A Son of the City Part 16

Four or five eager volunteers scrambled over the footlights. The professor selected the largest of them.

"Number six-seventy-six!" John looked eagerly at the coupon which had been handed him at the door. "Number six-seventy-six! Who has it?"

Harriette, the cast-off Harriette of last year, bobbed forward.

"Ah," boomed the deep voice. "A little girl, and a nice one, too."

Harriette stuck one finger in her mouth as she s.h.i.+fted sheepishly from foot to foot. "But the skates are boy's. Isn't that too bad? Now, little girl, do you think you will be satisfied with a nice, new dollar bill instead? Will that buy a good enough pair of skates?"

"Jimmy!" John e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed enviously.

"Number three-forty-four!" he continued, as his volunteer a.s.sistant drew out another slip. "And another little girl. Well, she gets this beautiful Brazilian pearl ring, set with wonderful, glistening rhinestones!"

The fortunate maiden scurried back to her mother as fast as her stocky little legs could carry her.

"Number seven-hundred-fifteen! Number seven-hundred-fifteen!"

"Here!" shrieked John, as he nearly knocked the boy ahead of him over in an excited effort to get to the front. "That's me!" Was it another pair of skates, or a baseball bat, or the big, s.h.i.+ning jack-knife which the boys had told about?

"Number seven-fifteen is a boy, is it?" The professor's eyes twinkled.

"Ye--s--sir," stammered John, nervously.

"William," ordered the distributor of prizes as he half turned to the exit in the wings. "Bring out that doll carriage!"

The house broke into vociferous mirth. Silvey, hailing him at the top of his lungs, counseled him to "Give it to her! Give it to her!" Sid DuPree's face grinned maliciously at him from the first row. Slowly he stumbled down the aisle with the despised toy b.u.mping after him, and rejoined Louise.

He scarcely heard the numbers of the other prize winners as they were called out. Nor did he pay attention to the professor's lecture on the operation of the famous whistle which had so amused the audience that afternoon.

Someway or other, he found himself out on the street with Louise. About him, boys scampered home in the fast gathering dusk. One or two yelled taunts about the doll carriage, and John was tempted to throw the wicker-bodied pest into the street.

Louise was silent. She wanted to offer consolation, for she felt that her escort was dangerously near tears over his humiliation, but she knew not how to begin. They sauntered along. John eyed the little piece of tape bound tin in the girl's hand with reawakening interest.

"Would you like it?" she asked graciously.

He murmured a husky "yes," and put the whistle in his mouth. After a few uncertain "J-u-u-dys," he trudged on again in silence.

As they stopped in front of her apartment, John had an inspiration.

"Say, Louise," he began awkwardly, "I don't want this doll carriage.

Want it?"

And though his words were ungracious, she caught the spirit which lay back of them and thanked him sweetly.

Thereupon, John skipped happily homeward to make his parents miserable with divers attempts to imitate the noted T. J.'s Punch and Judy show.

Two days later, he left the noise-maker lying on the floor by his bed, where Mrs. Fletcher confiscated it, and quiet reigned in the family again.

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH WE LEARN THE SECRET CODE OF THE "TIGERS"

For over two weeks after Professor O'Reilley had gathered up his properties and gone in quest of juvenile dimes in other neighborhoods, John waited at the corner of the school yard for Louise, gravely added her books to his own under his arm, and walked slowly home with her. His roommates were at first loud in their jeers, but gradually the primitive jests grew less and less frequent until the daily meeting became a part of the unnoticed routine of the school.

As for his friends, Silvey, after a few caustic remarks, forbore comment. Sid DuPree made the condescending admission that she wasn't half-bad after all. And the "Tigers" found it a distinct addition to their prestige to have a feminine rooter who danced around on the sidelines and exhorted them to even greater deeds of valor as they ground chance opponents into the cinders of the big lot.

Then it was, one Friday afternoon, that Miss Brown stacked her record books neatly in a little pile at one corner of the desk, placed the unmarked homework papers in one of the drawers, and made an innocent announcement which roused thoughts lying dormant in each boy's brain to instant life.

"Halloween is only a week from Sat.u.r.day. I want each member of the cla.s.s taking part in the exercises to have the lines learned perfectly. We'll rehea.r.s.e Monday afternoon."

The rest of the speech fell on deaf ears with John. Halloween but a short seven days away? Why, it seemed scarcely three mornings ago that he had started on the fis.h.i.+ng trip which nearly landed the big carp. The gang should be a big one, this time. Silvey and Sid, the Harrison kids, Mosher, Perry, and Red Brown were certainties, to say nothing of smaller groups which might join on that final night. He drew three solitary pennies from his pocket, arranged them, heads up, in a row on the top of his desk, and stared at them until the bell rang for dismissal.

With the coins in his hand, he swung back the door of the little school store, and hastened eagerly up to the proprietress. She greeted him with a smile, for the episode of the lemon drops was still fresh in her memory.

"Pea shooters in yet?" he queried anxiously.

They had arrived that very noon.

"Is there wood on the ends to keep the tin from cutting your mouth?"

She nodded. The door swung back again as Sid DuPree and Silvey stamped noisily in. It developed that they were on a similar errand, and presently Miss Thomas cut the cord around the big, blue bundle and gave them their weapons. The trio left in high spirits, puffing through the empty tubes, making imaginary shots at open windows, and bl.u.s.tering loudly about past performances, as they sauntered along. Silvey halted when the first of the grocery shops near the home corner was reached.

"Got any peas at your house, Sid?"

Sid shook his head. His family dined at a near-by hotel most of the time, and a reserve stock of any kind of food was a rarity. John mentioned a big jar of beans on his mother's pantry shelf.

"They're no good," said Silvey scornfully. "Get stuck in the pea shooter and jam it all up. Got any money, Sid?"

Sid had a penny. It was the day before the generous allowance from Mr.

DuPree was due, and his finances verged upon bankruptcy. Silvey had another, and John contributed the remainder of his little h.o.a.rd. That brought the total to four cents.

"S'pose he'll sell us that little?" asked John, as they gazed at the tempting array of vegetables in the store window. They opened the door timidly. The rotund proprietor stepped forward as he stammered his request.

"Of course!" He beamed on the trio good-naturedly. "What kind do you want, boys?"

"Split's the cheapest," said Silvey thoughtfully.

"But they don't go as far, and it's harder to hit anything with them."

They ordered the more expensive projectiles and divided them equally before they left the store. At the corner, the pharmacy was bombarded persistently until the drug apprentice sprang through the doorway and sent the boys flying down the street.

The pursuit slackened at last and the white coated youth turned to go back. Silvey halted to pant a defiant "Ya-a-a, ya-a-a. Can't catch us.

Can't catch us."

John pulled his chum's arm impatiently and pointed to the vacant house just three lots south of Silvey's home.

"Look," he whispered, suddenly cautious. "Some one's forgotten to close the front door tight. We can lock it from the inside and go up to the attic. n.o.body can get in to chase us, and we won't do a thing with our pea shooters, oh, no!"