O. Henry Memorial Award Prize Stories of 1921 Part 35

They were having a little supper of pickles and cheese and liver sausage and jam. Florette and the papa drank out of a bottle by turns and laughed a great deal. Florette seemed to think the papa very clever and funny. She laughed at everything he said. She looked at him with s.h.i.+ning eyes. She squeezed his hand under the table. Freddy tried in vain to attract her attention. Finally he gave up and sat staring at the oblivious couple with a stupid expression.

"That kid's half asleep," said the new papa.

Florette looked at Freddy and was annoyed by his vacant eyes.

"Go to bed right away," she commanded.

Freddy looked at her in amazement.

"Ain't you goin', too, Florette?" he asked.

"No, you go on--go to sleep."

"Git into that nice li'l cot an' go by-by," said the new papa genially.

Freddy had not seen the cot before. It had been moved in during his absence at the theatre, and stood white, narrow, and lonely, partly concealed by a screen.

"I--I always slep' with Florette," faltered Freddy.

This seemed to amuse the new papa. But Florette flushed and looked annoyed.

"Now, Freddy, are you goin' to be a grouch?" she wailed.

Freddy was kissed good-night, and went to sleep in the cot. He found it cold and unfriendly. But habit, the much maligned, is kind as well as cruel; if it can accustom us to evil, so can it soften pain. Freddy was beginning to a.s.sume proprietary airs toward the cot, which appeared in every town, and even to express views as to the relative values of cots in Springfield, Akron, or Joliet--when one night he woke to hear Florette sobbing.

Freddy lay awake listening. He had sobbed, too, when he was first banished to the cot. Was Florette missing him as he had missed her?

Ah, if she at last had seen that papas were not half so nice as Freddy's, he would not be hard on her. His heart swelled with forgiveness and love. He stole on tiptoe to Florette's bedside.

"Flo," he whispered.

The sobbing ceased. Florette held her breath and pretended to be asleep. Freddy wriggled his little thin body under the covers and threw his arms around Florette. With a gulp, she turned and threw her arms around him. They clasped each other tight and clung without speaking. They lay on the edge of the bed, holding their breath in order not to wake the papa who snored loudly. Freddy's cheeks and hair were wet, a cold tear trickled down his neck, his body ached from the hard edge of the bed; but he was happy, as only a child or a lover can be, and Freddy was both.

In the morning the papa was cross. He did not seem to care for his own breakfast, but concentrated his attention on Freddy's. Freddy had always been accustomed to a nice breakfast of tea and toast and jam, but Howard insisted on ordering oatmeal for him.

"Naw, Freddy can't stand oatmeal," Florette objected.

"It's good for him," said Howard, staring severely at his son across the white-topped restaurant table.

"I don' see no use forcin' a person to eat what they can't stomach,"

said Florette.

"Yeah, tha's the way you've always spoiled that kid. Look a' them pale cheeks! Li'l ole pale face!" Howard taunted, stretching a teasing hand toward Freddy. "Mamma's boy! Reg'lar sissy, he is!"

He gave Freddy a poke in the ribs. Freddy shrank back, made himself as small as possible in his chair, looked mutely at Florette.

"Aw, cut it out, Howard," she begged. "Quit raggin' the kid, can't you?"

"Mamma's blessed sugar lump!" jeered Howard, with an ugly gleam in his eye. "Ought to wear a bib with pink ribbons, so he ought. Gimme a nursin' bottle for the baby, waiter!"

The impertinence of this person amazed Freddy. He could only look at his tormentor speechlessly. Freddy and Florette had been such great chums that she had never used the maternal prerogative of rudeness. He had never had any home life, so he was unaware of the coolness with which members of a family can insult one another. Howard's tones, never low, were unusually loud this morning, and people turned around to laugh at the blus.h.i.+ng child. The greasy waiter grinned and set the oatmeal which Howard had ordered before Freddy.

"Now, then, young man," commanded Howard sternly, "you eat that, and you eat it quick!"

Freddy obeyed literally, swallowing as fast as he could, with painful gasps and gulps, fighting to keep the tears back. Florette reached under the table and silently squeezed his knee. He flashed her a smile and swallowed a huge slimy mouthful.

"You ain't eatin' nothin' yourse'f, Howard," said Florette acidly.

"W'y don' you have some oatmeal?"

"Tha's right!" shouted Howard. "Side with the kid against me! Tha's all the thanks I get for tryin' to make a man out o' the li'l sissy.

Oughta known better'n to marry a woman with a spoiled brat."

"Sh-h-h!" whispered Florette. "Don't tell the whole resterunt about your fam'ly troubles."

"Say," hissed Howard, bending down toward her and thrusting out his jaw, "lay off o' me, will yer?"

"Lay off yourse'f!" retorted Florette under her breath. "If you wanna fight le's go back to the hotel where it's private."

"I don' min' tellin' the world I bin stung!" roared Howard.

Florette flushed up to the slightly darker roots of her too-blonde hair.

"You?" she gasped furiously. "After all I've put up with!"

"Say, you ain't got any kick comin'! I treated you white, marryin'

you, an' no questions asked."

"What-ta you mean?" breathed Florette, growing deathly pale.

Freddy, alarmed, half rose from his chair.

"Sit down there you!" roared Howard. "What-ta I mean, Miss Innocence?"

he said, mimicking Florette's tone. "Oh, no, of course you ain't no idea of what I mean!"

"Come on, Freddy," Florette broke in quickly. "It's a katzenjammer. He ain't got over last night yet."

She seized Freddy's hand and walked rapidly toward the door. Howard lurched after her, followed by the interested stares of the spectators. On the street he caught up with her and the quarrel recommenced.

The act went badly that afternoon. It must be hard to frolic in midair with a heavy heart. Under cover of the gay music there were angry muttered words and reproaches.

"Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo!" Florette would trill happily to the audience as she poised on one toe. "What-ta you tryin' to do--shake me off'n the bar?" she would mutter under her breath to her partner.

"That's right! Leggo o' me an' lemme bus' my bean, d.a.m.n you!" snarled Howard. And to the audience he sang, "Oh, ain't it great to have a little girlie you can trust for--life!"

They were still muttering angrily as they came off. The handclapping had been faint.

"Aw, for G.o.d's sake, stop your jawin'!" half screamed Florette. "It ain't no more my fault than it is yours. If they don' like us they don' like us, tha's all."

She ran up the stairs, sobbing. Howard followed her. They shared a dressing room now. It was small, and Freddy was in the way, although he tried to squeeze himself into the corner by the dingy stationary washstand. Howard shoved Freddy. Florette protested. The quarrelling broke out afresh. Howard tipped over a bottle of liquid white.

Florette screamed at him, and he raised his fist. Freddy darted out of his corner.