CHAPTER X
Jimmie's Education
"Don't it beat the Dutch, Fagin, the way things is goin' in Bucktown?" said Mike, the bartender, to Fagin one afternoon. "The gang all seem ter be on the bum. When I went home fer dinner this noon, my old lady said she was goin' ter the Mission with Mrs. Cook and Bill ter-night. Ever since that funeral of Moore's, she's been sendin' the kids to the Mission Sunday school and not one of 'em will come inside of this place now. I've been thinkin' I'd put a stop to the whole business and not let her nor the kids go near that place, but I guess I'll keep my hands off until they git to interferin' with my business; then I'll stop 'em hard."
"Has Bill Cook been down to the Mission?" asked Fagin.
"Yes, and I guess they've got him, too. His woman says he's converted, er whatever they calls it, and he told me this mornin' that he wasn't drinkin'. I ast him to have one, but he said he'd foller the water wagon the rest of his life. I give him the laugh, but he wouldn't stand fer it."
"This is pension day, isn't it?" asked Fagin.
"I think so," said Mike.
"Well, if Bill stays sober after he gets his money, then I'll think there's somethin' ter this Mission business," said Fagin.
"That kid of Moore's is makin' most of this trouble and Jewey says that Dave Beach is stuck on him. Dave always had good sense, but he don't show it now. He paid for the ambulance that Mrs. Morton used to take Floe to her house with, and that must 'a' cost three dollars anyhow."
"Does he come here much now, Mike?"
"Not much, and when he does come he acts sore all the time. The other mornin' about four o'clock he came in here and got a couple of drinks and he was so mad he was cryin'. When I ast him what was eatin' him he wanted to lick me. I tell you, things are changin' in Bucktown, Fagin, and I don't like it a little bit."
The women of Bucktown were talking the same way, and little groups of them could be seen here and there in earnest conversation about Mrs. Cook, Bill Cook, Floe, Jimmie, etc.
"I'll bet Bill'll be drunk when he gits his money," said Mrs. Kinney. "You git her mad and she'll swear like she always did. Where der yer suppose she got that hat she's wearin'? When I ast her she said the Lord give it to 'er, and she says she's goin' ter have a carpet and curtains. I wish Bill would git drunk and just teach her a good lesson. She's gittin' too smart. She'll quit speakin' to us next thing we know, and that Floe that Mrs. Morton took home with her, I'll bet she'll be a bad girl agin. If I don't miss my guess, they'll be sorry they ever saw Bucktown."
Even the children would stand and look at Bill when he passed by on the street. Morton had gone with him to his old employer and told him how he was saved, and he gave Bill back his old place in the shop. He worked ten hours each day and went to the Mission every night.
Jimmie was getting on well with is studies under Mrs. Price. She gave him an hour each morning and he worked hard to get his lessons. On Saturday morning he rushed into Morton's office very much excited. "What's the matter, Jimmie?" said Morton.
"Matter? Matter 'nough, I guess. What yer been steerin' me up against? I was jus' gittin' my lesson up at Price's and her man comes home. He's a travelin' man and gits home once a month. He stood lookin' at me and, pointin' his finger at me, says, says he, 'What's dis?' His woman says, says she, 'Dat's Jimmie Moore and I'm teachin' him ter read and write. He's one of der Sunday school boys at der Mission.' 'I don't want no such cattle in my house,' he said ter his woman. 'He's covered wid vermum (er somfin like dat) and'll steal yer blind when yer ain't lookin',' and said he wa'n't runnin' no mission, and 'f I didn't git he'd sling me out der winder."
"Well, what did you do, Jimmie?" asked Morton.
"Do? I ducks out, and ducks out fast is what I do. Did yer ever see him? He's one of them tall, skinny guys and he's got er high shiny hat dat makes him taller and skinnier. He'd go fer a lead pencil at der masquerade in Bucktown, if he had a rubber on his head. Den his overcoat is so big dat he's got a belly-band buttoned on behind it ter make it littler. Gee, he looked like er rat-tail in er quart cup. I wouldn't care so much, but I left my book dere, and I'm scart ter go after it."
"Did you say anything to him, Jimmie?" asked Morton.
"Not on yer life, I didn't have time; he came near beatin' me to der door as it was."
"Well, never mind, Jimmie. It may be all right. I will get your book for you and you will learn to read and write yet," said Morton kindly. "Romans 8:28 says that 'all things work together for good to them that love God.'"
While Jimmie's experience with Price was hard for one so sensitive, before the day ended he was very glad it had happened as it did.
As Mr. and Mrs. Price started for down-town that evening to do some shopping, Mrs. Price took Jimmie's book with her. When they reached Brady Street, where the Mission is located, she turned suddenly to Mr. Price and said, "I have that boy's book with me and I want to take it to him at the Mission. Please walk down with me; it is rather rough on Saturday night and I am timid alone." For what followed, hear Mr. Price's own words as he stood up to speak in the Mission at the end of the service.
"If any one had told me this morning that I would be in a place like this to-night, I would have considered that person insane. It was all a mistake on my part, but I thank God for the mistake. For years I have been a traveling man. To hold my trade and be a good fellow I have always treated my customers right. In this way I got into the habit of drinking. Never got drunk very often at first, but the habit kept growing until it has been the other way—never got sober very often. Ten days ago, in another city, fifteen of us boys met at the supper table in the hotel and one of them bet the drinks for the crowd with another one. I do not know what the bet was about, but after supper we all adjourned to the barroom to drink with the loser. Before we stopped we had all treated and every one was ready for anything. To make a long story short, we have all been drunk for ten days. I reached home this morning without money; I left my hotel bill unpaid. My firm does not know where I am. When I went into the house my wife had company, and I was mad in a minute. I tried to kick a boy out of doors that she was teaching to read. I have not spoken a pleasant word all day. To-night my wife asked me to come to this place with her, as she had a book she wanted to deliver to that boy. He was nowhere to be seen, so I sat down with her in the back part of the building to wait for him. Two large women came in and we moved in against the wall to make room for them. I became very nervous and wanted to get out, but I couldn't get past those women. I was angry enough at my wife to choke her, but she sat there and sung those old songs and never once looked at me. When my eye caught sight of the motto there, 'How long since you wrote Mother?' I almost fell from my chair. Listen, fellows; I had as good a mother as God ever gave a boy. I had promised her many times that I would not take another drink, but never could keep my word. One day when I was in a barroom, I received a telegram from my wife which read, 'Come at once. Mother is dead.' When I reached home they told me that the last conscious words were a prayer for her boy. I had promised her to meet her in Heaven, but I've gone lower and lower since her death. I thank God for that boy; I thank God for those words on the wall and for Mr. Morton's invitation to come to Mother's God. Since I came to this altar, Jesus has saved me and I mean to live for Him and meet Mother over there."
As he sat down there was scarcely a dry eye in the house. Jimmie went up to him and put his hand on his arm and said, "I was sore at yer ter-day, but I love yer now, Mr. Price." Price took the boy in his arms and hugged him. "I love you, my boy, and will always be your friend. You will always find my home open to you."