johnnie always started his own daily program with a taste of fresh air. he cared less for this way of spending his first fifteen free minutes than for many another. but as cis, with her riper wisdom, had pointed out, a short airing was necessary to a boy who had no red in his cheeks, and too much blue at his temples—not to mention a pinched look about the nose. johnnie regularly took a quarter of an hour out of doors.
he took it from the sill of the kitchen window—which was the only window in the barber flat.
this sill was breast-high from the kitchen floor, johnnie not being tall for his age. but having shoved up the lower sash with the aid of the broom handle, he did not climb to seat himself upon the ledge. for there was no iron fire escape outside; the nearest one came down the wall of the building to the kitchen window of the gamboni family, to the left. and so johnnie denied himself a perch on his sill—a dangerous position, as both mrs. kukor and cis pointed out to him.
their warnings were unnecessary. he could easily realize what a slip of the hand might mean: a plunge through space to the brick paving far below; and there an instant and horrible end. his picture of it was enough to guard him against accident. he contented himself with laying his body across the sill, with the longer and heavier portion of his small anatomy balanced securely against a shorter and lighter upper portion.[25]
he achieved this position and held it untiringly by the aid of the old rope coil. this coil was a relic of those distant times when there was no fire escape even outside the kitchen window of the gambonis, and the landlord provided every tenant with this cruder means of flying the building. the rope hung on a large hook just under the barber window, and was like a hard, smudged wheel, so completely had the years and the climate of the kitchen colored and stiffened it. and johnnie's weight was not enough to elongate its set curves.
it was a handy affair. using it as a stepping-place, and pulling himself up by his hands, he brought the lower end of his breastbone into contact with the sill. resting thus, upon his midriff, he was thoroughly comfortable, due to the fact that big tom's shirt and trousers thoroughly padded his ribby front. then he swelled his nostrils with his intaking of air, and his back heaved and fell, so that he was for all the world like some sort of a giant lizard, sunning itself on a rock.
against the dingy black-red of the old wall, his yellow head stood forth as gaudily as a flower. the flower nodded, too, as if moved by the breeze that was wreathing the smoke over all the roofs. for johnnie was taking a general survey of the scenery.
the barber window looked north, and in front of it were the rear windows of tenements that faced on a street. there was a fire escape at every other one of these windows—the usual spidery affair of black-painted iron, clinging vinelike to the bricks. and over each escape were draped garments of every hue and kind, some freshly washed, and drying; others airing. mingling with the apparel were blankets, quilts, mattresses, pillows and babies.
somehow johnnie did not like the view. he glanced down into the gloomy area, where a lean and untidy cat[26] was prowling, and where there sounded, echoing, the undistinguishable harangue of the fretful italian janitress.
now johnnie's general survey was done. he always made it short, wasting less than one minute in looking down or around. it was beauty that drew him—beauty and whatever else could start up in his mind the experiences he most liked. his face upturned, one hand flung across his brows to shield his eyes, for the light outside the sill seemed dazzling after the semidark of the flat, he scanned first the opposite roof edges, a whole story higher than he, where sparrows were alighting, and where smoke plumes curled like veils of gossamer; next he scanned the sky.
above the roofline of the tenements was a great, changing patch which he called his own, and which he found fascinating. and not only for what it actually showed him, which was splendid enough, but for the eternal promise of it. at any moment, what might not come slipping into sight!
what he longed most to catch sight of was—a stork. those babies across on the fire escapes, storks had brought them (which was the main reason why all the families kept bedclothes out on the barred shelves; a quilt or a pillow made a soft place on which to leave a new baby). a stork had brought cis—she had had her own mother's word for it many times before that mother died. a stork had brought johnnie, too—and grandpa, mrs. kukor, the prince of wales, the janitress; in fact, every one.
"i wonder what kind of a stork was it that fetched big tom!" johnnie once had exclaimed, straightway visioning a black and forbidding bird.
storks, according to cis, were as bashful as they were clever, and did not come into sight if any one was watching. they were big enough to be seen easily, however, as[27] proven by this: frequently one of them came floating down with twins!
"down from where?" johnnie had wanted to know, liking to have his knowledge definite.
"from their nests, silly," cis had returned. but had been forced to confess that she did not know where storks built their nests. "in central park, i guess," she had added. (central park was as good a place as any.)
"oh, you guess!" johnnie had returned, disgusted.
he had never given up his watching, nor his hope of some day seeing a big baby-bringer. he searched his sky patch now. but could see only the darting sparrows and, farther away, some larger birds that wheeled gracefully above the city. many of these were seagulls. the others were pigeons, and cis had told him that people ate them. this fact hurt him, and he tried not to think about it, but only of their flight. he envied them their freedom in the vast milkiness, their power to penetrate it. beyond the large birds, and surely as far away as the sun ever was, some great, puffy clouds of a blinding white were shouldering one another as they sailed northward.
out of the wisdom possessed by one of her advanced age, cis had told him several astonishing things about this field of sky. what barber considered a troublesome, meddlesome, wasteful school law was, at bottom, responsible for her knowing much that was true and considerable which johnnie held was not. and one of her unbelievable statements (this from his standpoint) was to the effect that his sky patch was constantly changing,—yes, as frequently as every minute—because the earth was steadily moving. and she had added the horrifying declaration that this movement was in the nature of a spin, so that, at night, the whole of new york city, including skyscrapers, bridges, water, streets, vehicles and population, was upside down in the air[28]!
"aw, it ain't so!" he cried, though cis reminded him (and rather sternly, for her) that in doing so he was questioning a teacher who drew a magnificent salary for spreading just such statements. "and if they pay her all that money, they're crazy! don't y' know that if we was t' come upside down, the chimnies'd fall off all the buildin's? and east river'd spill?"
cis countered with a demonstration. she filled big tom's lunch pail with water and whirled it, losing not a drop.
but he went further, and proved her wrong—that is so far as the upside-down of it was concerned. he did this by staying awake the whole of the following night and noting that the city stayed right-side up throughout the long hours. cis, poor girl, had been pitifully misinformed.
but the changing of the sky he believed. he believed it because at night there was the kind of sky overhead that had stars in it; also, sometimes, a moon. but by dawn, the starred sky was gone—been left behind, or got slipped to one side; in its place was a plain, unpatterned stretch of heaven which, in due time, was once more succeeded by a firmament adorned and a-twinkle.
when cis returned home one evening and declared that the forewoman at the factory had asserted that there were stars everywhere in the sky by day as well as by night, and no plain spots at all anywhere; and, further, that if anybody were at the bottom of a deep well he—or she—could see stars in the sky in the daytime, johnnie had fairly hooted at the tale. and had finally won cis over to his side.
her last doubt fled when, having gone down into a dark corner of the area the sunday following, she found, as did he, that no stars were to be seen anywhere. after that she believed in his theory of starless sky-spots; starless, but not plain. for in addition to the sun, many other[29] things lent interest to that field of blue—clouds, rain, sleet, snow, and fog, all in their time or season. also, besides the birds, he occasionally glimpsed whole sheets of newspapers as they ambitiously voyaged above the house tops. and how he longed for them to blow against his own window, so that he might read them through and through!
sometimes he saw a flying machine. the first one that had floated across his sky had very nearly been the death of him. because, forgetting danger in his rapturous excitement, he had leaned out dangerously, and might have fallen if he had not suddenly thought of grandpa, and thrown himself backward into the kitchen to fetch the wheel chair. the little old soldier had only been mildly diverted by the sight. johnnie, however, had viewed the passing of the biplane in amaze, though later on he came to accept the conquest of the air as just one more marvel in a world of marvels.
but his wonder in the sky itself never lessened. about its width he did not ponder, never having seen more than a narrow portion of it since he was big enough to do much thinking. but, oh, the depth of it! he could see no sign of a limit to that, and mrs. kukor declared there was none, but that it reached on and on and on and on! to what? just to more of the on and on. it never stopped.
one night cis and he, bent over the lip of the window, she upholstered on a certain excelsior-filled pillow which was very dear to her, and he padded by big tom's cast-offs, had attempted to realize what mrs. kukor had said. "on—and on—and on—and on," they had murmured. until finally just the trying to comprehend it had become overpowering, terrible. cis declared that if they kept at it she would certainly become dizzy and fall out. and so they had stopped.
but johnnie was not afraid to think about it, awful as[30] it was. it was at night, mostly, that he did his thinking. at night the birds he loved were all asleep. but so was barber; and johnnie, with no fear of interruption, could separate himself from the world, could mentally kick it away from under him, and lightly project his thin little body up to the stars.
whenever fog or clouds screened the sky patch, hiding the stars, a radiance was thrown upon the heavens by the combined lights of the city—a radiance which, johnnie thought, came from above; and he was always half expecting a strange moon to come pushing through the cloud screen, or a new sun, or a premature dawn!
now looking up into the deep blue he murmured, "on—and—on—and on," to himself. and he wondered if the gulls or the pigeons ever went so far into the blue that they lost their way, and never came back—but just flew, and flew, and flew, till weariness overcame them, when they dropped, and dropped, and dropped, and dropped!
a window went up in front of him, across the area, and a voice began to call at him mockingly: "girl's hair! girl's hair! all he's got is girl's hair! all he's got is girl's hair!"
he started back as if from a blow. then reaching a quick hand to the sash, he closed the window and stepped down.
the voice belonged to a boy who had once charged mrs. kukor with going to church on a saturday. but even as johnnie left the sill he felt no anger toward the boy save on mrs. kukor's account. because he knew that his hair was like a girl's. if the boy criticized it, that was no more than johnnie constantly did himself.
the second his feet touched the splintery floor he made toward the table, caught up the teapot, went to lean his head over the sink, and poured upon his offending locks the whole remaining contents of the pot—leaves and all.[31] for cis (that mine of wisdom) had told him that tea was darkening in its effect, not only upon the lining of the tummy, which was an interesting thought, but upon hair. and while he did not care what color he was inside, darker hair he longed to possess. so, his bright tangles a-drip, he set the teapot in among the unwashed pans and fell to rubbing the tea into his scalp.
and now at last he was ready to begin the really important matters of the day.
but just which of many should he choose for his start? he stood still for a moment, considering, and a look came into his face that was all pure radiance.
high in the old crumbling building, as cut off from the world about him as if he were stranded with grandpa on some mountain top, he did not fret about being shut in and away; he was glad of it. he was spared the taunts of boys who did not like his hair or his clothes; but also he had the whole flat to himself. day after day there was no one to make him do this, or stop his doing that. he could handle what he liked, dig around in any corner or box, eat when he wished. most important of all, he could think what he pleased!
he never dwelt for any length of time upon unhappy pictures—those which had in them hate or revenge. his brain busied itself usually with places and people and events which brought him happiness.
for instance, how he could travel! and all for nothing! his calloused feet tucked round the legs of the kitchen chair, his body relaxed, his expression as rapt as any buddhist priest's, his big hands locked about his knees, and his eyes fastened upon a spot on the wall, he could forsake the barber flat, could go forth, as if out of his own body, to visit any number of wonderful lands which lay so near that he could cross their borders in a moment. he could sail vast east rivers in marvelous tugs. he[32] could fly superbly over great cities in his own aeroplane.
and all this travel brought him into contact with just the sort of men and women he wanted to know, so politely kind, so interesting. they never tired of him, nor he of them. he was with them when he wanted to be—instantly. or they came to the flat in the friendliest way. and when its unpleasant duties claimed him—the monday wash, the tuesday ironing, the saturday scrubbing, or the regular everyday jobs such as dishes, beds, cooking, bead-stringing, and violet-making—frequently they helped him, lightening his work with their charming companionship, stimulating him with their example and praise.
oh, they were just perfect!
and how quiet, every one of them! so often when the longshoreman returned of an evening, his bloodshot eyes roving suspiciously, a crowd of handsomely dressed people filled the kitchen, and he threaded that crowd, yet never guessed! when big tom spoke, the room usually cleared; but later on johnnie could again summon all with no trouble whatever, whether they were great soldiers or presidents, kings or millionaires.
of the latter he was especially fond; in particular, of a certain four. and as he paused now to decide upon his program, he thought of that quartet. why not give them a call on the telephone this morning?
he headed for the morris chair. under its soiled seat-cushion was a ragged copy of the new york telephone directory, which just nicely filled in the sag between the cushion and the bottom of the chair. he took the directory out—as carefully as if it were some volume not possible of duplication.
it was his only book. once, while cis was still attending school, he had shared her speller and her arithmetic, and made them forever his own (though he did not realize it yet) by the simple method of photographing each on[33] his brain—page by page. and it was lucky that he did; for when cis's brief schooldays came to an end, big tom took the two textbooks out with him one morning and sold them.
the directory was the prized gift of mrs. kukor's daughter, mrs. reisenberger, who was married to a pawnbroker, very rich, and who occupied an apartment (not a flat)—very fine, very expensive—in a great lexington avenue building that had an elevator, and a uniformed black elevator man, very stylish. the directory meant more to johnnie than ever had cis's books. he knew its small-typed pages from end to end. among the splendid things it advertised, front, back, and at the bottom of its pages, were many he admired. and he owned these whenever he felt like it, whether automobiles or animals, cash registers or eyeglasses. but such possessions, fine as they were, took second place in his interest. what thrilled him was the list of subscribers—the living, breathing thousands that waited his call at the other end of a wire! and what people they were!—the world-celebrated, the fabulously wealthy, the famously beautiful (as cis herself declared), and the socially elect!
of course there was still others who were prominent, such as storekeepers, prize fighters, hotel owners and the like (again it was cis who furnished the data). but johnnie, as has been seen, aimed high always; and he was particular in the matter of his telephonic associations. except when shopping, he made a strict rule to ring up only the most superior.
there was a clothesline strung down the whole length of the kitchen. this johnnie lowered on a washday to his own easy reach. at other times it was raised out of the way of big tom's head.
he let the line down. then pushing the kitchen chair to that end of the rope which was farthest from the stove[34] and the sleeping old man, he stood upon it; and having considered a moment whether he would first call up mr. astor, or mr. vanderbilt, or mr. carnegie, or mr. rockefeller, decided upon mr. astor, and gave a number to a priceless central who was promptness itself, who never rang the wrong bell, or reported a busy wire, or cut him off in the midst of an engrossing conversation.
this morning, as usual, he got his number at once. "good-mornin', mister astor!" he hailed breezily. "this is johnnie smith.—'oh, good-mornin', mister smith! how are y'?'—i'm fine!—'that's fine!'—how are you, mister astor?—'oh, i'm fine.'—that's fine!—'i was just wonderin', mister smith, if you would like to go out ridin' with me.'—yes, i would, mister astor. i think it'd be fine!—'y' would? well, that's fine! and, mister smith, i'll come by for y' in about ten minutes. and if ye'd like to take a friend along——'"
there now followed, despite the appointment set for so early a moment, a long and confidential exchange of views on a variety of subjects. when this was finished, johnnie rang, in turn, messrs. vanderbilt, carnegie and rockefeller, sparing these gentlemen all the time in the world. (when any one of them did indeed call for him, fulfilling an appointment, what a gorgeous blue plush hat the millionaire wore! and what a royally fur-collared coat!)
now johnnie put aside the important engagement he had made with mr. astor, and, being careful first to find the right numbers in the book, got in touch with numerous large concerns, and ordered jewelry, bicycles, limousines, steam boilers and paper drinking cups with magnificent lavishness.
he had finished ordering his tenth automobile, which was to be done up in red velvet to match the faithful buckle, when there fell upon his quick ear the sound of a step. in the next instant he let go of the clothesline, sent[35] the telephone book slipping from the chair at his feet, and plunged like a swimmer toward that loose ball of gingham under the sink.
and not a moment too soon; for scarcely had he tossed the tied strings over his tea-leaf-sprinkled hair, when the door opened, and there, coat on arm, great chest heaving from his climb, bulgy eyes darting to mark the condition of the flat, stood—barber![36]
