_Mrs. Cook's "Opery"_
Bill Cook continued to drink day and night until it was plain
to all that he would have another one of his "spells," as his
wife always called an attack of delirium tremens. There was
no hope for Bill when he once got started. He never stopped
until he was arrested or went into the tremens. He could not
borrow a five-cent piece, but could always get all the liquor
he wanted. It is a fact well known to all drinking men that
men will buy them fifty cents' worth of drink rather than give
them five cents in money. If they wanted the money for bread
for the children they could not get it; but drinks go any time.
Dave Beach had found Bill in the street, and taken him to his
barn to sleep off a little of his "jag," as Dave said. Dave
and Mrs. Cook never agreed as to the cause of Bill's trouble,
so Dave was very careful not to get near her when Bill was coming
down with one of his "spells." "He was shot in the army and
has bad spells. 'Tain't drinkin' at all 'at ails Bill; he's
sick," she would say. Dave found it was better to let her have
her way about it; so he put Bill into a box stall, until he
could send him home with Jimmie.
Every one in the neighborhood knew that Jimmie could be trusted.
He was never known to tell a thing he should not, and had a
way of knowing nothing when some one was looking for information.
Mrs. Cook knew that he had left home and was staying in Dave's
barn at night and eating anywhere and anything he could get.
When Bill failed to come home, she called Jimmie into the house
as he came from up-town. "Had yer supper, Jim?" she asked.
"Yep, I'm eatin' up-town now," answered Jim.
"Better have a cup o' tea," she said as Jimmie closed the door.
He had lived that day on three dry buns and a drop cookie, and
tea, warm tea, sounded good to him. He pulled off his cap and
jammed it into his coat pocket as he sat down at the table.
"Jim, I was yer friend when yer was in trouble, now I want yer
to help me. Bill's been gone all day and I'm scart fer him.
Dr. Snyder told me that the next time he had a "spell" he'd
die. No better man ever lived than Bill Cook, and I've been
thinkin' ter-day 'at somethin's got ter be did. Last night he
cried out in his sleep, jus' like he did las' time he had 'em,
and at three o'clock this morning he got up an' left the house.
I ain't seen nothin' of him since; the younguns think he's
workin', and I don't want 'em ter know no different. Bill loves
his younguns, and they think there's no one like their Pa. There
never was a kinder man than Bill Cook; no siree, not a kinder
man nowheres. He's been gittin' worser an' worser since yer
Pa's funeral, an' honest, Jim, I'm scart."
"Well," said Jimmie, as he finished his third cup of tea, "I
know jus' what he needs, but you'll have ter help."
"I'll do anyting yer say, Jim," said Mrs. Cook.
"Say, 'Hope ter die,' and cross yer heart," said Jimmie.
"I'll do it, yer bet."
"All right," said Jimmie. "Der first thing I want yer ter do
is ter go ter der Mission wid me ter-night."
"Me? I can't go, Jim; I ain't got no clothes ter go there;
'sides, it's Bill yer want ter help an' not me," she said.
"Yer promised me," said Jimmie, "an' yer mustn't ast no questions.
Yer get yer duds on an' I'll be back fer yer in five minutes."
Jimmie went over to Dave's barn, told him what was on and Dave
promised to get Bill into the house while they were gone.
Mrs. Cook took the children over to Hardy's to play while she
made a "call." When Jimmie returned to the house for Mrs. Cook,
she was all ready to go.
"Gee, where yer git der lid?" said Jimmie.
"Never you mind, sonny; that hat's some more of yer business."
As Jimmie stood and looked her over, he almost wished he had
not suggested the trip. Her hat was an old straw derby with
two chicken feathers stuck in it. She had put an old wine-colored
skirt over her blue wrapper.
"I'm ready," she said, "but yer mustn't sit up front."
"Yer needn't worry," answered Jimmie as he looked once more
at her hat.
She was very nervous at first; but after she discovered that
no one was looking at her she soon felt at ease. The singing
seemed to carry her out of herself. She forgot her trouble and
settled down into the chair to enjoy the very best hour she
had had in years.
"It's better 'n a opery," she whispered to Jimmie.
No place in the world do people sing as they do in a Rescue
Mission. Every one sings there, and the one who can make the
most noise is considered the best singer. Each one tries to
outdo his neighbor. They sing the old gospel songs with a vim
and never seem to tire of them.
The sermon that followed the singing was listened to by Mrs.
Cook; but the testimonies almost drove her to say things. She
hardly breathed as one after another got up and told what Jesus
had done for them.
"I believe my soul, that's Lousy Kate," she whispered to Jimmie
when one woman arose and told how God had found her at a jail
meeting.
"Sure 'nough, it's her; I knew her when she did that very thing,"
she said as she followed her in her testimony. "Why, that woman
was so crooked she couldn't lay down in a round-house."
When Superintendent Morton gave an invitation for all who wished
the prayers of the Christians to come forward, she started for
the door. When she had reached it she turned and watched the
people as they went forward. She watched one poor drunken man
as some of the workers helped him up the aisle. Big tears were
in her eyes when she turned to Jimmie. "If that man kin be saved,
drunk as he is, there's hope fer Bill, 'cause Bill's no drunkard,
he's sick."
"There's hope fer you, too," said Jimmie, when they had reached
the sidewalk.
"Me!" she almost shouted. "I ain't no drunkard, ner I never
killed anybody, and 'sides, it's Bill yer want ter help, not
me."
"The Bible says yer a sinner an' yer need fixin' jus' as bad
as Bill," said Jimmie. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but
he was determined to push the case as far as he dared. Without
giving her a chance to answer, he continued, "Jesus says we're
all sinners, an' whosever kin be saved, and that means you."
"I ain't no whoserever, I'm German, and my name's Annabella
Cook, and I don't want you nor none of yer friends ter fergit
it, sonny."
Jimmie was stumped for a minute. He had asked Morton what to
say, but he could not remember the Scripture, so he simply said,
"Yer swear, and yer drink, and yer don't pray, and if that ain't
sin I don't want a cent. If yer was to die ter-night, you'd
want somethin' more than 'em cuss words ter take ter Jesus.
Yer Freddie is in heaven and me Pa is there, and yer got too
much sense ter miss seein' 'em over there, and 'sides that yer
can't never help Bill till yer helped first."
Jimmie had touched a tender chord in Mrs. Cook, and he knew
it. She loved her family, and Bill was the apple of her eye.
She did not get angry, as Jimmie had feared, but walked along
in silence, thinking of what she had heard and how Jimmie had
brought it all home to her very door. At last she said, as though
speaking to herself, "Yes, I do swear when I git mad, but I
don't mean it ten minutes after. No, I guess I ain't ready ter
die, but, oh, Jimmie, what made yer mention Freddie? It near
kills me." And she began to cry. Freddie had died a few months
ago of membranous croup, and his death had caused a great sorrow
in the Cook family.
Jimmie slipped his hand into hers, and said, "I'm sorry; but
I'm so bloomin' anxious ter see yer both Christians, 'cause
yer so good ter me. I guess I'll never have no more Ma but you.
Say, how'd yer like der meetin'?"
"It's jus' fine," said Mrs. Cook, glad to change the subject.
"I'm goin' agin ter-morrow night."
Bill was all tucked away in bed when Mrs. Cook got home. Dave
had put him to bed. The doctor had given him a powder to quiet
him.
After the children were asleep Mrs. Cook sat alone thinking
of the night's happenings. The market clock struck twelve before
she came to herself and thought of going to bed.
"O God, I can't see it; I can't see it," she cried; "but I want
ter. I can't see it; I can't see it that way; but I want ter."
"I've seen 'nough fer both of us," said Bill, as he bolted
upright in bed. "There's one under my pillow now wid a thousand
legs!"