Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 220 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ae ee SS a ee a ee ——— is wrong but you, of course, Everybody always is. But I’ve a notion that if Mr, Wilson knew all that the men think of you, he might change bis opinion. That’s all; but l’m no more a viper than you are.” A look of astonishment came upon the fore- man’s face at this unlooked-for plain speaking. With an angry oath be stepped forward. ‘*There, there, Martin!” cried Mr. Wilson, authoritatively. ‘* That will do. the quarrel rest there, for | do not know but that the boy bas some reason in what he says.”’ Mr, Martin stepped back considerably abashed by tiis decisive command. ‘* Now, Mr. Wilson, if you will pay me off I will leave,” said Frank quietly. **No, no, there’s no oceasion for that, my boy,” replied Mr. Wilson, in a more kindly tone. ‘‘ I tancy you are not so much in fault. You can go back to your work.” * Thank you,” rejoined Frank, ‘‘ but not in a shop where that man is foreman. You can’t spare him, | suppose; but you can spare me. So you will please pay me off, sir.” In five minutes more Frank stepped into the street, a boy without an occupation. CHAPTER II. A LITTLE DOMESTIC DIFFICULTY. THE Tanner fimily did not live on Fifth Av- enue. They were not quite so high-toned as that. Itis true their mansion was an extensive one, but it was a little too extensive for them, so they kindly let about a hundred other fam- ilies nosery portions of it. It was, in fact, a tenement house, in which they thought them- selves rich to occupy two rooms, and these not very spacious, nor very luxuriously furnished. A very plain table, three or four hard-backed chairs, a dilapidated cooking stove, and a_ be:z- garly array of cracked dishes and rusty pans, formed nearly the whole of the Tanner house- hold treasures. There were some efforts at adornment. A row of pictures, cut from the weekly papers, were tacked to the walls, but these ran more to horse races and pugilistic en- counters than to high art. In the window were a few sickly flowers, growing in broken jars. And on a shelf im one corner were a half-dozen books. So it was evident that there were some in that household with a taste for art, nature, and literature. The inmates of the room comprised Tom Tan- ner, whom we have already seen, and his father and mother, together with a bony rat-terrier dog, and a sleepy old cat. Mr. Tanner, senior, was not an attractive specimen of humanity. He had evidently been too fond of the extract of old rye, and it had left a ripe blossom on his aristocratic nose. He must have been quarrelsome, too, when in his cups, for one of his eyes was now in deep ne and there was an ugly cut on his un- er lip. Mrs. Tanner was a little, mild-faced, quiet body, with a look as if her life had been a h rd one. Her whole comfort in life had been in her son Frank. As for Tom he was only half brother to Frank, for Mr. Tanner had been married twice, and the older boy had quite a different mother from this mild little woman. ‘It’s too, confounded ridik’lous,” the father was saying, as he rocked himself uneasily upon one of the chairs. ‘‘ ve a mind to wallop that boy Frank. Blame his ugly pictur’, he’s allers a-makin’ trouble. And me a-workin’ my fingers’ ends off to keep the ongrateful little willian in vittles and clothes,” _It was one of the romances of Mr, Tanner’s life that he was a very industrious member of the working classes. But the truth was he wrestled with the whisky bottle more than with the blacksmith’s hammer and tongs, “*T couldn’t help it,” broke in Tom, who was sprawling at full length on the floor. ‘“ He just always gits me discharged. I wa n’t a-goin’ to kick up no row with old Martin; but Frank, he had to put in his jaw, and the first thing you , know, dad, there was the skippiest old mill. Martin salted me on the lip, and then he guVv me a persuader over the eye. But Frank, he never gits burt. He’s jist death at stirrin’ up fights, and warpin’ me into them. But he looks out fur his pretty face, you bet.” ‘Yes, the ongrateful young hound!” and Mr. Tanner wiped his eyes as if affected to tears. “Pve the blamedest notion to wallop him. I s’pose he'll jist walk back to bis work like a cur, arter gecting my poor boy Tom into trouble. He never had no sperit.” ‘‘He has spirit enough,” broke in Mrs. Tanner, who had been fuming during this talk. ‘* But he knows we have to live, and poor folks have a great deal to put up with,” We will let | ‘Shut up, woman!” snarled her husband. ‘*He ain’t got no sperit, I say. Look at my boy Tom, here. Nobody don’t crow over him.” “Nor his father either,” was the little woman’s stinging retort. ‘‘ You are both of you very ready for an excuse to get out of work.” It was not often that she was stung to a sharp answer. Mr. Tanner looked at her in amaze- ment. Tom, who had been annoying the cat, now got up, and whistling for the dog, left the room. He did not like domestic scenes, par- ticularly where his industry was called in question, Mr. Tanner stopped rocking his chair, and cast a maudlin look toward his wife. ‘‘ Yer allers at it,’ he growled. ‘“ Yer allers a-diggin’ at me and Tom. ‘Stead of symper thizin’ with me, arter I tumbled off the curb stone last night and bunged my face all up, it’s jist nothin’ but growl, giowl, growl. I tell you what, wife, ’m about tired on ’t.” 47 you had been at your work, Jacob Tanner,” she retorted, ‘‘ you would not have been on those slippery curbstones. I am afraid vou fell against some other drunken loafer’s fist.” ‘That’s an insiniwation, woman,” hiccuped Jacob. ‘‘ That’s a doosed insiniwation. You've been a-heapin’ it on me, and a-pilin’ it on me, and insiniwatin’ ag’in’ me, and blame me if I’m a-goin’ to stand it any longer, It’s mighty lit- tle comfort an honest workin’ man gits outer sich afamily as ve got. You’ve got old Sam in you, Mrs. Tanner, and it’s ’bout time he was took out.” He rose unsteadily to his feet, with a moist look in his eye. His wife retreated into a cor- ner, and held up her arms feebly in defense. She knew what was meant when he was so polite as to call her Mrs. Tanner, Ifa tear had fallen from his water been good for a knock-down at least. ‘*Tt’s "bout time to settle who’s the boss of this yere shanty,” he continued. “Oh, don’t, Jacob!” she pleaded. ‘ Don’t strike me! I didn’t mean to aggravate you, dear, Oh, now don’t!” ‘* Ther’s got to be an example, Mrs. Tanner. It hurts me wuss nor it does you, but Scripture says as we’ve got to keep peace in the house- hold, and it says moreover as a grumblin’ wo- man is wuss nor a serpent’s tooth. So you see il’s my Scripture duty to wallop you, Mrs, Tan- ner.” **Oh don’t! Oh!” and the poor woman threw her apron over her face, and cowered down be- fore that portentous fist. Her shrill ery met ears outside. The door sharply opened, and a brisk foctstep entered the room. In an jnstant there was an alert movement, and a tall young form pushed itself between husband and wife. ‘You must not, and you shall not, touch her!” came an earnest cry. ‘‘ Hit me, father. Pound me as much as you will. But keep your hands off of mother.” It was Frank Tanner who had made his ap- pearance so opportunely. He stood erect be- fore his angry parent, looking at him not de- fiantly, but firmly. ‘*So it’s you, you young scorpion!” snarled the tipsy father. ‘It’s you that’s come here to alae atween busband and wife! Ye ain’t satersfied to git poor Tom licked and set adrift, but you must come here a-mixin’ in, Blame me if lL ain’t a mind to whale yer rascally hide.” “Go ahead, father. 1 can stand it. But don’t lay your hands on mother.” With a furious oath the angry man raised his heavy fist, and drew it back as if with intent to dash it into the noble young face before him. But to strike herself and to strike her son were two different things with Mrs. Tanner. All the motherly instinct resein her. With a scream she threw herself on her husband’s arm, she dashed her weak hand into his face, she pushed him violently back, he yielding like a reed in his amazement at this assault. She drove him before her until she had pushed him into his seat, and then stood with panting lips and flam- ing eyes before him. ‘* You cowardly brute!” she e jaculated, with a passion unusual with her. ‘‘Dare to touch him on your peril! You can get yourself filled with whisky, and can come here to abuse wo: men and children, and that’s all you’re good for. You have ill treated that poor child ever since he was a baby, but you shall never lay hands on him again in my presence,” The amazed Mr. Tanner looked up with something of the expression of a whipped cur. Here was an explosion such as he had never dreamed of. He had not fancied there could eye she would have | movement. Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Scapegrace. 3 + . —e + a — oe ee be so much vim in the little woman. His eyes furtively sought her indignant face, and then stole a glance at his son, who stood motionless as a statue, though his lips trembled with feel- ing. Jacob Tanner was thoroughly cowed, Like all such dorestic tyrants he was a coward at heart, and there was a whimpering sound in his voice as he again began to speak. *“I dunno what I’ve done, to kick up sich a row,” he complained. ‘‘Jist vou let me alone and Pll let you alone, and I've told you that of’n and of’n, wife. But ther’ never was no use talkin’ sense to a woman,” Mrs. Tanner looked at him for a moment with supreme contempt. Then with a sudden change of expression, and a gush of tears to her eyes, she turned to her son, and clasped him in her arms, raining kisses on his face. ‘* Never mind him, Frank, He’s been drink- ing. He wouldn’t behave so if he was sober,” she appealed, with a natural instinct to excuse her husband, ‘Tell me all about it, my dear boy. Have you quit your work, like Tom?” “‘T could not belp it, mother, I could not work under that Mr. Martin, after what hap- pened. Sit down and I will tell you all about it. And he repeated the story which the reader already knows, while his father, with his head resting upon the table, rocked himself back- ward and forward, too much absorbed in his own domestic woes to attend to the boy’s narra- tive. ‘Has Tom been home, mother?’ “Yes. He has gone out, with the dog.” ‘* He’s gone to look fur work,” grumbled the father. ‘' Tom ain’t the boy to lay on his oars, He’s jist b’ilin’ over with industry, is that boy, He ain’t the idle chap as his ongrateful tro- ther is, a-gittin’ them both out of work, and then layin’ adrift and ’specting work to float to him. A keen flash shot into Frank’s eyes, But he restrained himself, and the tone was mild and respectful in which he spoke to his mother, **T must go out again now, mother. I cannot afford to be idle, you know; as long as—” He bit bis lip and became silent, “IT must get work,” he resumed. ‘‘ Maybe I can get some for Tom, too. But I don’t know, Work isn’t very plenty just now.” Kissing his mother affectionately he took his hat and walked out, without a glance at bis maudlin father. There was a group of boys in the narrow street into which Frank emerged. Tom was in their midst and was occupied In holding back his dog, which was eagerly trying to get loose, ‘Hello, there’s Frank!” cried one of the boys. ‘Come here, Frank. There’s the best fun going. Bill Bounce has caught a rat in bis trap, and we’re going to let it out and set Gip on it. Oh! won’t he shake it! Hurry, Frank, afore the fun’s over.” Frank felt something of a boy’s natural im- pulse to see a dog shake a rat, but he had more important business just then, and declined the invitation. ‘*T haven’t time,” he answered. “Oh, nonsense! It will only take a minute.” ‘‘ Let bim go, little stuck-up,” sneered Tom. ‘* He’s too goody to keer bout dogs and rats. We don’t want no Sunday-school chaps here.” ‘Very well, Tom,” answered Frank, quietly. ‘‘T do not think I am any the worse for going to Sunday-school, and you might be the better for it. But I guess we won’t talk about that now.” Frank walked on, whistling cheerfully, per- hans to drown an answer. But Tom contented himself with a shrug of the shoulders and a meaning gesture toward his brother that set some of the boys laughing. ‘‘ etch along your rat now,” he cried, ** Gip’s gittin’ heavy to hold. Come ahead, Bill. Git out of the way there, some of you boys, and give Mr. Ratachance. Livelynow. This way, Bill.” The ragged little urchin who held the trap took it tothe middle of the street and cautiously opened its door, Gip’s eyes being fixed on the The frightened rat drew back and hesitated about taking the liberty offered him. But a shake of the wire trap drove him out, and at the same instant Tom released the dog. There was the flash of a small blac body across the street, the flash of a larger black body in its wake, a bark, a squeal, and the loud elap- ping of the boys’ hands. It was all over with the rat. Giphad it in his sharp teeth and was shaking it violently, whil» the boys laughed and shouted as if this was the best bit of fun in the world. And while the idle brother was thus employed, | (SOMMICE| OO) ss) (E@)