Lifted Masks Part 22

The tone brought the blood to Stubby's face. "I think I got a right to," he said, his voice low.

The man's face, which had been taunting, grew ugly. "Look a-here, young man, none o' your lip!"

The tears rushed to Stubby's eyes but he stumbled on: "I guess Hero's got a right to some of my paper money when he goes with me every day on my route."

At that his father stared for a minute and then burst into a loud laugh. Blinded with tears, the boy turned to the house.

After she had gone to bed that night Stubby's mother heard a sound from the alcove at the head of the stairs where her youngest child slept. As the sound kept on she got out of her bed and went to Stubby's cot.

"Look here," she said, awkwardly but not unkindly, "this won't do.

We're poor folks, Freddie" (it was only once in a while she called him that), "all we can do to live these times--we can't pay no dog tax."

As Stubby did not speak she added: "I know you've taken to the dog, but just the same you ain't to feel hard to your pa. He can't help it--and neither can I. Things is as they is--and n.o.body can help it."

As, despite this bit of philosophy Stubby was still gulping back sobs, she added what she thought a master stroke in consolation.

"Now you just go right to sleep, and if they come to take this dog away maybe you can pick up another one in the fall."

The sobs suddenly stopped and Stubby stared at her. And what he said after a long stare was: "I guess there ain't no use in you and me talking about it."

"That's right," said she, relieved; "now you go right off to sleep."

And she left him, never dreaming why Stubby had seen there was no use talking about it.

Nor did he talk about it; but a change came over Stubby's funny little person in the next few days. The change was particularly concerned with his jaw, though there was something different, too, in the light in his eyes as he looked straight ahead, and something different in his voice when he said: "Come on, Hero."

He got so he could walk into a store and demand, in a hard little voice: "Want a boy to do anything for you?" and when they said, "Got more boys than we know what to do with, sonny," Stubby would say, "All right," and stalk st.u.r.dily out again. Sometimes they laughed and said: "What could _you_ do?" and then Stubby would stalk out, but possibly a little less st.u.r.dily.

Vacation came the next week, and still he had found nothing. His father, however, had been more successful. He found a place where they wanted a boy to work in a yard a couple of hours in the morning. For that Stubby was to get a dollar and a half a week. But that was to be turned in for his "keep." There were lots of mouths to feed--as Stubby's mother was always calling to her neighbour across the alley.

But the yard gave Stubby an idea, and he earned some dimes and one quarter in the next week. Most folks thought he was too little--one kind lady told him he ought to be playing, not working--but there were people who would let him take a big shears and cut gra.s.s around flower beds, and things like that. This he had to do afternoons, when he was supposed to be off playing, and when he came home his mother sometimes said some folks had it easy--playing around all day.

It was now the first week in July and Stubby had a dollar and twenty cents. It was getting to the point where he would wake in the night and find himself sitting up in bed, hands clenched. He dreamed dreams about how folks would let him live if he had ninety-nine cents but how he only had ninety-seven and a half, so they were going to shoot him.

Then one day he found Mr. Stuart. He was pa.s.sing the house after having asked three people if they wanted a boy, and they didn't, and seemed so surprised at the idea of their wanting him that Stubby's throat was all tight, when Mr. Stuart sang out: "Say, boy, want a little job?"

It seemed at first it must be a joke--or a dream--anybody asking him if he _wanted_ one, but the man was beckoning to him, so he pulled himself together and ran up the steps.

"Now here's a little package"--he took something out of the mail box. "It doesn't belong here. It's to go to three-hundred-two Pleasant street. You take it for a dime?"

Stubby nodded.

As he was going down the steps the man called: "Say, boy, how'd you like a steady job?"

For the first minute it seemed pretty mean--making fun of a fellow that way!

"This will be here every day. Suppose you come each day, about this time, and take it over there--not mentioning it to anybody."

Stubby felt weak. "Why, all right," he managed to say.

"I'll give you fifty cents a week. That fair?"

"Yes, sir," said Stubby, doing some quick calculation.

"Then here goes for the first week"--and he handed him the other forty cents.

It was funny how fast the world could change! Stubby wanted to run--he hadn't been doing much running of late. He wanted to go home and get Hero to go with him to Pleasant street, but didn't. No, _sir_, when you had a job you had to 'tend to things!

Well, a person could do things, if he had to, thought Stubby. No use saying you couldn't, you _could_, if you had to. He was back in tune with life. He whistled; he turned up his collar in the old rakish way; he threw a stick at a cat. Back home he jumped over the fence instead of going in the gate--lately he had actually been using the gate. And he cried, "Get out of my sight, you cur!" in tones which, as Hero understood things, meant anything but getting out of his sight.

He was a little boy again. He slept at night as little boys sleep.

He played with Hero along the route--taught him some new tricks. His jaw relaxed from its grown-upishness.

It was funny about those Stuarts. Sometimes he saw Mr. Stuart, but never anybody else; the place seemed shut up. But each day the little package was there, and every day he took it to Pleasant street and left it at the door there--that place seemed shut up, too.

When it was well into the second week Stubby ventured to say something about the next fifty cents.

The man fumbled in his pockets. Something in his face was familiar to experienced Stubby. It suggested a having to have two dollars and a half by August first and only having a dollar and a quarter state of mind.

"I haven't got the change. Pay you at the end of next week for the whole business. That all right?"

Stubby considered. "I've got to have it before the first of August,"

he said.

At that the man laughed--funny kind of laugh, it was, and muttered something. But he told Stubby he would have it before the first.

It bothered Stubby. He wished the man had given it to him _then_. He would rather get it each week and keep it himself. A little of the grown-up look stole back.

After that he didn't see Mr. Stuart, and one day, a week or so later, the package was not in the box and a man who wore the kind of clothes Stubby's father wore came around the house and asked him what he was doing.

Stubby was wary. "Oh, I've got a little job I do for Mr. Stuart."

The man laughed. "I had a little job I did for Mr. Stuart, too. You paid in advance?"

Stubby p.r.i.c.ked up his ears.

"'Cause if you ain't, I'd advise you to look out for a little job some'eres else."

Then it came out. Mr. Stuart was broke; more than that, he was "off his nut." Lots of people were doing little jobs for him--there was no sense in any of them, and now he had suddenly been called out of town!

There was a trembly feeling through Stubby's insides, but outwardly he was bristling just like his hair bristled as he demanded: "Where am I to get what's coming to me?"

"'Fraid you won't get it, sonny. We're all in the same boat." He looked Stubby up and down and then added: "Kind of little for that boat."

"I _got_ to have it!" cried Stubby. "I tell you, I _got_ to!"

The man shook his head. "_That_ cuts no ice. Hard luck, sonny, but we've got to take our medicine in this world. 'Taint no medicine for kids, though," he muttered.

Stubby's face just then was too much for him. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a dime, saying: "There now. You run along and get you a soda and forget your troubles. It ain't always like this.

You'll have better luck next time."