Michael O'Halloran — Malcolm and the Hermit Thrush
When Nellie Minturn saw her husband coming across the mosses, his arms outstretched, his face pain-tortured, she came swiftly forward, and as she reached Malcolm, Mr. Minturn caught both of them in his arms crying: "My sweetheart!
My beautiful sweetheart, give me another chance, and this time I'll be the head of my family in deed and in truth, and I'll make life go right for all of us."
CHAPTER XIX
_Establishing Protectorates_ "I'm sorry no end!"
said Mickey.
"First time I ever been late.
I was helping Peter; we were so busy that the first thing I knew I heard the hum of her gliding past the clover field, so I was left.
I know how hard you're working.
It won't happen again."
Mickey studied his friend closely.
He decided the time had come to watch.
Douglas Bruce was pale and restless, he spent long periods in frowning thought.
He aroused from one of these and asked: "What were you and Peter doing that was so very absorbing?"
"Well about the most interesting thing that ever happened," said Mickey.
"You see Peter is one of the grandest men who ever lived; he's so fine and doing so many _big_ things, in a way he kind of fell behind in the _little_ ones."
"I've heard of men doing that before," commented Douglas.
"Can't you tell me a new one?"
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
"You know the place and how good it seems on the outside--well it didn't look so good inside, in the part that counted most.
You've noticed the big barns, sheds and outbuildings, all the modern conveniences for a man, from an electric lantern to a stump puller; everything I'm telling you--and for the nice lady, nix!
Her work table faced a wall covered with brown oilcloth, and frying pans heavy enough to sprain Willard, a wood fire to boil clothes and bake bread, in this hot weather, the room so low and dark, no ice box, with acres of ice close every winter, no water inside, no furnace, and carrying washtubs to the kitchen for bathing as well as washing, aw gee--you get the picture?"
"I certainly do," agreed Douglas, "and yet she was a neat, nice-looking little woman."
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
"If she had to set up housekeeping in Sunrise Alley in one day you could tell her place from anybody else's. Sure, she's a nice lady!
But she has troubles of her own.
I guess everybody has."
"Yes, I think they have," assented Douglas.
"I could muster a few right now, myself."
"Yes?"
cried Mickey.
"That's bad!
Let's drop this and cut them out."
"Presently," said Douglas.
"My head is so tired it will do me good to think about something else a few minutes.
You were saying Mrs. Harding had trouble; what is it?"
Mickey returned to his subject with a chuckle.
"She was 'bout ready to tackle them nervous prostrations so popular with the Swell Dames," he explained, "because every morning for fifteen years she'd faced the brown oilcloth and pots and pans, while she'd been wild to watch sunup from under a particular old apple tree; when she might have seen it every morning if Peter had been on his job enough to saw a window in the right place.
Get that?"
"Yes, I get it," conceded Douglas.
"Go on!"
"Well I began her work so she started right away, and before she got back in comes Peter.
When he asks where she was and why she went, I was afraid, but for her sake I told him.
I told him everything I had noticed.
At first he didn't like it."
"It's a wonder he didn't break your neck."
"Well," said Mickey judicially, "as I size Peter up he'd fight an awful fight if he was fighting, but he ain't much on _starting_ a fight.
I
worked the separator steady, and by and by when I 'summed up the argument,' as a friend of mine says, I guess that cream separator didn't look any bigger to Peter, set beside a full house and two or three sheds for the stuff he'd brought to make _his_ work easier, than it did to me."
"I'll wager it didn't," laughed Douglas.
"No it didn't!"
cried Mickey earnestly.
"And when he stood over it awhile, that big iron stove made his kitchen, where his wife lived most of her day, seem 'bout as hot as my room where he was raving over Lily having been; and when he faced the brown oilcloth and the old iron skillets for a few minutes of silent thought, he bolted at about two.
Peter ain't so slow!"
"What did he do?"
asked Douglas.
"Why we planned to send her on a visit," said Mickey, "and cut that window, and move in the pump, and invest in one of those country gas plants, run on a big tank of gasoline away outside where it's all safe, and a bread-mixer, and a dishwasher, and some lighter cooking things;
but we got interned."
"How Mickey?"
interestedly inquired Douglas.
"Remember I told you about Junior coming in to hunt work because he was tired of the country, and how it turned out?"
said Mickey.
"Yes I recall perfectly," answered Douglas.
"There's a good one on me about that I haven't told you yet, but I will," said Mickey.
"Well when son came home, wrapped in a comfort, there was a ripping up on the part of Peter.
He just 'hurled back the enemy,' and who do you think he hit the hardest?"
"I haven't an idea," said Douglas.
"In your shoes, I wouldn't a-had one either," said Mickey.
"Well, he didn't go for Junior, or his Ma, or me.
Peter stood Mister Peter Harding out before us, and then didn't leave him a leg to stand on.
He proved conclusive he'd used every spare moment he'd had since Junior was in short clothes, carrying him to Multiopolis to amuse him, and feed him treats, and show him shows; so he was to blame if Junior developed a big consuming appetite for such things.
How does the argument strike you?"
"Sound!"
cried Douglas.
"Perfectly sound!
It's precisely what the land owners are doing every day of their lives, and then wailing because the cities take their children.
I've had that studied out for a year past."
"Well Peter figured it right there for us in detail," said Mickey.
"Then he tackled Ma Harding and her sunup, and then he thought out a way to furnish entertainment and all the modern comforts right there at home."
"What entertainment?"
said Douglas.
"Well he specified saddles and horses to ride," grinned Mickey, "and swimming, and a fishing-boat and tackle for all of us, a launch on whatever lake we like best, a big entertainment house with a floor for skating and dancing, and a stage for plays we will get up ourselves, and a movie machine.
I'm to find out how to run one and teach them, and then he'll rent reels and open it twice a week.
The big hole that will cave in on the north side of Multiopolis soon now will be caused by the slump when our neighbourhood withdraws its patronage and begins being entertained by Peter.
And you'll see that it will work, too!"
"Of course it will," agreed Douglas.
"Once the country folk get the idea it will go like a landslide.
So that's what made you late?"
"Well connected with that," explained Mickey.
"Peter didn't do a thing but figure up the price he'd paid for every labour-saver he ever bought for himself, and he came out a little over six thousand.
He said he wouldn't have wanted Ma in a hardware store selecting his implements, so he guessed he wouldn't choose hers.
He just drew a check for what he said was her due, with interest, and put it in her name in the bank, and told her to cut loose and spend it exactly as she pleased."
"What did she do?"
marvelled Douglas.
"Well she was tickled silly, but she didn't lose her head; she began investigating what had been put on the market to meet her requirements.
At present we are living on the threshing floor mostly, and the whole house is packed up; when it is unpacked, there'll be a bathroom on the second floor, and a lavatory on the first.
There'll be a furnace in one room of the basement, and a coal bin big enough for a winter's supply.
We can hitch on to the trolley line for electric lights all over the house, and barn, and outbuildings, and fireless cooker, iron, and vacuum cleaner, and a whole bunch of conveniences for Ma, including a washing machine, and stationary tubs in the basement.
Gee!
Get the picture?"
"I surely do!
What else Mickey?"
asked Douglas.
"You know I've a house to furnish soon myself."
"Well a new kitchen on the other end of the building where there's a breeze, and a big clover field, and a wood, and her work table right where it is in line with her private and particular sunup.
There's a big sink with hot and cold water, and a dishwasher.
There's a bread-mixer and a little glass churn, both of which can be hitched to the electricity to run.
There's a big register from the furnace close the work table for winter, and a gas cook stove that has more works than a watch."
"What does the lady say about it?"
"_Mighty little!
_" said Mickey.
"She just stands and wipes the shiny places with her apron or handkerchief, and laughs and cries, 'cause _she's so glad_.
It ain't set up yet, but you can see just standing before it what it's going to mean for her.
And there's a chute from the upstairs to the basement, to scoot the wash down to the electric machine to rub them, and a little gas stove with two burners to boil them, and the iron I told you of.
Hanging it up is the hardest part of the wash these days, and since they have three big rooms in the basement, Peter thought this morning that he could put all the food in one, and stretch her lines in the winter for the clothes to dry in the washroom.
The furnace will heat it, and it's light and clean; we are going to paint it when everything is in place."
"Is that all?"
queried Douglas.
"It's a running start," said Mickey; "I don't know as Peter will ever get to 'all'.
The kitchen is going to have white woodwork, and blue walls and blue linoleum, and new blue-and-white enamelled cooking things from start to finish, with no iron in the bunch except two skillets saved for frying.
Even the dishpan is going to be blue, and she's crying and laughing same time while she hems blue-and-white wash curtains for the windows.
All the house is going to have hardwood floors, the rooms cut more convenient; out goes the old hall into just a small place to take off your wraps, and the remainder added to the parlour.
All the carpets and the old heavy curtains are being ground up and woven into rugs.
Gee, it's an insurrection!
Ma Harding and I surely started things when we planned to dose Junior on Multiopolis, and let her 'view the landscape o'er.'
You can tell by her face she's seeing it!
If she sails into the port o' glory looking more glorified, it'll be a wonder!
And Peter!
You ought to see Peter!
And Junior!
You should see Junior planning his room.
And Mickey!
You must see Mickey planning his!
And Mary and Bobbie!
And above all, you should see Lily!
Last I saw of her, Peter was holding her under her arms, and she was shoving her feet before her trying to lift them up a little.
We've most rubbed them off her with fine sand, and then stuck them in cold water, and then sanded them again, and they're not the same feet--that's a cinch!"
"Is that the sum of the Harding improvements?"
asked Douglas, drawing fine lines on a sheet of figures before him.
"Well it's a fair showing," said Mickey.
"We ain't got the new rugs, and the music box, and the books; or the old furniture rubbed and oiled yet.
When the house is finished, Peter expressly specified that his lady was to get her clothes so she could go to the club house, and not be picked for a country woman by what she _wore_."
"Mickey, this is so interesting it has given my head quite a rest.
Maybe now I can see my way clearly.
But one thing more: how long are you planning to stay there?
You talk as if----" "'Stay there?'
" said Mickey.
"Didn't you hear me say there was a horse and saddle and a room for me, and a room for Lily?
'Stay there!'
Why for ever and ever more!
That's _home!
_ When I got into trouble and called on Peter to throw a lifeline, he did it up browner than his job for Ma.
A _line_ was all I asked; _but Peter established a regular Pertectorate_--_nobody can 'get' us now_----" "You mean Peter adopted both of you?"
cried Douglas.
"Sure!"
indorsed Mickey with a flourish.
"You see it was like this: when we dosed Junior with Multiopolis, the old threshing machine took a hand and did some things to him that wasn't on the program; he found out about it, and it made him mad.
When he got his dander up he hit back by turning old Miss Country loose on me.
First I tried a ram and yellow jackets; then only a little bunch of maple twigs was all the pull I had to keep me from going to the bottomless pit by the way of the nastiest quicksand on Atwater Lake.
Us fellows went back one day and fed it logs bigger than I am, and it sucked them down like Peter does a plate of noodles.
Then Junior thought curling a big dead rattler in the path, and shunting me so I'd step right on it, would be a prime joke; but he didn't figure on the snake he had fixed for me having a mate as big and ugly as it was, that would follow and coil zipping mad over the warm twisting body----" "Mickey!"
gasped Douglas.
"Just so!
Exactly what I thought--and then some.
When I dragged what was left of me home that night, and figured out where I'd been if the big maple hadn't spread its branch just as wide as it did, or if the snake had hit my leg 'stead of my britches--when I took my bearings and saw where I was at, the thing that really hurt me worst was that if I'd gone, either down or up, I hadn't done anything for Lily but give her a worse horror than she had, of being 'got' by them Orphings' Home people, when I should have made her _safe forever_.
I took Peter to the barn and told him just how it was, 'cause I felt mighty queer.
I wasn't so sure that one scratch on my leg that looked ugly mightn't a-been the snake striking through the cloth and dosing me some, I was so sick and swelled up; it turned out to be yellow jackets, but it might a-been snakes, and I was a little upset.
As man to man I asked him what I ought to do for my _family_ 'fore I took any more _risks_.
A-body would have thought the jolt the box gave me would have been enough, but it wasn't!
It took the snake and the quicksand to just right real wake me up.
First I was some sore on Junior; but pretty quick I saw how funny it was, so I got over it----" "He should have had his neck broken!"
"Wope!
Wope!
Back up!"
cautioned Mickey.
"Nothing of the kind!
You ain't figuring on the starving, the beating, being knocked senseless, robbed of all his clothes _twice_, and landing in the morgue with the cleaning-house victims.
Gee, Junior had reasons for his grouch!"
Douglas Bruce suddenly began to laugh wildly.
"Umhum!
That's what I told you," said Mickey.
"Well, that night I laid the case before Peter, out on the hay wagon in the barnyard, so moon white you could have read the _Herald_, the cattle grunting satisfied all around us, katydids insisting on it emphatic, crickets chirping, and the old rooster calling off the night watches same as he did for that first Peter, who denied his Lord.
I thought about that, as I sat and watched the big fellow slowly whittling the rack, and once in a while putting in a question, and when I'd told him all there was to tell, he said this: he said _sure_ Lily was _mine_, and I had a perfect _right_ to _keep_ her; but the law _might_ butt in, 'cause there _was_ a law we couldn't evade that _could_ step in and take her any day.
He said too, that if she had to go to the hospital, sudden, first question a surgeon would ask was who were her parents, and if she had none, who in their place could give him a right to operate.
He said while she was _mine_, and it was my _right_, and _my job_, the law and the surgeon would say _no_, 'cause we were not related, and I was not of age.
He said there were times when the law got its paddle in, and went to fooling with red tape, it let a sick person lay and die while it decided what to do.
He said he'd known a few just exactly such cases;
so to keep the law from making a fool of itself, as it often did, we'd better step in and fix things to suit us before it ever got a showdown."
"What did he do?"
asked Douglas Bruce eagerly.
"Well, after we'd talked it over we moved up to the back porch and Peter explained to Ma, who is the boss of that family, only she doesn't _know_ it, and she said for him to do exactly what his conscience and his God dictated.
That's where his namesake put it over that first Peter.
Our Peter said: 'Well if God is to dictate my course, you remember what He said about "suffering the little children to come to Him," and we are commanded to be like Him, so there's no way to _twist_ it, but that it means _suffer them to come to us_,' he said.
"Ma she spoke quick and said: 'Well we've got them!'
"Peter said, 'Yes, we've got them; now the question is whether we _keep_ them, or send them to an Orphings' Home.'
"The nice lady she said faster than I can tell you: 'Peter Harding, I'm ashamed of you!
There's no question of that kind!
There's never going to be!'
"'Well don't get het up about it,' said Peter.
'I knew all the time there _wasn't_, I just _wanted to hear you say so plain and emphatic_.
So far as I'm concerned, my way is clear as noonday sun,' said Peter.
'Then you go first thing in the morning and adopt them, and adopt them _both_,' said Ma.
'Lily will make Mary just as good a sister as she could ever have,' said she, and then she reached over and put her arms right around me and she said, 'And if you think I'm going to keep on trying to run this house without Mickey, you're mistaken.'
I began to cry, 'cause I had had a big day, and I was shaking on my feet anyway.
Then Peter said, 'Have you figured it out to the end?
Is it to be 'til they are of age, or forever?'
She just gripped tighter and said fast as words can come, 'I say make it forever, and share and share alike.
I'm willing if you are.'
Peter, he said, 'I'm willing.
They'll pay their way any place.
Forever, and share and share alike, is my idea.
Do you agree, Mickey?'
'Exactly what do you mean?'
I asked, and Peter told me it was making me and Lily both his, just as far as the law could do it;
we could go all the farther we wanted to ourselves.
He said it meant him getting the same for me and Lily as he did for his own, and leaving us the same when he died.
I told him he _needn't do that_, if he'd just keep off the old Orphings' Home devil, that's had me scared stiff all my days, I'd tend to _that_, so now me and Lily belong to Peter; he's our _Pertectorate_."
"Mickey, why didn't you tell me?"
asked Douglas.
"Why didn't you want me to adopt you?"
"Well so far as 'adopting' is concerned," said Mickey, "I ain't _crazy_ about it, with anybody.
But that's the _law_ you men have made; a boy must obey it, even if he'd rather be skinned alive, and when he _knows_ it ain't _right or fair_.
That's the law.
I was up against it, and I didn't know but I _did_ have the snake, and Peter was on hand and made that offer, and he was grand and big about it.
I don't love him any more than I do you; but I've just this minute discovered that it ain't in my skin to love any man more than I do Peter; so you'll have to get used to the fact that I love him just as well, and say, Mr. Bruce, Peter is the finest man you ever knew.
If you'll come out and get acquainted, you'll just be tickled to have him in the Golf Club, and to come to his house, and to have him at yours.
His nice lady is exactly like Miss Winton, only older.
Say, she and Peter will adopt you too, if you say so, and between us, just as man to man, Peter is a regular lifesaver!
If you got a chance you better catch on!
No telling what you might want of him!"
"Mickey, you do say the most poignant things!"
cried Douglas.
"I'd give all I'm worth to catch on to Peter right now, and cling for much _more_ than life; but what I started, I must finish, and Peter isn't here."
"Well what's the matter with me?"
asked Mickey.
"Have you run into the yellow jackets too?
'Cause if you have, I'm ahead of you, so I know what to do.
Just catch on to me!"
"Think you are big enough to serve as a straw for a drowning man, Mickey?"
inquired Douglas.
"Sure!
I'm big enough to establish a _Pertectorate_ over you, this minute.
The weight of my body hasn't anything to do with the size of my heart, or how fast I can work my brains and feet, if I must."
"Mickey," said Douglas despairingly, "it's my candid opinion that no one can save me, right now."
Mickey opened his lips, and showed that his brain _was_ working by shutting them abruptly on something that seemed very much as if it had started to be: "Sure!"
"Is that so?"
he substituted.
"Yes, I'm in the sweat box," admitted Douglas.
"And it's uncomfortable and weakening.
What's the first thing we must do to get you out?"
"What I'm facing now is the prospect that there's no way for me to get out, or for my friends to get me out," admitted Douglas.
"I wish I _had_ been plowing corn."
The boy's eyes were gleaming.
He was stepping from one foot to the other as if the floor burned him.
"Gosh, we must saw wood!"
he cried.
"You go on and tell me.
I been up against a lot of things.
Maybe I can think up something.
Honest, maybe I can!"
"No Mickey, there's nothing you or any one can do.
A miracle is required now, and miracles have ceased."
"Oh I don't know!"
exclaimed Mickey.
"Look how they been happening to me and Lily right along.
I can't see why one mightn't be performed for you just as well.
I wish you wouldn't waste so much time!
I wish you hadn't spent an hour fooling with what I was telling you; _that_ would keep.
I wish you'd give me a job, and let me get busy."
Douglas Bruce smiled forlornly.
"I'd gladly give you the job of saving me, my dear friend," he said, "but the fact is I haven't a notion of how to go to work to achieve salvation."
"Is somebody else getting ahead of you?"
"Not that I know of!
No I don't think so.
That isn't the trouble," said Douglas.
"I do wish you'd just plain tell me," said Mickey.
"Now that I got the _Pertectorate_ all safe over Lily, I'd do anything for you.
Maybe I could think up some scheme.
I'm an awful schemer!
I wish you'd _trust_ me!
You needn't think I'd _blab!
_ Come on now!"
Suddenly Douglas Bruce's long arms stretched across the table before him, his head fell on them, and shuddering sobs shook him.
Mickey's dance steps became six inches high, while in desperation he began polishing the table with his cap.
Then he reached a wiry hand and commenced rubbing Douglas up and down the spine.
The tears were rolling down his cheeks, but his voice was even and clear.
"Aw come on now!"
he begged.
"Cut that out!
That won't help none!
What shall I _do?
_ Shall I call Mr. Minturn?
Shall I get Miss Leslie on the wire?"
Bruce arose and began walking the floor.
"Yes," he said.
"Yes!
'Bearer of Morning,' call her!"
Mickey ran to the telephone.
In a minute, "Here she is," he announced.
