Part 2 (2/2)

His mannerisms stamped him as a man who had a correct sense of his personal superiority. There was valor and contempt for circ.u.mstances in the glance of his eye. He waved his hands like a man of the world, who dismisses religion and philosophy, and says ”Fudge.”j He had certainly seen everything and with each curl of his lip, he declared that it amounted to nothing. Maggie thought he must be a very elegant and graceful bartender. He had certainly seen everything and with each curl of his lip, he declared that it amounted to nothing. Maggie thought he must be a very elegant and graceful bartender.

He was telling tales to Jimmie.

Maggie watched him furtively, with half-closed eyes, lit with a vague interest.

”Hully gee! Dey makes me tired,” he said. ”Mos' e'ry day some farmerk comes in an' tries teh run deh shop. See? But deh gits t'rowed right out! I jolt dem right out in deh street before dey knows where dey is! See?” comes in an' tries teh run deh shop. See? But deh gits t'rowed right out! I jolt dem right out in deh street before dey knows where dey is! See?”

”Sure,” said Jimmie.

”Dere was a mug come in deh place deh odder day wid an idear he wus goin' teh own deh place! Hully gee, he wus goin' teh own deh place! I see he had a still on an' I didn' wanna giv 'im no stuff, so I says: 'Git deh h.e.l.l outa here an' don' make no trouble,' I says like dat! See? 'Git deh h.e.l.l outa here an' don' make no trouble;' like dat. 'Git deh h.e.l.l outa here,' I says. See?”

Jimmie nodded understandingly Over his features played an eager desire to state the amount of his valor in a similar crisis, but the narrator proceeded.

”Well, deh blokie he says: 'T'h.e.l.l wid it! I ain' lookin' for no sc.r.a.p,' he says (See?) 'but' he says, 'I'm spectable cit'zen an' I wanna drink an' purtyd.a.m.nsoon, too.' See? 'Deh h.e.l.l,.' I says. Like dat! 'Deh h.e.l.l,' I says. See? 'Don't make no trouble,' I says. Like dat. 'Don' make no trouble,' See? Den deh mug he squared off an' said he was fine as silk wid his dukes (See?) an' he wanned a drink d.a.m.nquick. Dat's what he said. See?”

”Sure,” repeated Jimmie.

Pete continued. ”Say, I jes' jumped deh bar an' deh way I plunked dat blokie was great. See? Dat's right! In deh jaw! See? Hully gee, he t'rowed a spittoon true deh front windee. Say, I taut I'd drop dead. But deh boss, he comes in after an' he says, 'Pete, yehs done jes' right! Yeh've gota keep order an' it's all right.' See? 'It's all right,' he says. Dat's what he said.”

The two held a technical discussion.

”Dat bloke was a dandy,” said Pete, in conclusion, ”but he had'n' oughta made no trouble. Dat's what I says teh dem: 'Don' come in here an' make no trouble,' I says, like dat. 'Don' make no trouble.' See?”

As Jimmie and his friend exchanged tales descriptive of their prowess, Maggie leaned back in the shadow. Her eyes dwelt wonderingly and rather wistfully upon Pete's face. The broken furniture, grimey walls, and general disorder and dirt of her home of a sudden appeared before her and began to take a potential aspect. Pete's aristocratic person looked as if it might soil. She looked keenly at him, occasionally, wondering if he was feeling contempt. But Pete seemed to be enveloped in reminiscence.

”Hully gee,” said he, ”dose mugs can't phase me. Dey knows I kin wipe up deh street wid any tree of dem.”

When he said, ”Ah, what deh h.e.l.l,” his voice was burdened with disdain for the inevitable and contempt for anything that fate might compel him to endure.

Maggie perceived that here was the beau ideal of a man. Her dim thoughts were often searching for far away lands where, as G.o.d says, the little hills sing together in the morning. Under the trees of her dream-gardens there had always walked a lover.

VI.

PETE TOOK NOTE OF Maggie.

”Say, Mag, I'm stuck on yer shape. It's outa sight,” he said, parenthetically, with an affable grin.

As he became aware that she was listening closely, he grew still more eloquent in his descriptions of various happenings in his career. It appeared that he was invincible in fights.

”Why,” he said, referring to a man with whom he had had a misunderstanding, ”dat mug sc.r.a.pped like a d.a.m.n dago.l Dat's right. He was dead easy. See? He tau't he was a sc.r.a.pper! But he foun' out diff 'ent! Hully gee.” Dat's right. He was dead easy. See? He tau't he was a sc.r.a.pper! But he foun' out diff 'ent! Hully gee.”

He walked to and fro in the small room, which seemed then to grow even smaller and unfit to hold his dignity, the attribute of a supreme warrior. That swing of the shoulders that had frozen the timid when he was but a lad had increased with his growth and education at the ratio of ten to one. It, combined with the sneer upon his mouth, told mankind that there was nothing in s.p.a.ce which could appall him. Maggie marvelled at him and surrounded him with greatness. She vaguely tried to calculate the alt.i.tude of the pinnacle from which he must have looked down upon her.

”I met a chump deh odder day way up in deh city,” he said. ”I was goin' teh see a frien' of mine. When I was a-crossin' deh street deh chump runned plump inteh me, an' den he turns aroun' an' says, 'Yer insolen' ruffin,' he says, like dat. 'Oh, gee,' I says, 'oh, gee, go teh h.e.l.l and git off deh eart',' I says, like dat. See? 'Go teh h.e.l.l an' git off deh eart',' like dat. Den deh blokie he got wild. He says I was a contempt' ble scoun'el, er something like dat, an' he says I was doom' teh everlastin' pe'dition an' all like dat. 'Gee,' I says, 'gee! Deh h.e.l.l I am,' I says. 'Deh h.e.l.l I am,' like dat. An' den I slugged 'im. See?”

With Jimmie in his company, Pete departed in a sort of blaze of glory from the Johnson home. Maggie, leaning from the window, watched him as he walked down the street.

Here was a formidable man who disdained the strength of a world full of fists. Here was one who had contempt for bra.s.s-clothed power; one whose knuckles could defiantly ring against the granite of law. He was a knight.

The two men went from under the glimmering street-lamp and pa.s.sed into shadows.

Turning, Maggie contemplated the dark, dust-stained walls, and the scant and crude furniture of her home. A clock, in a splintered and battered oblong box of varnished wood, she suddenly regarded as an abomination. She noted that it ticked raspingly. The almost vanished flowers in the carpet-pattern, she conceived to be newly hideous. Some faint attempts she had made with blue ribbon, to freshen the appearance of a dingy curtain, she now saw to be piteous.

She wondered what Pete dined on.

She reflected upon the collar and cuff factory. It began to appear to her mind as a dreary place of endless grinding. Pete's elegant occupation brought him, no doubt, into contact with people who had money and manners. It was probable that he had a large acquaintance of pretty girls. He must have great sums of money to spend.

To her the earth was composed of hards.h.i.+ps and insults. She felt instant admiration for a man who openly defied it. She thought that if the grim angel of death should clutch his heart, Pete would shrug his shoulders and say: ”Oh, ev'ryt'ing goes.”

She antic.i.p.ated that he would come again shortly. She spent some of her week's pay in the purchase of flowered cretonnem for a lambrequin. for a lambrequin. n n She made it with infinite care and hung it to the slightly-careening mantel, over the stove, in the kitchen. She studied it with painful anxiety from different points in the room. She wanted it to look well on Sunday night when, perhaps, Jimmie's friend would come. On Sunday night, however, Pete did not appear. She made it with infinite care and hung it to the slightly-careening mantel, over the stove, in the kitchen. She studied it with painful anxiety from different points in the room. She wanted it to look well on Sunday night when, perhaps, Jimmie's friend would come. On Sunday night, however, Pete did not appear.

Afterward the girl looked at it with a sense of humiliation. She was now convinced that Pete was superior to admiration for lambrequins.

A few evenings later Pete entered with fascinating innovations in his apparel. As she had seen him twice and he had different suits on each time, Maggie had a dim impression that his wardrobe was prodigiously extensive.

”Say, Mag,” he said, ”put on yer bes' duds Friday night an' I'll take yehs teh deh show. See?”

He spent a few moments in flouris.h.i.+ng his clothes and then vanished, without having glanced at the lambrequin.

Over the eternal collars and cuffs in the factory Maggie spent the most of three days in making imaginary sketches of Pete and his daily environment. She imagined some half dozen women in love with him and thought he must lean dangerously toward an indefinite one, whom she pictured with great charms of person, but with an altogether contemptible disposition.

She thought he must live in a blare of pleasure. He had friends, and people who were afraid of him.

She saw the golden glitter of the place where Pete was to take her. An entertainment of many hues and many melodies where she was afraid she might appear small and mouse-colored.

Her mother drank whiskey all Friday morning. With lurid face and tossing hair she cursed and destroyed furniture all Friday afternoon. When Maggie came home at half-past six her mother lay asleep amidst the wreck of chairs and a table. Fragments of various household utensils were scattered about the floor. She had vented some phase of drunken fury upon the lambrequin. It lay in a bedraggled heap in the corner.

”Hah,” she snorted, sitting up suddenly, ”where deh h.e.l.l yeh been? Why deh h.e.l.l don' yeh come home earlier? Been loafin' 'round deh streets. Yer gettin' teh be a reg'lar devil.”

When Pete arrived Maggie, in a worn black dress, was waiting for him in the midst of a floor strewn with wreckage. The curtain at the window had been pulled by a heavy hand and hung by one tack, dangling to and fro in the draft through the cracks at the sash. The knots of blue ribbons appeared like violated flowers. The fire in the stove had gone out. The displaced lids and open doors showed heaps of sullen grey ashes. The remnants of a meal, ghastly, like dead flesh, lay in a corner. Maggie's red mother, stretched on the floor, blasphemed and gave her daughter a bad name.

VII.

AN ORCHESTRA OF YELLOW silk women and bald-headed men on an elevated stage near the centre of a great green-hued hall, played a popular waltz. The place was crowded with people grouped about little tables. A battalion of waiters slid among the throng, carrying trays of beer gla.s.ses and making change from the inexhaustible vaults of their trousers pockets. Little boys, in the costumes of French chefs, paraded up and down the irregular aisles vending fancy cakes. There was a low rumble of conversation and a subdued clinking of gla.s.ses. Clouds of tobacco smoke rolled and wavered high in air about the dull gilt of the chandeliers.

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