THE OLD MAN MAKES A SPEECH--THE GROCERYMAN AND THE BAD BOY
HAVE A FUSS--THE BOHEMIAN BAND--THE BAD BOY ORGANIZES A
SERENADE--“BABY MINE”--THE OLD MAN ELOQUENT--THE BOHEMIANS
CREATE A FAMINE--THE Y. M. C. A. ANNOUNCEMENT.
“There, you drop that,” said the groceryman to the bad boy, as he
came limping into the store, and began to fumble around a box of
strawberries. “I have never kicked at your eating my codfish, and
crackers and cheese, and herring, and apples, but there has got to be a
dividing line somewhere, and I make it at strawberries at six shillings
a box, and only two layers in a box. I only bought one box, hoping some
plumber, or gas man would come along and buy it, and by gum, everybody
that has been in the store has sampled a strawberry out of that box.
shivered as though it was sour, and gone off without asking the price,”
and the grocery man looked mad, took a hatchet and knocked in the head
of a barrel of apples, and said, “There, help yourself to dried apples.”
“O, I don't want your strawberries or dried apples,” said the boy, as he
leaned against a show case and looked at a bar of red, transparent soap.
“I was only trying to fool you. Say, that bar of soap is old enough to
vote. I remember seeing it in your show case when I was about a year
old, and Pa came in here with me and held me up to the show case to
look at that tin tobacco box, and that round zinc looking-glass, and
the yellow wooden pocket comb, and the soap looks just the same, only
a little faded. If you would wash yourself once in a while your soap
wouldn't dry up on your hands,” and the boy sat down on the chair
without any back, feeling that he was even with the grocery man.
“You never mind the soap. It is paid for, and that is more than your
father can say about the soap that has been used in his house the past
month,” said the grocery man, as he split up a box to kindle the fire.
“But we won't quarrel. What was it I heard about a band serenading your
father, and his inviting them in to lunch?”
“Don't let that get out or Pa will kill me dead. It was a joke. One of
those Bohemian bands that goes about town playing tunes for pennies, was
over on the next street, and I told Pa I guessed some of his friends who
had heard we had a baby at the house, had hired a band and was coming in
a few minutes to serenade him, and he better prepare to make a speech.
Pa is proud of being a father at his age, and he thought it no more than
right for the neighbors to serenade him, and he went to loading himself
for a speech, in the library, and me and my chum went out and told the
leader of the band there was a family up there that wanted to have some
music, and they didn't care for expense, so they quit blowing where they
was and came right along. None of them could understand English except
the leader, and he only understood enough to go and take a drink when
he is invited. My chum steered the band up to our house and got them to
play 'Babies on our Block,' and 'Baby Mine,' and I stopped all the men
who were going home and told them to wait a minute and they would
see some fun, so when the band got through the second tune, and the
Prussians were emptying the beer out of the horns, and Pa stepped out
on the porch, there was more nor a hundred people in front of the house.
You'd a dide to see Pa when he put his hand in the breast of his coat,
and struck an attitude. He looked like a congressman, or a tramp. The
band was scared, cause they thought he was mad, and some of them were
going to run, thinking he was going to throw pieces of brick house
at them, but my chum and the leader kept them. Then Pa sailed in. He
commenced, 'Fellow Citizens,' and then went way back to Adam and Eve,
and worked up to the present day, giving a history of the notable people
who had acquired children, and kept the crowd interested. I felt sorry
for Pa, cause I knew how he would feel when he came to find out how
he had been sold. The Bohemians in the band that couldn't understand
English, they looked at each other, and wondered what it was all about,
and finally Pa wound up by stating that it was every citizen's duty to
own children of his own, and then he invited the band and the crowd in
to take some refreshments. Well, you ought to have seen that band come
in the house. They fell over each other getting in, and the crowd went
home, leaving Pa and my chum and me and the band. Eat? Well, I should
smile. They just reached f'or things, and talked Bohemian. Drink? O,
no. I guess they didn't pour it down. Pa opened a dozen bottles of
champagne, and they fairly bathed in it, as though they had a fire
inside. Pa tried to talk with them about the baby, but they couldn't
understand, and finally they got full and started out, and the leader
asked Pa for three dollars, and that broke him. Pa told the leader he
supposed the gentlemen who had got up the serenade had paid for the
music, and the leader pointed to me and said I was the gentleman that
got it up. Pa paid him, but he had a wicked look in his eye, and me and
my chum lit out, and the Bohemians came down the street bilin' full,
with their horns on their arms, and they were talking Bohemian for all
that was out. They stopped in front of a vacant house, and began to
play; but you couldn't tell what tune it was, they were so full, and a
policeman came along and drove them home. I guess I will sleep at the
livery stable to-night, cause Pa is so offul unreasonable when anything
costs him three dollars, besides the champagne.”
“Well, you have made a pretty mess of it,” said the grocery man. “It's
a wonder your Pa does not kill you. But what is it I hear about the
trouble at the church? They lay that foolishness to you.”
“It's all a lie. They lay everything to me. It was some of them ducks
that sing in the choir. I was just as much surprised as anybody when it
occurred. You see our minister is laid up from the effect of the ride to
the funeral, when he tried to run over a street car; and an old deacon
who had symptoms of being a minister in his youth, was invited to take
the minister's place, and talk a little. He is an absent minded old
party, who don't keep up with the events of the day, and whoever played
it on him knew that he was too pious to even read the daily papers.
There was a notice of a choir meeting to be read, and I think the tenor
smuggled in the other notice between that and the one about the weekly
prayer meeting. Anyway, it wasn't me, but it like to broke up the
meeting After the deacon read the choir notice he took up the other one
and read, 'I am requested to announce that the Y. M. C. Association will
give a friendly entertainment with soft gloves, on Tuesday evening,
to which all are invited. Brother John Sullivan, the eminent Boston
revivalist will lead the exercises, assisted by Brother Slade, the Maori
missionary from Australia. There will be no slugging, but a collection
will be taken up at the door to defray expenses.' Well, I though the
people in church would sink through the floor. There was not a person
in the church except the poor old deacon, but who understood that some
wicked wretch had deceived him, and I know by the way the tenor tickled
the soprano that he did it. I may be mean, but everything I do is
innocent, and I wouldn't be as mean as a choir singer for two dollars. I
felt real sorry for the old deacon, but he never knew what he had
done, and I think it would be real mean to tell him. He won't be at the
slugging match. That remark about taking up a collection settled the
deacon. I must go down to the stable now, and help grease a hack, so
you will have to excuse me. If Pa comes here looking for me, tell him you
heard I was going to drive a picnic party out to Waukesha, and may not
be back in a week. By that time Pa will have got over that Bohemian
serenade,” and the boy filled his pistol pocket with dried apples, and
went out and hung a sign in front of the grocery:
STRAWBERRIES, TWO SHILLINGS A SMELL;
AND ONE SMELL IS ENOUGH.