THE SCHNITZER
"Tell me now, Rosie, are you having any trouble with your papers?"
Terence asked this as he and Rosie and little Jack started off for
school.
Terence had a regular newspaper business which kept him busy every day
from the close of school until dark. His route had grown so large that
recently he had been forced to engage the services of one or two
subordinates. Rosie had begged to be given a job as paper-carrier, to
deliver the papers in their own immediate neighbourhood, and Terence was
at last allowing her a week's trial. If she could be a newsgirl without
attracting undue attention, he would be as willing to pay her twenty
cents a week as to pay any ordinary small boy a quarter.
Twenty cents seemed a princely wage to one handicapped by the limitation
of sex, and Rosie was determined to make good. So, when Terence inquired
whether she were having any trouble, she declared at once:
"No, Terry, honest I'm not. Every one's just as nice and kind to me as
they can be. Those two nice Miss Grey ladies always give me a cookie,
and nice old Danny Agin nearly always has an apple for me."
"Well," said Terence, severely--besides being Rosie's brother, fourteen
years old and nearly two years her senior, he was her employer and so
simply had to be severe--"Well, just see that you don't eat too many
apples!"
Terence and Jack turned into the boys' school-yard and Rosie pursued her
way down to the girls' gate. Just before she reached it, a boy, biggish
and overgrown, with a large flat face and loosely hung joints, ran up
behind her and shouted:
"Oh, look at the paper-girl, paper-girl, paper-girl! Rosie O'Brien,
O'Brien, O'Brien!"
He seemed to think there was something funny in the name O'Brien, and
his own name, mind you, was Schnitzer!
Rosie marched on with unhearing ears, unseeing eyes. Other people,
however, heard, for in a moment, one of the little girls clustered about
the school-yard gate rushed over to her, jerking her head about like an
indignant little hen.
"Don't you care what that old Schnitzer says, Rosie! Just treat him like
he's beneath your contemp'!"
Whereupon she herself turned upon the Schnitzer and, with most withering
sarcasm, called out: "Dutch!"
Rosie's friend's name was McFadden, Janet McFadden.
"Why don't you just tell Terry on him?" Janet said, when they were safe
within the crowded school-yard and able to discuss at length the
cowardice of the attack. "It wouldn't take Terry two minutes to punch
his face into pie-crust!"
"I know, Janet, but don't you see if I was to tell Terry, then he'd
think I was getting bothered on my paper route and take it away from me.
He's not quite sure, anyhow, whether girls ought to carry papers."
Janet clucked her tongue in sympathy and understanding. "Does that
Schnitzer bother you every afternoon, Rosie?"
"Yes, and he's getting worse. Yesterday he tried to grab my papers and
he tore one of them. I'm just scared to death when I get near his house,
honest, I am."
Janet clenched her hands and drew a long shivering breath. "Do you know,
Rosie, boys like him--they just make me so mad that I almost--I almost
_bust_!"
Black care sat behind Rosie O'Brien's desk that afternoon. It was her
fifth day as paper-carrier and, but for Otto Schnitzer, she knew that
she would be able to complete satisfactorily her week of probation. Was
he to cause her failure? Her heart was heavy with fear but, after
school, when she met Terry, she smiled as she took her papers and
marched off with so brave a show of confidence that Terry, she felt
sure, suspected nothing.
As usual, she had no trouble whatever on the first part of her route. At
sight of her papers a few people smiled but they all greeted her
pleasantly enough, so that was all right. One boy called out, "How's
business, old gal?" but his tone was so jolly that Rosie was able to
sing back, "Fine and dandy, old hoss!" So that was all right, too.
The Schnitzer place was toward the end of her route, a few doors before
she reached Danny Agin's cottage. As she passed it, no Otto was in
sight, and she wondered if for once she was to be allowed to go her way
unmolested. A sudden yell from the Schnitzers' garden disclosed Otto's
whereabouts and also his disappointment not to be on the sidewalk to
meet her. He came pounding out in all haste but she was able to make
Danny Agin's gate in safety.
Rosie always delivered Danny's paper in the kitchen.
"Come in!" said Danny's voice in answer to her knock.
Rosie opened the door and Danny received her with a friendly, "Ah now,
and is it yourself, Rosie? I've been waiting for you this half-hour."
He was a little apple-cheeked old man who wheezed with asthma and was
half-crippled with rheumatism. "Mary!" he called to some one in another
room. "It's Rosie O'Brien. Have you something for Rosie?"
A voice, as serious in tone as Danny's was gay, came back in answer:
"Tell Rosie to look on the second shelf of the panthry."
Rosie went to the pantry--it was a little game they had been playing
every afternoon--and on the second shelf found a shiny red apple.
"Thanks, Danny. I do love apples."
Danny shook his head lugubriously. "I'm afeared there won't be many
more, Rosie. We're gettin' to the bottom of the barrel and summer's
comin'. But can't you sit down for a minute and talk to a body?"
Rosie sat down. As she had only two more papers to deliver, she had
plenty of time. But she had nothing to say.
Danny, watching her, drew a long face. "What's the matter, Rosie dear?
Somebody dead?"
Rosie shook her head and sighed. "That old Otto Schnitzer's waiting for
me outside."
Danny exploded angrily. "The Schnitzer, indeed! I'd like to give that
lad a crack wid me stick!"
"Danny," Rosie said solemnly, "do you know what I'd do if I was a boy?"
"What?"
"I'd try a chin-chopper on Otto Schnitzer. That'd fix him!"
"It would that!" said Danny, heartily. He paused and meditated. "But
what's a chin-chopper, darlint?"
Rosie explained. "And Jarge says," she concluded, "they tumble right
over like ninepins."
"Who's Jarge?"
"Jarge Riley, our boarder. He's little but he's a dandy scrapper. Terry
says so, too."
Danny wagged his head. "Jarge is right. I've turned the same thrick
meself in me younger days, many's the time."
"It would just serve that Otto Schnitzer right, don't you think so,
Danny?"
"I do!" Danny declared. He looked at Rosie with a sudden light in his
little blue eyes. "Say, Rosie, why don't you try it on him? He's nuthin'
but a bag o' wind anyhow. One good blow and he'll bust."
Rosie cried out in protest: "But, Danny, he's so big and I'm so scared!
I don't want to fight! I'm glad it's not ladylike to fight, it scares me
so!"
"Whisht, darlint!" Danny raised a quieting hand. "Mind now what I'm
sayin': Almost everybody's got to fight sometime. I don't mean to pick a
fight but to fight in plain self-protiction. Now it's me own opinion
that young hound of a lad'll never let up on ye, Rosie, till ye larn him
a good lesson. I could give him a crack wid me stick if ever he'd come
nigh enough, but he'd be at you just the same the next time I wasn't
around. Now, Rosie, if you ask me, I'd advise you to farce yirself to
give that young bully a good chin-chopper once and for all. And, what's
more, I'll take me oath ye'll never be feared of him again.... Come
here and I'll show you how to go at him. Palm up now with yir fingers
bent making a little cup of the inside of your hand. Do ye see? Now the
thrick is here: Run at him hard and catch his chin in the little cup.
One good blow and you'll push him over. Oh, you can't miss it, Rosie."
Rosie's breath was coming fast and her hand was cold and shaky. "But I
don't want to do it, Danny, honest I don't! I can't tell you how scared
I am!"
Danny wagged his head. "Of course you don't want to do it, Rosie.
Because why? Because ye're a little lady. But I know one thing: ye'll
make yirself do it! And them that makes theirselves do it, not because
they want to do it but because it's the right thing to do, I tell ye,
Rosie, them's the best fighters! Come, come, I'll crawl out to the gate
wid ye and hold yir apple for you while ye do the business."
Fixing his bright little eyes upon her, Danny waited until Rosie had,
perforce, to consent. Then, with her help, he stood up and slowly
hobbled to the door.
"We won't mintion the matther to the ould woman," he whispered with a
wink. "She mightn't understand."
Rosie almost hoped that old Mary would catch them and haul Danny back,
but she could not, of course, give the alarm.
As she had expected, the Schnitzer was there waiting for her. At sight
of Danny he moved off a little.
"Now then, Rosie dear," Danny whispered, after Rosie had propped him
securely against the gate-post; "at him and may luck be wid ye! It's
high time that young cock crowed his last!"
As Danny spoke, the Schnitzer's taunting cry rang out: "Look at the
paper-girl, paper-girl, paper-girl!"
Rosie started up the street and the Schnitzer cavorted and pranced some
little distance in the front of her, making playful pounces at her
papers, threatening to clutch her hair, her arms, her dress. Then,
suddenly, he stood still, stretching himself across the middle of the
walk to bar her passage.
Rosie's heart pounded so hard she could scarcely breathe. She wanted to
dodge to the side and run, she wanted to turn back, she wanted to do
anything rather than go straight on. But she felt Danny's presence
behind her, she heard the click-clack he was making with his stick to
encourage her, and she pushed herself forward.
Then her mood changed. What had she ever done to this great lout of a
boy that he should be annoying her thus? He was not only terrorizing her
daily with no provocation whatever but, in addition, he was doing his
best to beat her out of her job. Yes, if she lost this well-paying job
tomorrow, it would be his fault, for he was the one thing on the route
that caused her trouble.... Oh, for the fist of a Jarge to give him the
chin-chopper he deserved!
She was close on to him now, looking him full in the eye. "Otto
Schnitzer, you let me go by!" The words came so naturally that she was
not conscious of speaking. "I guess I got as much right to this sidewalk
as you have!"
"You have, have you? Well, who do you think you are, anyway?" The
Schnitzer pushed out his jaw at her and grinned mockingly.
_Who do you think you are?_ Where had Rosie heard those insulting words
before? Ah, she remembered and, as she remembered, all fear seemed
instantly to leave her heart and she cried out in ringing tones:
"Who do I think I am? I'm the conductor of this car and if you----"
Rosie made for the Schnitzer and, with all her strength, sent the cup of
her hand straight at his chin. You have seen a ninepin wobble
uncertainly for a moment, then go down. The comparison is inevitable. A
yell of rage and fright from the sidewalk at her feet brought Rosie to
her senses. Glory be, she had chin-choppered him good and proper!
But what to do next? What next? In her mind's eye Rosie saw the interior
of a street-car with George Riley dancing a jig on the prostrate form of
a giant. Thereupon Danny Agin and Mary, his wife, who by this time had
joined him, and the woman next door, with a baby in her arms, saw Rosie
O'Brien perform a similar jig over the squirming members of the
Schnitzer.
That trampled creature was sending forth a terrific bellow of, "Murder!
Murder! Mommer! Help! I'm gettin' killed!"
"And just good for him, too!" the woman with the baby shouted over to
Mary and Danny. "I've been watching the way he's been teasing the life
out of that little girl!"
"Good wur-r-rk, Rosie, good wur-r-rk!" old Danny kept wheezing as he
pounded his stick in enthusiastic applause.
As the jig ended, Rosie stooped and snatched off the Schnitzer's cap.
For a moment she hesitated, for there was no mud-puddle on the street
into which to throw it. Then she noticed a tree. Good! That would give
him some trouble. She twisted the cap in her hand and tossed it up into
a high branch where it lodged securely.
Then she leaned over the Schnitzer for the last time. He was moaning and
groaning and whimpering with no least little spark of fight left in him.
And was this the thing she used to be afraid of? Danny was right: never
again would she fear him. She gazed at him long and scornfully. Then she
gave him one last stir with her foot and brought the episode to a close.
"Now then, you big bully, if you've had enough, get off this car--I
mean, _sidewalk_, and go home and tell your--your _mother_, I mean, that
she wants you!"
And, as Rosie said that evening in relating the adventure to George
Riley: "And, oh, Jarge, you just ought ha' seen how that stiff got up
and went!"