HOPE DEFERRED
"BOY SCOUTS," explained Mrs. Kukor, "wass awful stylish. Say you wass a
scout, so you go in beautiful gangs for makink picnic und seeink birds,
mit eatinks from goot foods, und such comes healthy for you."
Cis added to that when she arrived home that evening. "Boy scouts help
the police sometimes," she declared, "and march in parades, and hunt
babies that get lost, and don't let bad boys hurt cats, or girls, and
they do nice things for grown people--just the way Sir Gawain did, and
Sir Kay. And I shouldn't wonder, at the Table Round, when King Arthur's
knights were little, if they weren't _all_ boy scouts. But, oh, Johnnie,
what would _he_ say if you told him when he gets in that you want to be
a scout?"
Johnnie laughed. "He'd have a fit!" he declared, the thought of Barber's
consternation and anger amusing him far more than it made him fearful.
He was still in this happy state of mind when Cis chanced to remark that
there were girl scouts as well as boy scouts. At once he was shocked,
and wrathy, and quite disgusted. For it spoiled the whole boy scout idea
for him if girls could be scouts.
"Aw!" he cried, getting red with annoyance, "I don't believe it! How
could _girls_ be _scouts_? If knights was scouts when they was little,
well, anyhow girls never could be knights!"
Cis did not know how it was, only that it was so; and she reminded him,
with appeal in the violet-blue eyes, that she was not a particle to
blame for it. "Girls can march," she said; "and they can be kind to cats
and people a lot better than boys can."
"One thing sure," Johnnie went on, firmly, "girls can't be cowboys." He
determined to think twice before he became a scout since, apparently,
the organization was not so exclusive as he had thought.
"Oh, but girls can be cowgirls," went on Cis. "I've seen pictures of
cowgirls _lots_ of times. They wear divided skirts."
At that, Johnnie turned pale. "Well, I bet girls can't be
pirate-killers," he retorted angrily, "like Jim Hawkins. Or a p'liceman
on horseback, or a millionaire, or own islands all by theirselves, or
ride el'phants like Aladdin, or poke other girls off horses with
spears!"
As Big Tom now came scuffing into the kitchen, nothing more could be
said on the subject. But later on Johnnie again complained to Cis about
the intrusion of girls into ranks where they could not fail to be both
unwelcome and unsuited. "They don't belong," he urged, "and they ought
t' keep out! They spoil _ev'ry_thing!"
"Well, men do the same things," she argued. "Just to-day I saw a man
running a _sewing machine_."
"But he's got t' do it for some reason," Johnnie declared, "like I have
t' make vi'lets--and cook."
"But if all the boy scouts don't care because girls are girl scouts, why
should _you_ care?" she wanted to know, hurt at his attitude toward her
sex. "You know you don't belong yet. And if that young man thinks it's
all right, why it must be, and he'll think you're funny if you scold
about it."
The next morning Johnnie had but one thought: The promised call of the
leader. Naturally he did not take his usual trip to search for One-Eye
and bring home a box. Instead he made elaborate preparations looking
toward the arrival of his visitor. With One-Eye, somehow it had not
mattered how the flat appeared. Hero though he was, style counted little
with the cowboy, who dwelt in a cellar along with horses. And anyhow
One-Eye thought the flat was all right "far's it goes." Those had been
his very words.
But with that leader, Johnnie felt it was different. He proceeded at
once, mentally, to establish the gallant young stranger in a most
luxurious apartment, with big windows, lace curtains, a figured carpet
and shining morris chairs. And though across this attractive bachelor
habitation he stretched a clothesline for the drying of expensive
laundry, he was careful to think this line as a brand new one which was
never used as a telephone, since right at hand was the genuine
instrument.
How Johnnie went to work! When all of the duties of the flat were done,
he pulled off the apron and hid it in the wash boiler. He did not want
that leader to catch him wearing any garment that belonged to a woman.
Neither did he want his newest friend even to guess that he (Johnnie)
did any sort of girl's work--in particular any cooking.
"My goodness!" he exclaimed to himself. "If he was t' know what I
do--well, maybe he wouldn't ask me t' be one of his scouts!"
Now he went at himself. He washed his face so that it glistened. He
scrubbed his neck and ears till they were scarlet. And still using the
soap liberally, even contrived to get rid of a coal smudge of long
standing, situated down along his thin left calf.
But the morning passed, and the afternoon went by, and--no one came.
No one, that is, but Mrs. Kukor, who looked in toward five o'clock. In
amazement she noted the neatness of the kitchen and the cleanliness of
his face. "Ach, Levi!" she exclaimed. "How you gits a runnink jump mit
yourselluf!"
"Prob'ly that gentleman, he's been awful busy to-day," said Johnnie,
"and so he'll be here first thing in the mornin'."
"Pos-i-tivvle!" comforted Mrs. Kukor.
But late that night, when the whole flat was abed, he admitted to
himself not only his disappointment but his keen chagrin. And he said to
himself, independent now, that perhaps, after all, he did not care to be
a scout!--there were so many other wonderful things he could be.
This is how it came about that, lying in the dark, he thought a most
curious thing--one that had to do with the years ahead--the future that
would find him grown-up.
The thing was this: he held himself away from himself to look at
himself--precisely as he might have looked at Cis, or Big Tom, or
Grandpa. But this was not all. For he did not look at himself as he was,
in the big, old clothes; and he did not look at himself _singly_. He
looked at _six himselves_, all ranged in a wonderful row!
Remembering what Cis had said about girl scouts and cowgirls, there was
no Johnnie Smith either in khaki or in fur-trimmed breeches. The first
Johnnie Smith of the row was a policeman (mounted!); the second, a
millionaire, wearing his fur on his collar; then there was a Johnnie
Smith dressed like Jim Hawkins, and he had two pistols in his belt;
beside this pirate-slaying Johnnie was a Johnnie who inhabited a lonely
island with a gentleman who owned a parrot and had a man Friday; and not
too close to the Johnnie who was Crusoe's friend was a Johnnie who rode
about with Aladdin on a great fighting elephant covered with blankets of
steel which could turn the arrows of all enemies; last of the six, and
perhaps the most glorious, too, was Sir Johnnie Smith, helmeted, and in
knightly dress, sitting a curveting gray, lance and shield in hand.
Which of them all would he be?
There was plenty of time to decide. A thin cheek cupped in a too-large
hand, he slept, dreaming that the leader was at the hall door, knocking,
knocking, knocking, but that for the life of him, Johnnie could not move
to answer the knock, being fixed to the floor, and helpless. He called
to the young man, though, with his whole might, which woke Big Tom and
Cis, and Cis woke Johnnie, by telling him to turn over, for he was
having a nightmare.
Next morning, hope buoyed Johnnie up from the moment he opened his eyes.
He rose joyously; and by nine o'clock everything was in readiness for
the coming of the leader, and Johnnie was waiting eagerly, ears cocked.
But when, shortly before noon, he realized that a stranger was climbing
the tenement stairs, not his ears but his small nose gave him the
information. Charging the air from the hall was perfume so strong and
delightful that, sniffing it in surprise and pleasure, he hastened to
open the door and glance up and around in the gloom for what he felt
sure would be like a smoke.
He saw nothing; but heard lively breathing, and a _swish, swish, swish_;
next, a weak, mewlike cry. Then here was Mrs. Kukor herself, dropping
down volubly, step by step, from her floor, aided by the banisters.
"Eva?" she cried as she came; "wass it mine Eva?"
Now, coming up the stairs to Johnnie's level, appeared a young lady with
red cheeks on a marvelously white face. She had on a silk dress (it was
the silk which was doing the swishing), a great deal of jewelry, and a
heavy fur coat fairly adrip around its whole lower edge with dozens of
little tails.
But this was not all. Slung under one arm, she carried a fat baby!--and
what a rosy, what a spotlessly clean, baby!
The baby was Mrs. Kukor's grandson, the lady was Mrs. Kukor's daughter,
for "Mama!" cried the young mother; and as they met just in front of
Johnnie there was an explosive outburst of talk in a strange tongue, and
much of what Johnnie afterwards described to Cis as "double kissin',"
that is, a kissing on both cheeks, the baby coming in for his share and
weeping over it forlornly.
Greeting done, Mrs. Kukor introduced Johnnie. "Eva," she beamed, "from
long you have hear Mama speakink over Chonnie Schmitt. Und--here wass!"
Fortunately Johnnie's right hand was clean. So was his smiling face.
"Oh, Mrs. Reisenberger, I thank you for the tel'phone-d'rect'ry," he
began gratefully, as the two shook hands.
Mrs. Reisenberger was staring at his rags. Also, she was now holding the
baby well up and back. "Oh, I don't like it that my Mama should live
down here," she declared. "She can live swell in the Bronx with Jake and
me."
Now Johnnie stared--miserably. For her words were like a sickening blow.
What if Mrs. Kukor were to leave? What would he do without her?
"I like I should live always by mine own place," asserted Mrs. Kukor.
And to Johnnie, as she plucked a bit of Mrs. Reisenberger's skirt
between a thumb and finger, "Look, Chonnie! All from silks!"
Then she led the way higher, while heads popped out of doors all up and
down the house; and Mrs. Reisenberger puffed after her, like some sort
of a sweet-smelling, red-and-white engine. "Oh, Mama," expostulated the
other between breaths as she toiled to that last floor, "how I wish you
should come to live with Jake and me!"
Mrs. Reisenberger was excitement enough for one day. But on the day
following nothing happened, nor on the day after that. And gradually
Johnnie's hope began to lessen, his faith to ooze.
By the end of a week, the young man with the eyeglasses scarcely seemed
real, so that when Cis gently suggested that Johnnie had never met any
leader, he was hardly able to protest that he had. By the end of a
fortnight, his newest friend merged with that unsubstantial company made
up of David, Aladdin, Uncas and all the rest. Then Johnnie took to
telephoning him over the clothesline. Also, when Cis was home, the scout
leader had a part in all those elaborate social functions she enjoyed,
such as dances, and calling, and shopping.
These days, Johnnie again wore the apron, and neglected the soap and the
comb and the brushing. Ah, it had all been too good to come true!
Two or three times, with a nubbin of chalk, he tried to draw the face of
the young man on that handy bit of kitchen wall where the smooth plaster
showed. But what unpracticed hand could trace such a splendid
countenance? and what bit of white crayon could give any idea of a cheek
all tan and red? It was one thing, and easy, to suggest Big Tom, with
his bulging eyes, his huge, twisted nose, his sloping chin and his
Saturday night bristles. But regular features were quite another matter.
Then one morning as he stood writing the big word "landscape" on the
plaster, this word being out of _The Last of the Mohicans_, which he
held in his left hand, his attention was caught by a sound in the hall.
Some one seemed to be walking about aimlessly, as if uncertain where to
knock.
Johnnie dropped his book into the big shirt, reached the door in a few
long jumps, jerked it wide, and--looked straight into a smiling, ruddy
face.