CIS TELLS A SECRET
CIS was seated on her narrow pallet, her back against the prized
excelsior cushion, her knees drawn up within the circle of her slender
arms. About her shoulders tumbled her hair, its glossy waves framing a
face, pale and tense, in which her eyes were wide pools of black.
Johnnie was just below her on the floor, his quilt spread under him for
comfort, a bare foot nursed in either hand. The combined positions were
such as invariably made for confidences. And he guessed that what she
had to tell him now was something unusually important and exciting.
"Johnnie," she whispered, and he saw himself dancing in those dark
pools; "--oh, if I don't tell it to somebody, I'll just _die_! Oh,
Johnnie, what do you think? What do you _think_?"
He thought; then, "New shoes?" he hazarded. "A new dress? A--a--more
money at the fact'ry? Or"--and in an excited rush--"another book!"
"_Oh!_" She lifted her face to the ceiling, wagging her head helplessly.
"Shoes! or a dress! or money! or a book! They're nothing, Johnnie,
alongside of the truth--just _nothing_!"
"Well, then, what?" he asked, leaning forward encouragingly. "Go on,
Cis! Tell me!"
"Johnnie Smith,"--impressively--"you're sitting beside a young lady
that's going to be married!"
Johnnie gasped. "_Married?_" He fell back from her, the better to stare.
He had expected an important communication; but he was not prepared for
anything so astounding as this.
She nodded. "Right away."
Going to be married! So that was why she seemed so different, so
changed! that was why she had been wearing her hair up, and fussing so
often with her nails! why she cared no longer for Edwarda! why she could
not see the people of his thinks! It was simple enough, now that he
understood. Of course with a wedding in view, naturally she was
grown-up; and a girl, whenever she got grown-up, could not let her
braids hang down her back. And as for fine hands-- "Y' mean y've heard
from the _Prince_?" he demanded.
She laughed. "No-o-o-o! Oh, Johnnie, you silly!"
He knit his brows and regarded her reprovingly. "Well," he argued, "y'
always told me how much y' love him."
"But I didn't ever know him even! And that was a long time ago!--No,
it's some one else, and really a Prince, because he's so splendid! Oh,
Johnnie, guess! Guess the most wonderful person ever! Guess a knight!
Like Galahad! Oh, he's _exactly_ like Galahad!" Now she gazed past him.
There were tears on her eyelashes. Her parted lips were trembling. "I'm
too happy almost to live!" she added. Then down went her forehead to
rest on her knees, and he saw that she was trembling all over.
There was a long silence. Just at first he had felt inclined to taunt
her a little for being so changeable in her affections, so flighty; and
it had hurt his opinion of her, this knowledge that she could be
disloyal. But now he was curious. Who was really a Prince? and splendid?
and like Galahad?
He saw a figure, tall and dark, majestically seated upon a great, bay
horse. A cap shaded proud, piercing eyes. A uniform set the rider wholly
apart from all the ordinary men hurrying by in both directions. Who in
the city of New York was so like a knight as one of those brave, superb,
unapproachable, almost royal, creatures, a mounted policeman? ("Fine
Irishers," as Mrs. Kukor called them.)
Then Johnnie was reminded of something. "Cis, will y' be married with a
red carpet?" he whispered.
She looked up, turning on him a smile so sweet and glowing that it was
like a light. "I don't know," she whispered back. "Maybe--if I want
one--I think so." Down went her head again.
Now another picture. The carpet was laid. It stretched across the smooth
pavement under a long, high, gray canopy. A red carpet and a gray canopy
meant just one thing: great wealth. And Johnnie saw Cis following where
that carpet led, beside her one of the four richest men in the world.
This man was Mr. Astor (or Mr. Vanderbilt, or Mr. Rockefeller, or Mr.
Carnegie--any one of the quartette would do). The mounted policeman was
still a part of the happy scene, but only in an official capacity, since
from the back of his prancing bay he was keeping off the vast crowd that
was swarming to see the bridal couple.
And, naturally, the policeman, in spite of his fine uniform, was not to
be compared for a moment to the bridegroom. New York had many policemen;
it had only one Mr. Astor (or Mr. Vanderbilt, or Mr. Rockefeller, or Mr.
Carnegie). Also, the future surroundings of a Mrs. Policeman--what were
they when put alongside what Cis would have when she was Mrs.
Any-one-of-the-Four? A house as big as the Grand Central Station--that
was a certainty. With it would go silk dresses and furs with dozens of
little tails to trim them; jewels of the sort Aladdin had sent the
Sultan for the Princess Buddir al Buddoor; books in as great a number
as Cis cared to buy, all from that store in Fifth Avenue; automobiles
like those owned by the Fifty-fifth Street rich man; dishes of massy
gold.
"And I betcher I'll ride in one of her cars," he thought; "and I'll read
her books!" And at once the future looked rosy and promising.
She began to whisper again, her chin on a knee: "He's got a place for me
all picked out! I won't have to go to the factory any more! I'll have
pretty clothes, and good things to eat every meal, and see plays and
moving-pictures every week, and just have nothing to do but keep house,
and sew, and----"
The startled expression on Johnnie's face stopped her. "Keep house?" he
repeated, disgusted. "_Sew?_" These were not matters which should
trouble the bride of a millionaire! "What're y' goin' t' do things like
_that_ for?"
She blinked at him, rebuffed and puzzled. "Why not? I like to sew."
"Aw,"--the palace of his vision was down now, had vanished like
Aladdin's own--"what's your new name goin' t' be?" He felt unaccountably
cross.
"Johnnie! What's the matter with you? And you mean you don't know? you
can't guess? You haven't _noticed_? And you right here all the time?"
Surprise stiffened Johnnie's countenance. "Oh!" he cried, amazed and
glad. "Oh, Cis, I know now! You're goin' t' marry One-Eye!"
Girls, as he knew, were very strange; and surely this one was not the
least so. It was a conclusion that came to him now, and forcibly. For at
his solemn, heart-felt, happy question, what this girl did was to fall
back against her pillow, shouting with laughter, waving both arms, even
kicking out her feet in the craziest manner. And "One-Eye!" she
repeated; "One-Eye!" Then was swept into another paroxysm of mirth.
Presently, "Well, go on! Tell me!" Johnnie said with proper masculine
severity.
"Oh, Johnnie, you _are_ so funny!" she declared breathlessly. "One-Eye!
That _old man_! Oh, never, never, never, _never_!" The last never was
only a squeak.
"When y' git done laughin'--" he prompted; and waited, lips set, and
lids lowered with displeasure.
"Somebody a _thousand_ times nicer than One-Eye!" she went on. "A
_million_ times nicer! And, oh, Johnnie, how I _love_ him!"
Johnnie's heart sank, heavy with the great pity that now welled up in
his heart. He knew whom she meant; but he knew, too, that, sweet and
pretty and lovable as she was, and no doubt capable of winning the
affections of a mounted policeman or a millionaire, she had not the
slightest chance in the world of marrying the handsome, the good, the
wise, the peerless and high-born Mr. Perkins. "St! st! st!" he mourned.
He sighed, leaned against the side of the shelf, propped his yellow head
on a big hand, and watched her sadly.
"Mrs. Algernon Godfrey Perkins!"--Cis spoke as if in an ecstatic dream.
"A. G. P.! _Oh_, but they're lovely initials!"
He was glad when she leaned her head on her knees again, for then she
could not see his face. "Gee!" he murmured.
"It was you brought him to me!" went on Cis. "I'll never forget that,
Johnnie! It means my whole life! Just think of that! A whole, long,
wonderful life with _him_!"
"Aw, but, Cis! Are y' sure y' got a chance?"--his voice was tender with
sorrowful concern.
She sat up. "Johnnie Smith, what're you talking about?" she demanded. "A
_chance_! Why, he loves me! He says so! Over and over and over! And look
here!" She thrust a finger under the collar of her dress and drew out a
length of white ribbon, narrow and shining. Mid-way of it, playing along
the satin, was a ring--a gold ring set all the way round with tiny,
white, glistening stones. "Mr. Perkins, he gave me this," she added, and
caught the ring to her lips.
"Mrs. Perkins!" Now his eyes were big with the wonder of it all! That
Waldorf-Astoria apartment--Cis was to live in it! There could no longer
be any doubt of it. The ring was solid proof. Almost reverently he
reached to take it in his fingers. "The same as Aladdin loved the
Princess!" he said slowly.
Cis gave a toss of her brown head. "Oh, Aladdin!" she scoffed. "This is
really and truly, Johnnie! There's no make-believe about it!"
What all this meant to her, to Mr. Perkins, and to him, he realized
then. But he could not be happy over it because of a new fear. "Oh,
Cis!" he cried, leaning close to speak low. "Don't y' know what's goin'
t' happen? If y' tell Big Tom 'bout this, he'll kill y'! And, oh! oh!
He'll kill _him_! Mister Perkins!"
"Sh! Sh!" She put an arm about him. "It's going to be all right! Who'll
tell Big Tom? Don't you worry. _I_ don't. I'm not his daughter. Mr.
Perkins is going to find me a guardian. It'll be a lady, I think. Anyhow
then I'll do just what the guardian says. You know, guardians 're
awfully stylish. Girls have them in books, and in the movies. Yesterday
somebody was telling at the factory about----"
She had caught his interest, taking it from that fresh worry. His arms
about her, his head resting against her shoulder, they talked on and on,
in whispers. When Barber came stomping in, and ordered them to be quiet,
Johnnie forsook the little blue room; but he could not sleep, and stole
to the roof for a breath of fresh air.
The night was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Or was it the joy in
his own heart that made everything seem so perfect? How deeply blue were
the patches of star-sprinkled sky showing between clouds of dazzling
white! How sweet and live was the air driving cityward from the sea! And
the moon! As it came slipping from cloud to cloud, as round as the
washtub, and nearly as large, it seemed to Johnnie to have a face that
he could see plainly. And that face, full and fat, was laughing!