Pippin; A Wandering Flame

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  Pippin ... breaks out into full-throated song:

  "Knives and scissors to grind, oh! Have 'em done to your mind, oh!" [PAGE 155]]

  PIPPIN _A WANDERING FLAME_

  BY LAURA E. RICHARDS AUTHOR OF "FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE," "ELIZABETH FRY," ETC.

 

  FRONTISPIECE

  D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK LONDON 1917

  COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

  Printed in the United States of America

  TO PIPPIN WHO WILL NEVER KNOW

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. PIPPIN SAYS GOOD-BY 1

  II. PIPPIN MAKES A FRIEND 15

  III. PIPPIN FINDS A TRADE, "TEMP'RY" 29

  IV. PIPPIN GOES TO CYRUS 42

  V. CYRUS POOR FARM 62

  VI. PIPPIN SINGS FOR HIS SUPPER 74

  VII. FLORA MAY 96

  VIII. PIPPIN SETS BREAD AND LAYS A PLAN 105

  IX. PIPPIN ENCOUNTERS THE RED RUFFIAN 111

  X. PIPPIN LOOKS FOR THE GRACE OF GOD 122

  XI. THE CHAPLAIN READS HIS MAIL 132

  XII. NIPPER 142

  XIII. ENTER MARY-IN-THE-KITCHEN 150

  XIV. PIPPIN LOOKS FOR OLD MAN BLOSSOM'S LITTLE GAL 159

  XV. PIPPIN MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 172

  XVI. PIPPIN ENCOUNTERS THE GIDEONS 185

  XVII. THREE TETE-A-TETES 199

  XVIII. PIPPIN KEEPS WATCH, WITH RESULTS 210

  XIX. A KNOT IN THE THREAD 220

  XX. THE PERPLEXITIES OF PIPPIN 234

  XXI. MARY BLOSSOM 247

  XXII. THE OLD MAN 261

  XXIII. THE CHAPLAIN SPEAKS HIS MIND 272

  XXIV. PRIMAL FORCES 281

  XXV. PIPPIN OVERCOMES 290

  XXVI. PIPPIN PRAISES THE LORD 297

  PIPPIN

  PIPPIN

  CHAPTER I

  PIPPIN SAYS GOOD-BY

  The chaplain seemed to be waiting for some one. He was sitting in hisoffice, as usual at this hour of the morning the little bare office in acorner of Shoreham State Prison, with its worn desk and stool, its chairfacing the window (what tales that chair could tell, if it had power ofspeech!), its piles of reports and pamphlets, its bookshelf within arm'sreach of the desk. (Bible, Concordance, Shakespeare, the "Life of JohnHoward," Pickwick, the "Golden Treasury"; these, thumbed and shabby,jostled the latest works on prison reform and criminology. An expressivebookshelf, as all bookshelves are.)

  One would not have picked out Lawrence Hadley for a prison chaplain; ifchaplain at all, he surely belonged in the army. Look, bearing,voice--that clear ringing voice we remember so well--all bespoke thesoldier; and a soldier he was, not only because of his service in thePhilippines--he was in the army till his health broke down--but becausehe was born one.

  As I said, he seemed to be waiting for some one. His eyes were watchingthe yard, taking note of each figure that came and went, seeing that oldPete was walking lame, that French Bill was drooping and poking hishead forward, a bad sign with him; that Mike was whistling, a good signalways; but while his eyes looked, his ears listened; and now, when itseemed that he had been listening a long time, came the familiar knock.

  "Ah!" The chaplain's chair, which had been tilted back on two legs formeditation, came down on four for action. "Come in!"

  "Pippin, sir!"

  "Come in, Pippin! I was looking for you."

  A young man entered and closed the door behind him, making no sound. Hemoved with an extraordinary grace and swiftness, like some wildcreature, yet there was no haste or hurry about him. At first glance,the two men were of something the same build, both tall and squareshouldered, holding their chins well up and looking straight forward;but there the resemblance ceased. The chaplain was sandy fair, with blueeyes as kindly as they were piercing; the other was all brown: brown,crisp, curling hair, brown skin, brown flashing eyes. The eyes were notflashing now, though; they were as nearly dim as they could be, forPippin had been saying good-by, and now was come the hardest parting ofall.

  "Well, here I be, Elder!" he said. "I s'pose it's time I was off."

  "Yes!" said Mr. Hadley. "Yes, I suppose it is. Well, Pippin, we're goingto miss you here. The place won't be the same without you."

  Pippin made as if to speak, but the words did not come.

  "I just want you to know," the chaplain went on slowly, "what a helpyou've been to me this past year, especially the past six months. Idon't know--I really do not know--how I shall get on without you,Pippin!"

  Pippin cleared his throat and spoke huskily.

  "Elder," he said, "say the word and I'll stay! Honest I will. I'd beproud, sir, if I could help you, any way, shape, or manner. I would so!"

  The chaplain laughed rather ruefully, and rose from his chair. "Thatwould never do!" he said. "No, no, Pippin, you mustn't think I'm notjust as glad to have you go as I am sorry to lose you. You'll be helpingoutside instead of inside, that's all. We shall not let go of youaltogether. How about Sandy Colt, Pippin?" he asked with an abruptchange of voice. "You've been with him a good deal this past month, I'venoticed. How about him?"

  Pippin considered a moment.

  "Sandy," he said, "is all right; or I think so, Elder. I've been roundwith him, as you say. I kind o' thought mebbe you got him put on bindin'with me?"

  The chaplain nodded.

  "I kind o' thought it squinted that way. Well, sir, that boy is aboutready to go on the straight; leastways he's sick to death of crooks andtheir games, and that's the first step. I--kind o'--think--" the wordscame more and more slowly--"it's about time to leave Sandy alone withthe money box, Elder."

  "What do you mean?" The chaplain looked up sharply; met a glance full ofmeaning, and smiled. "So you knew, eh?" he said musingly. "I wondered ifyou did, Pippin."

  "Know!" Pippin's eyes were shining now, and he spoke with suppressedenergy. "What would you think of it? Lemme tell you, Elder! I've wantedto tell you ever since. I'd ben tryin'--tryin' hard. I'd found theLord--found Him for keeps, and I knowed it; but yet, along that summer,after--that day, you know, sir--I couldn't seem to keep holt of Him_stiddy_. Now wouldn't that give you a pain, sir? Honest, wasn't itawful? But 'twas so!"

  "Not awful in the least, Pippin! Did you ever see a baby learning towalk? He'll tumble down twice for every new step he takes. You werelearning to walk, Pippin."

  "Well, I got the tumbles all right!" Pippin shook his head. "Here wasthe Lord helpin' me, helpin' me good, and you too, Elder, and Warden,and Pete: and yet with all that--gorry to 'Liza!--with all that, if thedevil didn't get in his licks too, call me pudd'n head! He'd wait till Iwas dog-tired, mebbe, or some one had spoke ugly to me. 'Huh!' he'd say,'you're no good; what makes you think you are? You're spoilin' afirst-rate crook,' he'd say, 'and you'll never make anything else,'cause that's where your gifts lie,' he'd say. 'Nobody'll ever trus
tyou, either!' he'd say. 'Sweat all you like, and pray all you're a mindto, and sing your insides out,' he'd say; ''twon't make any difference.A crook you are, and a crook folks'll think you!' he'd say."

  "But you knew better!"

  "Course I knew better; but there's times when knowin' don't seem tohelp; and them times he'd get me down, Satan would, and kneel on mychist, and lam into me--Green grass! he _would_ lam in!"

  Pippin was silent a moment; the chaplain watched him, silent too.

  "Come one day," Pippin went on, "he got me bad. I tried singin', butthat wouldn't do; I tried prayin', and all I could make out was the Lordwas real sorry for me, but I'd got to play this hand alone. When youcome round I tried to speak up and answer pleasant and cheerful, but Iguess I made a poor fist of it. I see you look me over; then you wentoff kind o' thinkin', whistlin' that tune--what is it, that tune yougive us when you're thinkin' somethin' up, Elder?"

  The chaplain laughed outright.

  "'Am I a Soldier of the Cross?'" he said. "You know too much, Pippin."

  "I know this much!" cried Pippin. "I know you sent for me half an hourlater, and I come. Here were you, and there was I, and on the table wasa box full of money, and you were counting it over; might have been ahundred dollars."

  "Just!" said Mr. Hadley. "My quarter's salary!"

  "Looked to be! Well, sir, I don't need to tell you. You began to ask meabout my cell, and was I careful about this, that or the other; all of asudden you pulls up and looks at your watch. 'Hello!' you says. 'Teno'clock! I've got to go and speak to the Warden about something. Justwatch this money till I come back, will you, Pippin?' And off you gofull chisel, and leave me--"

  Pippin's voice broke, and he brushed his hand across his eyes. Thechaplain laid a quiet hand on his shoulder; his own eyes were dim for amoment.

  "And you think Sandy is ready for that?" he said quietly.

  "I do, sir!" Pippin straightened his shoulders and threw up his chinagain. "I know for myself that was the devil's last kick. I've never hadno more trouble with him since that day; and I think Sandy's time hascome to find there's somebody trusts him and looks to him to be adecent chap from now on. Then there's Tom Kidd--but I'm keepin' you,Elder! Mebbe you was goin' out, sir? Pleasant day like this--"

  "I'm keeping you!" The kind hand still on his shoulder, Pippin wasgently propelled toward the door. "Time you were starting, Pippin, sinceyou are determined to go in this way, without help or company. I'mcoming down with you, and you can tell me about Tom as we go."

  Down the stone stairs, talking earnestly as he went, pausing now andthen for the unlocking of an iron door which clanged "good-by" as itshut behind him; through the narrow corridors whose brick walls shonewith the rubbing of generations of shoulders; through the guard room,pausing here to shake the friendly hands of a dozen turnkeys, clerks,attendants, all wishing him good luck, all bidding him not forget themfor they would sure miss him; down the final stairs at last went Pippin,the chaplain still at his shoulder, through the door behind which he hadleft hope three years ago, to find her again on the other side--out intothe air and sunlight, a free man.

  Now came the last handclasp--long and firm, saying many things; the lastclear glance of love and trust between blue eyes and brown; the lastword.

  "And remember, my son, that wherever you look for the grace of God,there you will be pretty sure to find it!"

  "That's right, Elder!" said Pippin. "Amen! I'll look for it, sure! AndI'll never forget all you've done for me. So long, Elder!"

  "Good-by, my son! Good-by, Pippin! The Lord be with you!"

  The chaplain stood on the steps, watching the lithe, alert figure as itstrode along the highway; coming to the corner, it turned, waved asalute and vanished.

  The chaplain sighed; he was glad, heartily glad, that Pippin was "out,"but he would miss him sadly; everybody would miss him. He had been thesunshine of the place, these six months past. He looked up at the graywalls, the frowning windows, and gave a little shiver; sighed andsmiled, squared his shoulders, and went back into the prison.

  Pippin, too, as he waved his farewell at the corner, smiled and sighedand squared his shoulders, then he thrust out his jaw in a way theparson knew well.

  "Now, bo," said Pippin, "it's up to you! Green grass! I'll miss thatman, I sure will. I'll miss him, and the Warden, and them little tads ofhis, and Pete, and--gee! I'll miss the whole darned show. Now wouldn'tthat give you a pain? Let's look it over a spell!"

  He looked carefully about, and, finding a large stone, flicked the dustfrom it with a clean pocket handkerchief (which he then inspectedanxiously, shaking every speck of dust from it before repocketing it)and, after laying down the bundle he carried, sat down.

  "It is up to you, son!" he repeated. "The Lord will see to His end, youneedn't worry about that any; you'll find your own enough to heft. TheElder knows a lot!" he added meditatively. "He doesn't give you no easytalk about blessin's an' golden crowns an' that: no, sir! 'You've got tobehave,' he says, 'or you'll be back here again. And the way for you tobehave is to hold fast to the grace that God has given you and to gethold of what He has given to others.' Yes, sir! Straight talk is whatElder Hadley gives. An' I'm goin' to do them things; just watch me! Andto begin with, I'm goin' to do some forgettin', a heap of it. I'm goin'to forget the crib, an' the gang, and the--the _en_tire b'ilin'! Yes,sir! I'll say good-by to 'em." He stopped, and taking off his cap,turned it slowly round and round in his hands. "Say good-by to 'em!" herepeated under his breath.

  He stared before him, as one seeing visions at once strange andfamiliar. A cellar, dark and noisome, under a city street: an old womanin a long blue cloak and a white cap, crouching over a spark of fire: ahalf-naked child playing on the naked floor: in a corner a man sprawlinghalf-drunk, smoking a clay pipe. The child stumbles over the man's feet,is clutched and held fast in one hand while the other shakes the burningdottle from the pipe on the little bare back.

  "To larn ye manners!" growls the man.

  The woman rises painfully, totters across the cellar and brings down herstaff with astonishing force on the man's head--"She must have been ahundred!" Pippin thinks--bidding him get out for the drunken brute heis. Whack! Whack! The second blow brings the man staggering to his feetand out of the door, protesting thickly, "I was only larnin' himmanners! He'll remember that, see if he don't."

  The child shrieked when the fire touched him; he is now whimperingpiteously. The old woman finds a rag and rubs something cooling on hisback, muttering some words--what were they? Pippin racks corners of hismemory.

  "White--white--patter, was it?" And then, "St. Peter's brother,"and--no, it is gone. But he knows the other! He sees her now take thechild's two hands in hers, hears her croon the unforgettable words tothe unforgettable tune:

  There was an old man, And he was mad, And he ran up the steeple. He took off His great big hat, And waved it over the people!

  "I won't forget that!" said Pippin. "No, nor I won't forget the whole ofGranny Faa: some parts I'll keep. She was good to me many a time, andgive me snuff out of her box. But I'll forget Dod Bashford all right.Just watch me--"

  He paused, for the vision came again. A dark night, a dark house,shrubbery gleaming wet about it. A match flickers, carefully shelteredby brawny hands, and shows a small window, as of a pantry, standingpartly open. Somebody is bidden with an oath to "boost the kid up!" Aboy of ten is seized by other hands and raised to the window. "Get in!"says a rough whisper. "Round to your left and open the first door. Ifyou make a noise, I'll cut your heart out!" For some reason--it is notclear what--the boy is unwilling, hangs back, struggling in air, pushingaway from the window-sill toward which he is thrust. "Will you?" growlsthe rough voice, and the lighted match is held to his leg. Still thechild struggles dumbly for a little; at last, with a smothered shriek,he gives up and climbs in at the window.

  "Green grass!" mutters Pippin. "I'll forget _that_: watch me!"

  He blinked twice or thrice, then straightened himse
lf. "There!" saidPippin. "There ain't no such folks in the world. I don't know as thereever was--except old Granny! I'll keep her in it, 'long of them thingsshe done for me. And anyhow Granny was out of it before we begun to doauto sneakin', country houses, and like that. She was dead by that time.Now, son, you think of all the _good_ folks you know. Count 'em over,what say? Take the other taste out of your mouth, see? There's ElderHadley first and foremost: keep your eyes on him right straight along:he's like--like a window that's open, and no bars to it, and you see theLord through it, some way. Then there's the Warden, and Mis'Warden--gee! remember that dinner she sent me in one day I pulled herlittle tad out the water? There was--" Pippin's eyes kindled--"roastbeef, mashed potatoes--" he was checking the items off on hisfingers--"fried parsnips, pickles, apple pie--green grass! that was adinner! And she sent it to me by name, and her thanks, Elder Hadleysaid, all because I see that kid fall into the cistern and hauled himout. Well! and the kid--some kid that!--and he follerin' me round afterthat, every chanst he got; and the others, too, and nothin' doin' but Imust sing to 'em. And then old Pete! gee! Pete'll miss me, and me him.You make brooms 'longside of a guy for a year and you know what eachother thinks; and Pete is _all right_!"

  He paused once more, seeing things. No distant vision this time, but thefamiliar scene on which he had just turned his back--forever, he and theElder hoped. A long vaulted room, bare and bright; forty or fifty men atwork making brooms; the clean, sweet smell of the broom corn almostdriving out the prison smell--almost!--near the door, under the watchfuleye of an official, two men working together, binding and clipping,himself and Pete. Pete was talking, as he had talked that last day theyworked together. He knew Pippin was going out, and he, Pete, was in forlife. Seemed an awful waste, Pippin thought. Just because his mad gotaway with him once--Hear Pete telling his story in a husky rumble,cheerfully, as a matter of course, this fourteen years now.

  "I was cuttin' and rollin' my tobarker on the palm of my hand, and theold woman come along and give me a slap in the face. I shoved her offwith my elbow and went on rollin' my tobarker. She come up again and hitme over the head with a stove lifter. I forgot I had my knife in myhand, and I just hit out and jabbed it into her. I hadn't oughter doneit, but yet it oughter _been_ done, 'pears like."

  "Old Pete! And him, you might say, the Warden's right hand now, afterten years in solitary under the old management. Warden Merrow had himout of that in good shape, now I tell you! Takes care of the cows andpigs, sleeps with 'em, or so handy by he could hear if a shoat had theteethache, or like that. Warden sends him off to buy cows, order in hispocket, proud as a peacock; back in three days and he _is_ back, on thedot. I tell ye! That's the way!"

  Pippin lifts his chin, squares his shoulders once more. "Look at here!"he says. "If I'm goin' to set here all day belly-achin' over the folksback there, I mought as well _go_ back there and stay back! It's bein'on my own, you see, after bein' a bunch of corn in a broom, as you mightsay. Green grass! I wish't I had some folks of my own!"

  A silence followed. Pippin studied the road before him, drawing patternsin the dust with his stick. Mike Hooligan give him that stick: it comefrom Ireland, and was the pride of Mike's heart; he wouldn't take goldfor it. Now wouldn't that--He examined the stick carefully. It was anexcellent blackthorn with an anchor carved on the head. Mike had been asailor, and was "in" for making too free with a marlinspike on ashipmate's head. Finally, holding it up before him, he addressed it asif it were a living creature.

  "Well! I ain't got no folks, see? But supposin' I had--what I wouldsay--I'd have 'em dandy, that's what! And--what's to prevent my kind o'keepin' in the back of my head that if I _had_ folks, and they _was_dandy--and they would be, for the reason I wouldn't have the otherkind--why, I would act accordin' _to_. See? Well, you would! Now lemmetell you about the folks I'd have. Kind o' get 'em set up, see, and thenI can carry 'em along, some kind of way, in the back of my head, andthey'll do me good and keep out--other things."

  Whistling softly, he took off his cap and turned it slowly round andround, considering.

  "I'll have me a ma first!" he said. "She'll have a blue dress and awhite apron, and--sort o' pink cheeks, and when she speaks, she'll sorto' smile all over her face. 'Sonny,' she'll say, 'sonny, come here andI'll give you a piece of pie!' No! I'm goin' too fast. 'Sonny,' she'llsay, 'have you washed your hands? Go wash them good, and _then_ comehere and I'll give you a piece of pie.' That's the talk. Golly!--thinkof her carin' whether my hands was clean or not. She would, though; youbet she would! I've seen fellers as had that kind of ma. We'd have realgood times together, Ma and me! I'll have me a pa, too. Lemme see whatkind I'll have!" Again he paused, considering, his head on one side, hisface grave and earnest. "Tall, I guess, and big; big enough to lick meif he wanted to, but he wouldn't want to, and I wouldn't make him wantto, neither. Smoke a pipe, and talk kind o' slow. Fought in the CivilWar, I expect Pa would have, and no end of stories to tell. When he camein from--from--I expect he'd be a farmer: that's it! that's it! Nicewhite farmhouse with green blinds and a garding and white ducks and allthe rest of it--Green grass! I wish't I was feedin' the ducks thisminute!--Well, when Pa came in, he'd set down and smoke his pipe andthen's my time. 'Tell me about Shiloh!' I'll say, or Gettysburg, or someplace else. And pa'll take me between his knees--I see the Warden takehis boy so, and it stays by me yet--and smoke, and talk, and gee! I'llhear the bullets zip and see the flag--old Pa! he'd be a good one,surely! Then--I wouldn't have no grandmother, because there's GrannyFaa; no kin to me, but she give me snuff--but--there's brothers andsisters. How about them?"

  Pippin whistled "There was an old man" carefully through three times,weighing, sifting, comparing. At last, "My brother ought to be a baby!"he announced. "That's the best way. See? That way I can watch him grow,and see him cut his teeth, and learn him manners--" he frowned, and drewhis breath in sharply; then he shook himself and squared his shoulders."Didn't I tell you I'd forgot that?" he said. "But my sister'd be inbetween. Call her about four; pretty little gal--pretty little gal--"

  Once more the vision! An alley, or narrow court, where clothes aredrying. A mite of a girl trying to take the clothes down. She cannotreach high enough; she stamps her little foot and cries. A boy comes andtakes them down for her.

  "Thank you, boy!" she says prettily.

  "Say Pippin!" says the boy.

  "Pip-_pin_!" cries the child in a clear, high little voice.

  Pippin runs his fingers through his close-curling hair with a puzzledlook.

  "Now--now--" he said; "when was that? 'Twas after the first things I'veforgot, and before the second. Pretty little gal! What was her name now?Polly? No! Dolly? No! Well, anyhow, I guess I'll have my sister likethat little gal. Say her name was Dolly--and _that_ ain't right somehow,but 'twill do. Now! you understand? Them's the folks I'd have--if I had'em! See?"

  He nodded to the stick, rose from his stone, and stretched his arms witha cheerful gesture; then he took up his bundle, a large bandanna neatlytied (it held a change of linen; the chaplain had offered him a smalltrunk and a second suit of clothes, but he liked to travel light, andcould wash as he went along, he said) and swinging it over his shoulderon the end of his stick, Pippin took the road.