyin’ ’bout nothin’. An’ we all b’lieves as you wasn’t. So, at our meetin’ I arsked everyone ter put up a hand if they wanted ter arsk you ter join up with us, an’ everyone put up their hand. So now I’m arskin’ you.”
Robin’s knees felt weak. Most of his life he had dreaded and feared street boys. Now, just when he so desperately needed to find a home for himself and Danny, it was street boys who were offering him one.
“But … but what about my baby brother?” he stammered faintly.
“All been figgered out,” said Piggy, now producing a fullfledged, ear-to-ear grin. “Ought we ter tell him now, Duck?”
“Aw, it’s gittin’ late,” Duck said. “We better wait ’til mornin’. But he ain’t yet said if he’s joinin’ up with us. So, is you, or ain’t you?” he asked Robin.
Robin did not wait to draw another breath. “I am,” he said simply. “But you ain’t even telled yer name,” Mouse said. “You got a name, aint’ you?”
Robin hesitated. Should he lie and invent something? After all, remember what Hawker’s friend Maggot had said, how he had better start calling himself something else just for protection? But then Robin thought of what his papa always used to say. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” So go ahead and give his real name. Let the boys laugh and get it over wth.
“It’s Robin,” he said, as defiantly as he dared. Nobody even snickered.
“It’s the name o’ some kind o’ bird, ain’t it?” said Piggy.
“It’s nice,” mused Spider. “We all got a kind o’ animal name, an’ now we got ’nother one.”
“Spider ain’t a animal,” said Piggy.
“Closer’n some,” said Spider. “But wot ’bout the baby. Wot’s ’is name?”
“It’s not any kind of animal,” replied Robin. “It’s just Danny.”
“Don’t matter none,” said Mouse. “We’ll jist pertend there’s a bird wot got the name o’ Danny.”
“Danny the bird wot come ter live with us at St. Somethin’,” said Piggy, yawning hugely, for the hour was late indeed.
The yawn was contagious, and the rest all followed suit.
“But … but what’s St. Something?” asked Robin.
Duck looked at him sleepily and yawned again. “It’s where yer at, Robin. Wot did you think? Yer bed’s anywheres on the floor where there ain’t somebody else. You already got your pillow.”
Duck collapsed on the floor where the other boys were already curled up on their rag pillows, and reached over to snuff out the candle.
“G’night!” he said.
“G’night!” chorused Piggy, Spider, and Mouse.
Conversation for the night was clearly over. If Robin was to learn anything more, it was going to have to wait until morning. But everything had happened so suddenly, and then ended so abruptly, his head was still spinning when he lay down. In one day he had become a thief, liar, and runaway. But most unbelievably of all, in less than a heartbeat it seemed, he had become a street boy. And he had the feeling there would be a great deal more to learn about that. Oh yes, a great deal more indeed!
Chapter VII
Duck’s Tale
Nobody was very cheerful about Danny waking them up in the morning, soaking wet and screaming for his breakfast. The only one who did not appear to mind as much as the others was Piggy. He quickly retrieved a clean diaper and the remaining bottle of milk from Robin’s shopping bag, and scuttled over as fast as his twisted leg could carry him to relieve Danny’s misery.
Robin, having spent his first night with nothing between himself and a rock-hard floor, and with recent events whirling in his brain, had managed to get little sleep. In truth, he had only fallen asleep a short time before Danny issued his loud demand for attention. He only manged to stumble over to him as Piggy was already removing his sodden diaper.
“I’ll take it over, Piggy,” he said uncomfortably. “You don’t need to do it.”
“I don’t mind none. You’ll git yer chance. You c’n tend ter this, an’ one here from las’ night, an’ the dirty bottle,” Piggy said, waving the wet diapers at Robin. “You c’n rinch ’em out when you goes ter the terlit. Looks like the rest o’ the boys is now goin’, so they’ll show you where it’s at. You c’n take over when you git back, an’ I’ll git my terlit turn.”
So Robin joined the three other boys, all yawning and rubbing their eyes, in a parade led by Mouse, who was holding the fluttering candle. A candle was, of course, needed, for the hallway was as dark in the daytime as it had been at night. The parade ended at what Mouse informed Robin was “the room wot had the terlit.” After they had all had their turns at this particular accomodation, the other two returned to their rooms, while Mouse held the candle for Robin to take care of Danny’s laundry with a cake of soap found at the sink. As he scrubbed, Mouse continued with his guided tour.
“Where the ol’ geezer wot takes care o’ down here an’, we supposes, some o’ the cleanin’ upstairs, keeps ’is mops an’ buckets,” said Mouse, jerking his head at the other door farther down the hallway. “He got a small gas burner an’ a ol’ kettle wot he owns ter make tea for hisself. People here got ter be richer’n sin, puttin’ all this stuff in wot’s no more’n the bleedin’ cellar. Better’n nothin’ any o’ us ever knowed.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll discover you living down here?” asked Robin, squeezing the water from the diapers.
“Ain’t yet. Course we ain’t been here but a couple o’ days,” replied Mouse, as they started back down the hallway. “But we ain’t worried none. He’s deafer’n a door post. Got only one eye wot works, an’ ’pears as how that ain’t none too good. We knowed that ’fore we moved in when Duck seed him talkin’ ter someone outside.”
Just what Duck had seen, Robin would have to wait to hear, because they had now arrived back at their room, where Piggy was waiting to hand Danny over to him.
“You c’n hang the dipes over there on them chair legs,” said Piggy, pointing to four chairs, each with only three remaining legs and holes punched in their cane seats, all turned upside down in a corner of the room. A pile of rags lay under the chairs.
Morning light now coming through the small window high in the wall also fell on the cardboard box that had held the sausage and bread, three wood boxes no more than a foot tall with brushes and rags stuffed in them, four mismatched cups, with broken handles, four mismatched, chipped plates, and a saucepan, a blackened, impossibly dented affair that could only have been salvaged from some city dump. But these items, all lined up neatly against the wall, gave every evidence that the boys had set up housekeeping there in earnest.
What very nearly brought tears to Robin’s eyes, however, was the sight of the tiny tin spoon and bowl, and four empty baby bottles lined up along with the rest. This was as good as any other promise the boys could have made, that Danny was here to stay. And so, for that matter, was his big brother!
“Wot we got ter eat, Mouse?” Duck asked. “Got any o’ that sausich left?”
“Aw, don’t go eatin’ when I ain’t back yet,” complained Pigg
y. “You all seed I were feedin’ Danny an’ ain’t been ter the terlit. ’Sides, nobody as wot I c’n see took the saucepot ter git the drinkin’ water.”
“Git goin’ and stop mewlin’ ’bout it, Piggy. We ain’t even set the table yet. We’ll wait fer you an’ the holy water,” Duck said with a grin. It did look as if that joke was not going to die in a hurry.
Mouse, in the meantime, was rummaging around inside the cardboard box. “Yeah, we got ’nother lump o’ sausich,” he said. “Got some bread. Got a couple o’ apples left.”
“Them with all the worm holes?” asked Spider, wrinkling his nose.
“We an’t never had no other kind, jackass,” replied Mouse proudly. “You c’n spit out the worms like we always done.”
This kind of conversation continued for a round or two before they were all seated on the floor in a circle, including the by-now-returned Piggy. Danny was already asleep peacefully on his rag cot. In front of the boys were the ragged assortment of cups and saucers, and in the center of the “table,” set on a scrap of brown paper, were the sausage, bread, apples, and a bent knife about as black as the saucepan.
“I’ll share a cup an’ plate with Robin,” Spider said, as Duck cut chunks of sausage with the unwieldy knife, and passed them around.
“Don’t ’spect good eats like this here every time,” Duck said as he handed Robin his chunk of sausage. “This here’s bought special ’cause we was havin’ a party ’bout movin’ here. Never ate nothin’ like sausich when we was livin’ under the pier. Had mostly bread. Taters when we was lucky. If we c’d git a fire goin’, we cooked ’em in the saucepot.”
“Jist like we c’n cook ’em here on the gas burner,” said Spider. “We c’n cook here jist ’bout any ol’ time, an’ jist ’bout any ol’ thing we want. Even make usselves a cup o’ tea when we git a rainy day,” he ended dreamily.
Secret in St. Something Page 5
