"When I feel gloomy, I'm good and gloomy," said William to Lucien
Torrance one sunshiny afternoon in June, as they sat together in
Whimple's office, their respective "bosses" being out "on business,"
another way of saying that they had gone to the baseball match.
"This is one day when I'm gloomy, and I just gotter gloom--it ain't no
good your buttin' in and telling me to cheer up and all that kinder
rot. No, sir, I just gotter gloom till it's all over."
"What have you got to 'gloom' for to-day?" ventured Lucien, "it's a
bright, cheery day; the sun is----"
"The sun might be the moon for all I care," interrupted William
impatiently. "I got up gloomy, and likely as not I'll go to bed
gloomy. Gee! this is a rotten world sometimes."
"Maybe you're ill," suggested Lucien.
"Ill nothing--don't you ever feel gloomy?"
"Not without good cause."
"Well, I'd just hate to be you. Sometimes a song, or somebody humming
a tune, sets me gloomin', or something I read, or sometimes it ain't
nothing at all that I could tell. It just comes and sticks around till
I don't know whether I'd sooner be a gloomer or a merry-ha-ha feller,
with a smile for everybody and everything. I uster get that way in
school sometimes, and I hated school bad enough, except the play time,
but I sometimes wish I was back again."
"Why?"
"How the dickens do I know? Don't you?"
"No--I've made up my mind to a business career, and----"
William broke in again. "Well, you cert'nly have your mind well
trained. If I had a mind like that, I'd take it out and dump it into
the Bay every once in a while."
"How could I do that? I'd have to commit suicide."
"Well, you're a living suicide anyway, with a mind like yours," said
William. "It's too regular, that's what it is."
They sat silent for a long time. Lucien was afraid to speak, and
William was just "glooming." He turned to his comrade at last, and
began, "Say, whenever I get the gloom on me, sooner or later I get to
thinkin' about the first day Pete went to school. That was two years
ago--and he's nine now, and maybe he don't like school. Say, he'd go
without a meal rather'n be late. He's got that medal bug in his brain
pan; you know the game, never late and good conduct for about seventeen
years, and you get a medal that's pretty to look at and no darn good to
help you get a job. There's one good thing about Pete though, even if
he is a kid." He paused.
"What is it?"
"He can fight. Say, Lucien, you'd oughter see him at it. Why, last
week he had three fights with one feller."
"What for?"
"Well, the guy licked him the first two times, and didn't know any
better than to go around and beef about it. So Pete tackled him again
and licked him good and plenty, and every day since then Pete asks him
does he wanter fight again, and he says, 'No.' That's the way with
some folks, they know when they've had enough, but Pete never does; he
just stays with it till he wins out, then he looks for another fight.
But he's cunning, Pete is, he don't fight around the school none--Pete
wants that medal.
"But I was going to tell you about the first day he went to school.
One morning Pa says to Ma, 'Well, what about Pete starting school?' he
says.
"And Ma gets kinder white and her lips is trembly, and she says, 'I
guess he'll have to go,' and she says to Pete, 'Do you wanter go to
school, Pete?' and Pete says he's crazy to go.
"So Pa says to me, 'You'd better take him along, Willyum, I guess
there's no need for me to go tottin' up there.'
"But Ma says to Pa, 'I'd kinder like you to take him, Joe, the first
day,' she says, 'and I'll go and meet him at noon,' she says.
"And you bet Pa does what Ma asks him, he's that set on her. So Pa
takes him, and I seen Ma crying when they starts, so I pikes out after
'em quick, for it makes me feel kinder queer to see Ma and Pa feeling
bad about anything.
"Pa goes to the principal, and he asks Pete the same old fool things
they ask every boy and girl what goes to school, and finds out Pete can
read and write some, so he sticks him in the first form, and, of
course, it's a lady teacher. She bends down and pats Pete on the
head--he's gotter great mop of curls--and says, 'Well, my little man,'
she says, 'I hope you'll be a good scholar.' 'Sure,' says Pete,
'anything to oblige a lady.' So she laughs and says, 'What did you say
your full name was?' And Pete shuffles around some, and then he says,
'Peter Cornelius Turnpike,' he says.
"Well, that set some of the kids a snickerin'; and one of 'em, a boy
about Pete's size, says, 'Gee! what a name.' Pete walks over to him
and says, 'My Ma likes it, and anything she likes goes, see,' and with
that he pastes the kid one in the eye, and right there they goes for
each other fierce.
"Sure the teacher stopped 'em. Didjer ever know a woman that wouldn't
stop boys fightin' or get somebody to stop 'em? She stops 'em all
right, and keeps Pete in after school to give him a spiel about being
good and a credit to the school and his Ma and Pa, and right there she
plants the idea in Pete about getting a medal.
"When I gets out after school there's no Pete, so I ask some of the
kids, and they says the teacher's talking to him. I waited around, and
all of a sudden I sees Ma coming along, and I'm just going to speak to
her when along comes Pa. He lets on he's just coming that way on
accounter business, but his face gets a kinder red, and Ma laughs a
glad little laugh. And when I told 'em about Pete being kept in, they
both looks awful solemn and plunks down on the steps to wait for him.
Pa, he takes one'r Ma's hands and tells her to cheer up, and Ma says
she can't, she feels gloomy, and the house was awful lonesome with both
the boys away. So, just when I think there's going to be a crying
match, out comes Pete with his face a shining. Ma grabbed him and
kissed him like she'd never stop, and Pa hoists him on his shoulder,
and the procesh starts for home.
"Well, both Ma and Pa were for Pete staying home that afternoon, but
not for Pete. He was crazy for school. He told 'em what he'd done,
and Pa laughs and Ma tells him he'd orter be ashamed to laugh at his
boy fightin' the first day he's at school. But Pa laughs some more and
says, 'It ain't a bad sign,' he says; 'they gotter fight some time or
other, and there's nothing like starting early,' he says.
"So Pete and me goes off to school in the afternoon, and Pa says to Ma,
'Keep a stiff upper lip, Ma, the boys are all right,' he says, and I
guess Pa knows.
"There's quite a bunch in our family now, and some of 'em ain't old
enough for school yet, and I s'pose Ma 'll feel gloomy about 'em when
they start, same as she did about Pete."
He rose, put on his cap, and informed Lucien that he was going to look
at the bulletin boards to see how the baseball team was doing. "I hope
they'll lose," he added.
"Why?" Lucien demanded.
"Well, they've lost three games in a row now to the tail enders, and if
they lose this one it'll make me gloomier'n ever, and maybe I'll be so
gloomy there'll be no sense in it, and I'll begin to cheer up."