The ambition had been inspired in the street, where he had seen a little boy who actually had a book, and was spelling out the words. Tom Coburn was now nominally1 six years old, though it was in the nature of things that of his age no exact record could be kept. His mother had changed his birthday so many times that he observed it whenever she said it had come round.
Bursting into the room with his eager question, he found her sitting by a window looking out at a blank wall. Given her feverish2 restlessness, the attitude called attention to itself. The apartment was poorer and dingier3 than any they had lived in hitherto, while it had not escaped his observation that she was living on the ragged4 edge of her nerves. This made him the more sorry for her, and the more loving. He put his hand on her shoulder, tenderly.
"What's the matter, mudda?"
It was one of the minutes when a touch made her frantic5. "Get away!"
He got away, not through fear, but because she pushed him. He didn't mind that, though the rejection6 hurt him inside. He stood in the middle of the floor, pity in his young countenance7, wondering what he could do for her, when she spoke8 again.
[Pg 26]
"I've got hardly any money left. I don't know what to do."
It was the first time his attention had been called to finance. He knew there was such a thing as money; he knew it had purchasing value; but he had not known its relation to himself.
"Why don't you get money where you got it before?"
"Because I ain't got a husband to die and leave me another five thousand dollars of insurance."
"And did you have, mudda?"
"Of course I had. What did you think?"
The question voiced his inner difficulty. He had not known what to think. Having observed that a fundamental social unit was formed of husbands and wives, he had also understood that husbands and wives could, in the terms which were the last to hang over from the lingo9 of his babyhood, be translated into faddas and muddas. They in turn implied children. The methods were mysterious, but the unit was so composed. The exception to this rule seemed to be himself. Though he had a mudda, he could not remember ever to have heard of a fadda. He had pondered on this deficiency more times than anyone suspected. The effort to link himself up with the human family was far more important to him now than the ways and means of getting cash. Standing10 pensive11, he peered into the blinding light, or the unfathomable darkness, whichever it may be, out of which comes human life.
"Mudda, did Gracie have a fadda?"
[Pg 27]
She snapped peevishly12, her gaze again turned outward to the stone wall. "Of course she did."
He came nearer to his point. "Did I?"
"I—I suppose so."
He approached still nearer. "Did I have the same fadda what Gracie had?"
"No, you hadn't." She caught herself up hurriedly, rounding on him in one of her fits of wrath13. "Yes, you had."
The inconsistency was evident. "Well, which was it, mudda?"
She jumped to her feet, threateningly. "Now you quit! The next thing you'll be saying is that your name is Whitelaw, and that I stole you. Take that, you nasty little brat14!"
A smack15 on the cheek brought the color to his face, and the tears to his eyes. "No, I won't, mudda. I won't say you stole me, or that my name is—" oddly enough he had caught it—"or that my name is Whitelaw. My name is Tom Coburn, and I'm your little boy."
Rushing at her in the big outpouring of his love, he threw his arms about her and cried against her waist. He cried so seldom that his grief drove her to one of her paroxysms of repentance16. Her self-reproaches abating17, all she could do to comfort him was to promise him a book, and begin to teach him to read.
The book was procured18 two days later, and by a method new to him. Doubtless some other means could have been adopted, but the necessity for sparing pennies had become imperative19. Moreover, she had
[Pg 28]
never willingly looked at print since the day when she opened a paper to find that, without knowing who she was, all the forces of the country had been organized against her.
They went out together. After traversing a series of streets he had never been in before they stopped in front of a little shop, in the window of which stationery20, ink, wallpaper, rubber bands, and books were arranged in artistic21 confusion. The impression on the fancy of a little boy already groping toward the treasures of the mind was like that made on the tourist in Dresden by the heaped up riches of the Grüne Gewölbe.
The geography of the shop was explained to him before entering. The stationery counter was on the right as soon as you passed the door. The children's books were opposite, on the left. Books forming a cheap circulating library were back of that, and opposite these, where the shop was dark, were the wallpapers, in small, tight rolls on shelves. She was going to inspect wallpapers. The woman in the shop would exhibit them. He would remain alone in the front part of the shop, and close to the counter with the children's books. He was to keep alert and attentive22, waiting for a sign which she would give him. When she turned round in the dark part of the shop, and called out, "Are you all right, darling?" he was to understand it as permissible23 to slip from the counter any small work on which he could lay his hands, and button it up inside his overcoat. He was to do it quickly, keeping his booty out of sight, and above all
[Pg 29]
saying nothing about it. The plan was exciting, with a savor24 of adventure and manly25 incentive26 to skill.
If in the Grüne Gewölbe you were told you could take anything you pleased you would have some of Tom Coburn's sense of enchantment27 as he stood by the book counter, waiting for the sign. He could see his mother dimly. More dimly still he could follow the movements of the shop-woman eager for a sale. Sample after sample, the wallpapers were unrolled, and hung on an easel where their flowers lighted the obscurity. Even at a distance he could do justice to their beauty, but more captivating than their glories were the wonders at his hand. Pages in which children and animals disported28 in colors far beyond those of nature were piled in neat little rows, and so tempting29 that he ached for the signal. He couldn't choose; there was too much to choose from. He would put out his hand without looking, guided by fate.
"Are you all right, darling?"
Curiously30 to the little boy, the question came just when he himself could perceive that the shop-woman had dived beneath the counter for another example of her wares31. All the conditions were propitious32. No one was entering the shop; no one was looking through the window. Without knowing the moralities of his act, he understood the need for secrecy33. He stretched forth34 his arm. His fingers touched paper. In the fraction of a fraction of a second the object was within his overcoat, and pressed to his pounding heart.
A few minutes later his mother came smiling and chatting down toward the exit, giving her address,
[Pg 30]
which the shop-woman jotted35 in a notebook. "I think it will have to be the pale-green background with the roses. The room is darkish, and it would light it up. But I'll decide by to-morrow, and let you know. Yes, that's right. Mrs. F.H. Grover, 321 Blaisdel Avenue. So much obliged to you. Good morning."
Having bowed themselves out they went some yards up the street before the little boy dared to express his new wonderment.
"Mudda, what did you say you was Mrs. F.H. Grover for? And we don't live on Blaisdel Avenue. We live on Orange Street."
"You mind your own business. Did you get your book? Well, that's what we went for, isn't it?"
The expedition having proved successful, it was tried on other planes. Now it was in the line of groceries; now in that of hardware; now in that of drygoods; now in that of fruit. Needed things could be used; useless things could be sold, especially after they had moved to distant neighborhoods. While the procedure didn't supply an income, it eked36 out very helpfully such income as remained.
It furnished, moreover, a motive37 in life, which was what they had lacked hitherto. There was something to which to give themselves. It was like devotion to an art, or even a religion. They could pursue it for its own sake. For her especially this outside interest appeased38 the wild something which wasted her within. She grew calmer, more reasonable. She slept and ate better. She had fewer fits of frenzy39.
With but faint pangs40 of misgiving41 the little boy
[Pg 31]
enjoyed himself. He enjoyed his finesse42; he enjoyed the pride his mother took in him. In proportion as they grew more expert they enlarged their field, often reversing their rôles. There were times when he created the distraction43, while she secreted44 any object within reach. They did this the more frequently after she became recognized as his superior in selection.
For a superior in selection the great department stores naturally offered the widest field for operation. They approached them, however, cautiously, going in and out and out and in for a good many days before they ventured on anything. When they did this at last it was amid the crowding and pushing of a bargain day.
The system evolved had the masterly note of simplicity45. The little boy carried a satchel46, of the kind in which school-boys sometimes carry books. He stood near his mudda, or farther away, according to the dictates47 of the moment's strategy. On the first occasion he kept close to her, sincerely admiring a display of colored silk scarves conspicuously48 marked down to the price at which it was intended, even before their importation, that they should be sold. Women thronged49 about the counter, the little boy and his mudda having much ado to edge themselves into the front to where these products of the loom50 could be handled.
The picking and choosing done, the mother still showed some indecision.
"I'll just ask my sister to step over here," she confided51 to the saleswoman. "Her judgment52 is so much better than mine. Run over, dear, to your Aunt
[Pg 32]
Mary," she begged of the boy, "and ask her to come and speak to me." Holding the scarf noticeably in her hands, she smiled at the saleswoman affably. "I'll just make room for this lady, who seems to be in a hurry."
She did not step back; she merely allowed herself to be crowded out. From the front row she receded53 to the second, from the second to the third. Keeping in sight of the saleswoman, she looked this way and that, plainly for Aunt Mary to appear. At times she made little dashes, as Aunt Mary seemed to come within sight. From these she did not fail to return, but on each occasion to a point more distant from that of her departure. With sufficient time the poor saleswoman, who had fifty other customers to attend to, would be likely to forget her, for a few minutes if no more.
The moment seemed to have come. With the scarf thrown jauntily54 over her arm where anyone could see it, the mother forced her way amid the crowds in search of her little boy. If intercepted55 she had her explanation. He had gone on an errand, and had not come back. When she had found him she would return and pay for the scarf, or decide not to take it. Her story couldn't help being plausible56.
"Aunt Mary" was a spot agreed upon near one of the side doors, and far from the center of interest in silk scarves. Agreed upon was also a little bit of comedy, for the benefit of possible lookers-on.
"Oh, my dear, I've kept you waiting so long. I'm so sorry. Tell your mother this is the best I could do for her. I knew you were waiting, so I didn't let
[Pg 33]
the lady wrap it up. Open your bag, and I'll put it in."
The bag closed, the little boy went out through one door, and his mother through another. The point where she was to rejoin him was not so far away but that he could walk to it alone.
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1
nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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dingier
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| adj.暗淡的，乏味的( dingy的比较级 )；肮脏的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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8
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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lingo
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| n.语言不知所云，外国话，隐语 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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13
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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14
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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15
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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16
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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17
abating
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| 减少( abate的现在分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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18
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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19
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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20
stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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21
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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27
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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disported
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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31
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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35
jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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36
eked
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| v.（靠节省用量）使…的供应持久( eke的过去式和过去分词 )；节约使用；竭力维持生计；勉强度日 | |
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37
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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38
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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39
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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40
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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41
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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42
finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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43
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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44
secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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45
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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46
satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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47
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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48
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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49
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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51
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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52
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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53
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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54
jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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55
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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56
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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