_Bill's Pension_
After Mr. and Mrs. Morton had listened to Jimmie's story of
Mrs. Cook's prayer, Floe's "gittin' hurted" and Dave's talk,
he went into detail as he described the wonderful breakfast
he had eaten. "Gee, I was scart I'd bust when I straightened
up. I don't feel like I wanted nothin' for a week."
"Tell me more about Floe," said Mrs. Morton, much interested.
"Do you think she would come to live with us while she is sick?
I would love to care for her and be her friend if she would
let me."
"Do yer mean she can board here?" asked Jimmie in surprise.
"No, I want her to come and live with us; I want her for my
friend and companion. She can be our Floe and make this her
home."
"Will her name be Floe Morton then?" asked Jimmie.
"Yes, you may call her that if you like, but I do want her to
come and live with us. When you go to see her this morning,
ask her if she will allow me to see her. If she will, you come
right back for me and we will go down together."
After prayer Jimmie started for Bucktown, very happy, and confident
that the day would be a day of victory for Jesus. His faith
was wonderful. His prayers were so simple and childlike; he
prayed to God and asked Him for things in the same language
and tone of voice he used when he talked to any one else. He
had not acquired the professional whine as yet, and for that
reason he received answers to his prayers, because he prayed
to God and did not whine to the people who might be around to
hear him. Many godly people have been shocked in the Mission
because some redeemed drunkard would use slang in his fervent
prayer to the Almighty. He simply prayed in his own language.
The language of the slums is just as much a language as German
or French; it must be learned before it can be understood. The
idea that these men must not pray until they have learned that
professional, unnatural, painful whine, is as absurd as confining
prayer to Latin. When a man or woman is occupied by the wording
of a prayer and not with the prayer and with their God, it may
be beautiful, but it never gets higher than the bald spot on
their head.
Jimmie prayed as he ran along the railroad tracks, and asked
God to help him say the right thing at the right time.
"Hello, Bill, yer up, are yer? Yer must be feelin' better."
"Yes, he's up and he ain't had a drink ter-day nor las' night,
have yer, Bill?" said Mrs. Cook proudly. "And what's more, yer
ain't goin' ter have none, are yer, Bill?"
Bill was eating canned tomatoes from a can with a spoon. Tomatoes
taste good to a man in Bill's condition and they will stay down
when nothing else will. "He's got ter git out ter-day an' sign
his pension papers, 'cause he won't git his money on the fifth
if he don't," said Mrs. Cook. "I wish you'd go with him, Jim,"
she whispered. "He ain't very strong yet."
"I'll do it, yer bet," said Jimmie. "What time do yer want ter
go, Bill?"
"About ten o'clock I'll be ready." Bill spoke with great
difficulty; he was very weak and nervous.
"Dat'll gi' me time ter go and see Floe," said Jimmie. "I'll
be back at jus' ten o'clock. Yer make him wait fer me, won't
yer, Mrs. Cook?"
"Yep, I'll keep him if I can."
The colored cook let Jimmie into the Dolly resort through the
kitchen, and he was shown to Floe's room by the nurse, who had
been called in by Doctor Snyder the night before.
"Oh, Jimmie child, I'm so glad to see you. I've been thinking
of what you said about asking Jesus to help me. He can't help
me now; it's too late. Come here, Jimmie dear, I want to ask
you to do something for me." Jimmie went to her bedside.
"Will you do what I want you to do?"
"I'll do der best I kin ter help yer," said Jimmie proudly.
"Yer was good ter me and I want ter be good ter you. I'll never
forgit the dollar yer sent ter Ma when Pa was sick, and the
shoes yer----"
"Oh, never mind any of that, Jim; I want to ask you to do me
this favor before you get started to talk and say something
I don't want to hear," said Floe.
"For years the whole aim of my life has been to forget, forget,
forget the past. I had succeeded to some extent and begun to
believe that I was away from even the thought or desire for
anything better than this kind of life. What you said last night
has brought it all back to me and I have been living in the
past all night, only to awake this morning to this awful reality.
Now, Jimmie child, I don't want to hurt you, but I want you
to promise me that you will never mention anything of that kind
to me again. It can never do me any good and it only makes me
miserable."
"Jesus never makes yer miserable, Floe. He makes yer glad yer
livin'," said Jimmie, and before she could answer he went on
in his enthusiastic way: "Say, Floe, you know Mrs. Morton at
the Mission? Well, she's the best that ever happened. Talk 'bout
der limit; what der yer tinks she wants now? I went up ter der
house this mornin' and tol' 'em about yer gittin' hurted, den
I tried ter tell 'em 'bout Dave Beach, but Mrs. Morton, she
says, 'Tell me more about Floe.' 'Do yer know Floe?' I ast.
'No, I do not, Jimmie, but I want to know her.' And dis is what
she said: She wants yer to come up ter her house while yer hurted
and live with her. She says it ain't so bloomin' noisy, er somfin
like dat. You'll git well quicker and she says she wants ter
take care of yer, and yer can live dere all der time if yer
wants ter, and be Floe Morton. Gee, dey got a swell house with
carpets, an' pictures an' things jus' like yer got here, and
grass and trees outside and a hummock ter swing in, an' I'll
come ter see yer every day. Mrs. Morton tol' me ter come jus'
any ol' time I wanted ter. Won't that be fine, me an' you both
there?"
Floe tried to speak, but Jimmie talked so fast she couldn't
get a word in edgewise.
"Dis here lady with a white doo-bob on her top-knot says I can't
stay only fer a minute, so I wants ter tell yer what we're doin'.
Me an' Mrs. Morton is comin' up ter see yer, and she's goin'
ter tell yer what she wants, and if Doctor Snyder and dis lady
says yer can be took, Mrs. Morton is goin' ter get a hearse
wagon an' take yer home, an' I'm goin' along. I never rid in
one of 'em tings yet. I must go now, but I'm comin' back with
Mrs. Morton. So long."
"Wait a minute, Jimmie," cried Floe. "Don't bring that woman
in here, Jimmie, do you hear?" But he was gone, or at least
he did not give her a chance to talk back.
Jimmie went straight to the Cook home. Mrs. Cook said Bill had
just left, but had promised not to take a drink. Jimmie hurried
out of the house, and for some reason, unknown even to himself,
started for Fagin's. He slipped in unnoticed and there stood
Bill on one side of the bar and Fagin on the other. Bill had
just got a drink to his mouth with great difficulty after Fagin
had poured it out. When he set the glass down upon the bar,
Fagin filled it up again and Bill "downed" it. As Fagin filled
it for the third time, Jimmie rushed up with his canvas bag,
in which he carried papers. Swinging it around his head with
all his strength, he hit the glass and bottle and sent them
across the room, breaking both on the floor. Bill thought it
was his wife. As he ducked his head, he said, "I didn't drink
no booze, that was for Fagin."
"Don't lie, Bill. I saw yer git two, but I don't blame yer fer
it. Fagin knows how near yer come ter cashin' in and how weak
yer are, and wants ter git yer goin' agin 'cause yer pension's
'bout due; he knows he'll git it if yer drunk."
Fagin was white with rage and started for Jimmie, but Jimmie
straightened up and made himself as large as he could, and,
with his big gray eyes fastened upon Fagin, said, "I'm not scart
of yer bluff; yer coward 'nough ter hit me 'cause I'm little,
but yer goin' ter listen while I tell yer somfin. Yer killed
me Pa, an' yer know it. After yer got all his dough, yer put
him out and he was left in Rice's wagon box ter freeze, while
yer slept in yer good bed. When it come ter buryin' him yer
didn't give nothin' but a lot of poor booze ter git der people
drunk, and der funeral broke up in a free-for-all; now yer after
Bill 'cause yer tinks yer can git his pension. His woman's got
her second washin' out so fur dis mornin' an' when I ast her
how she did it she said she washed all night long, 'cause rent
was up and Bill was sick. Then she said she'd wash her finger
nails off if she could help Bill git saved. She loves Bill and
her kids jus' as much as your woman loves yer and yer kids,
and I don't see what yer want ter kill him off fer. Dey never
done nothin' ter you. Ah, go on! he wouldn't either git it nowhere
else if he didn't git it here." A big tear stole down Jimmie's
face as he stood looking first at Fagin and then at poor Bill.
"Der Bible say that God loves everybody, and I believe it 'cause
it says so, but I can't see no show fer a dog like you, Fagin.
You're worser than any guy I ever see'd. You go ter church every
Sunday mornin', and Sunday afternoon and the rest of the week
yer booze and steal and raise h----. Yer got ter----"
"Oh, shut up, you little fool; some one told you to say that;
no kid your age got off such a temperance talk without some
one helping him. That fresh guy from the Mission put you up
to rubbing it into me; I'll fix him, and you, too, if I ever
hear any more of it." Fagin was beaten by the boy and he felt
the defeat keenly.
"I suppose you'll hit him in der back of der head wid a stone,
like yer did der poor dago last spring. If yer lookin' fer a
good square game I tink Morton could fix yer so you'd need one
of yer fottygraffs on yer shirt front ter tell yer wife who
was comin' home ter dinner. Come on, Bill, let's git out of
here and go sign yer papers. Dis is no place fer gentlemen like
me and you."
Jimmie took Bill by the hand and started for the door. Bill
had not spoken during the "temperance lecture," and when Jimmie
took him by the hand he allowed himself to be led away and seemed
glad to have a chance to get out of the place. He did not want
to drink, and yet he could not help it.
"So long, Fagin," said Jimmie when he had reached the door with
Bill. "When yer confess next Sunday mornin' be sure ter tell
'em 'bout dis hold-up, and tell 'em dat all der money yer gits
is money yer steals from der women and kids of Bucktown. An'
say, Fagin," Jimmie yelled from the sidewalk, "tell 'em erbout
Bill's pension yer didn't git. So long."
Jimmie got Bill back home after the papers were signed and Mrs.
Cook put him to bed. Neither spoke of the two drinks to her
and she was very happy as she thought of the wonderful things
ahead of her. "Fer thirty years Bill's been havin' spells,"
she said to herself. "Now I believe it's goin' ter change. He
can't help gittin' saved if he hears them people at der Mission
tell how Jesus kin save 'em."