Shorty McCabe on the Job Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER

  "Shorty," says Sadie, hangin' up the 'phone and turnin' to me excited,"what do you think? Young Hollister is back in town!"

  "So are lots of other folks," says I, "and more comin' every day."

  "But you know he promised to stay away," she goes on, "and his motherwill feel dreadfully about it when she hears."

  "I know," says I. "And a livelier widow never hailed from Peachtreestreet, Atlanta; which is sayin' a lot. Who sends in this bulletin aboutSonny?"

  "Purdy-Pell," says Sadie, "and he doesn't know what to do."

  "Never does," says I.

  Sadie flickers a grin. "It seems Robin came two days ago, and has hardlybeen seen about the house since. Besides, Purdy-Pell could do nothingwith him when he was here before, you remember."

  "Awful state of things, ain't it?" says I. "The youngster's all ofnineteen, ain't he?"

  "He's nearly twenty-one," says Sadie. "And Mrs. Hollister's such adear!"

  "All of which leads up to what?" says I, tearin' my eyes from thesportin' page reluctant.

  "Why," says Sadie, cuddlin' up on the chair arm, "Purdy-Pell suggeststhat, as Robin appeared to take such a fancy to you, perhaps youwouldn't mind----"

  "Say," I breaks in, "he's a perfectly punk suggester! I'd mind a lot!"

  Course that opened the debate, and while I begins by statin' flat-footedthat Robin could come or go for all I cared, it ends in the usualcompromise. I agrees to take the eight-forty-five into town and skirmishfor Sonny. He'd be almost sure to show up at Purdy-Pell's to-night, Sadiesays, and if I was on hand I might induce him to quit wreckin' the cityand be good.

  "Shouldn't I wear a nurse's cap and apron?" I remarks as I grabs my hat.

  For, honest, so far as I've ever seen, this young Hollister was a nice,quiet, peaceable chap, with all the earmarks of a perfect gent. He'dbeen brought up from the South and put into Purdy-Pell's offices, andhe'd made a fair stab at holdin' down his job. But of course, bein'turned loose in New York for the first time, I expect he went out nowand then to see what was goin' on under the white lights.

  From some youngsters that might have called for such panicky protests asMother and Mrs. Purdy-Pell put up; but young Robin had a good head onhim, and didn't act like he meant to develop into a rounder. Course Ididn't hear the details; but all of a sudden something happened thatcaused a grand howl. I know Sadie was consulted, then Mrs. Hollister wassent for, and it ended by Robin marchin' into the studio one mornin' tosay good-by. He explains that he's bein' shipped home. They'd got a jobfor him with an uncle out in the country somewhere. That must have beena year or so ago, and now it looked like he'd slipped his halter and hadheaded back for Broadway.

  I finds Purdy-Pell peeved and sarcastic. "To be sure," he says, "I feelhonored that the young man should make my house his headquarterswhenever his fancy leads him to indulge his sportive instincts. Youthmust be served, you know. But Mrs. Hollister has such a charminglyunreasonable way of holding me responsible for her son's conduct! Andsince she happens just now to be our guest--well, you get the idea,McCabe."

  "What do you think he's up to?" says I.

  Purdy-Pell shrugs his shoulders. "If he were the average youth, onemight guess," says he; "but Robin Hollister is different. His mother isa Pitt Medway, one of the Georgia Medways."

  "You don't say!" says I. I expect I ought to know just how a GeorgiaMedway differs from a New Jersey Medway, or the Connecticut brand; but,sad to say, I don't. Purdy-Pell, though, havin' been raised in theSouth himself, seems to think that everyone ought to know the traits ofall the leadin' fam'lies between the Potomac and the Chattahoochee.

  "Last time, you know," goes on Purdy-Pell, "it was a Miss Maggie Toots,a restaurant cashier, and a perfectly impossible person. We broke thatup, though."

  "Ye-e-es?" says I.

  "Robin's mother seemed to think then," says he, "that it was largely myfault. I suppose she'll feel the same about whatever mischief he's innow. If I could only find the young scamp! But really I haven't time.I'm an hour late at the Boomer Days' as it is."

  "Then toddle along," says I. "If I'm unanimously elected to do thiskid-reformin' act, I expect I might as well get busy."

  So as soon as the butler's through loadin' Purdy-Pell into the limousineI cross-examines Jarvis about young Mr. Hollister's motions. Yes, he'dshown up at the house both nights. It might have been late, perhapsquite late. Then this afternoon he'd 'phoned to have his evenin' clothessent uptown by messenger. No, he couldn't remember the number, or thename of the hotel.

  "Ah, come, Jarvis!" says I. "We know you're strong for the young man,and all that. But this is for the best. Dig it up now! You must have putthe number down at the time. Where's the 'phone pad?"

  He produces it, blank. "You see, Sir," says he, "I tore off the leaf andgave it to the messenger."

  "But you're a heavy writer, ain't you?" says I. "Find me a readin'glass."

  And, sure enough, by holdin' the pad under the big electrolier in thelib'ry, we could trace out the address.

  "Huh!" says I. "The Maison Maxixe, one of them new trot palaces! Ring upa taxi, Jarvis."

  Didn't happen to be up around there yourself that night, did you? If youhad, you couldn't missed seein' him,--the old guy with the Dixie lid andthe prophet's beard, and the snake-killer staff in his fist,--for withthat gold and green entrance as a background, and in all that glare ofelectric lights, he was some prominent.

  Sort of a cross between Father Time and Santa Claus, he looks like, withhis bumper crop of white alfalfa, his rosy cheeks, and his husky build.Also he's attired in a wide-brimmed black felt hat, considerable dusty,and a long black coat with a rip in the shoulder seam. I heard a coupleof squabs just ahead of me giggle, and one of 'em gasps:

  "Heavings, Lulu! Will you lamp the movie grandpop! I wonder if themlambrequins are real?"

  She says it loud enough to be heard around on Broadway, and I looks tosee how the old boy takes it; but he keeps right on beamin' mild andsort of curious at the crowds pushin' in. It was them calm, gentle oldblue eyes of his, gazin' steady, like he was lookin' for someone, thatcaught me. First thing, I knew he was smilin' folksy straight at me, andliftin' one hand hesitatin', as if he wanted to give me the hail.

  "Well, old scout?" says I, haltin' on the first step.

  "Excuse me, Neighbor," says he, drawlin' it out deep and soft, "but beyo' goin' in thayah?"

  "I don't say it boastin'," says I, "but that was the intention."

  "We-e-e-ell," he drawls, half chucklin', half sing-songy, "I wisht Icould get you to kind of look around for a young fellah in thayah,--sortof a well favored, upstandin' young man, straight as a cornstalk, andwith his front haiah a little wavy. Would you?"

  "I might find fifty that would answer to that description," says I.

  "No, Suh, I reckon not," says he, waggin' his noble old head. "Not fiftylike him, nor one! He'll have his chin up, Suh, and there'll be atwinkle in his brown eyes you can't mistake."

  "Maybe so," says I. "I'll scout around a bit. And if I find him, whatthen?"

  "Jes' give him the word, Neighbor," says he, "that Uncle Noah's awaitin' outside, wantin' to see him a minute when he gets through.He'll understand, Robin will."

  "Eh?" says I. "Robin who?"

  "Young Mistuh Hollister I should say, Suh," says he.

  "Well, well!" says I, gawpin' at him. "You lookin' for Robin Hollistertoo? Why, so am I!"

  "Then we ought to find him between us, hadn't we?" says he, smilin'friendly. "Lott's my name, Suh."

  "Wha-a-at!" says I, grinnin' broad as the combination strikes me. "NotUncle Noah Lott?"

  "It's a powerful misleadin' name, I got to admit," says he, returnin'the grin; "but I reckon my folks didn't figure jes' how it was goin' tosound when they tacked the Noah onto me, or else they didn't allow formy growin' up so simple. But I've had it so long I'm used to it, and sois most everyone else down in my part of Jawgy."

  "Ah!" says
I. "Then you're from Georgia, eh? Down where they sent Robin,I expect?"

  "That's right," says he. "I'm from Goober."

  "Goober!" I echoes. "Say, that's a choice one too! No wonder Robincouldn't stand it! Sent you up to fetch him back, did they?"

  "No, Suh," says he. "Mistuh Phil Hollister didn't send me at all. I jes'come, Suh, and I can't say if I'm goin' to carry him back or no. Yousee it's like this: Robin, he's a good boy. We set a heap by him, we do.And Robin was doin' well, keepin' the bale books, lookin' after theweighin', and takin' general charge around the cotton gin. Always had agood word for me in the mornin' when I hands over the keys, me bein'night watchman, Suh. 'Well, Uncle Noah,' it would be, 'didn't letanybody steal presses, did you?' 'No, Mistuh Robin,' I'd say, 'didn'tlose nary press last night, and only part of the smokestack.' We wasthat way, me and Robin. And when Mistuh Phil and his folks started offto visit their married daughter, up in Richmond, he says to me, 'UncleNoah, I expect you to look after Robin while I'm gone, and see that hedon't git into no trouble.' Them was his very words, Suh."

  "And Robin's kept you busy, eh?" says I.

  "Well, he's a good boy, Robin is," insists Uncle Noah. "I reckon it tookhim sort of sudden, this wantin' to leave Goober. Just had to come toNew York, it seems like. I dunno what for, and I ain't askin'; only Ipromised his Uncle Phil I'd see he didn't git into no trouble,and--well, I'm a waitin' around, you see, waitin' around."

  "How'd you come to locate him, Uncle?" says I.

  "We-e-ell," says he, "I reckon I shouldn't a done it nohow, but he leftthe envelope to her letter on his desk,--a Miss Toots it comefrom,--and the address was on the back. It was directly afterwards thatRobin quits Goober so sudden."

  "Ah-ha!" says I. "Maggie Toots again, eh?"

  Looked like the myst'ry was solved too, and while I wa'n't plannin' torestrict any interstate romance, or throw the switch on love's youngdream, I thought as long as I'd gone this far I might as well take alook.

  "Maybe he'll be too busy to receive any home delegation just now," saysI; "but if you want to stick around while I do a little scoutin' inside,Uncle, I'll be out after a bit."

  "I'll be a waitin'," says Uncle Noah, smilin' patient, and I leaves himbacked up against the front of the buildin' with his hands crossedpeaceful on the top of his home-made walkin' stick.

  It's some giddy push I gets into after I've put up my dollar for aballroom ticket and crowded in where a twenty-piece orchestra was busywith the toe-throbby stuff. And there's such a mob on the floor andalong the side lines that pickin' out one particular young gent seemslike a hopeless job.

  I drifts around, though, elbowin' in and out, gettin' glared at by fatold dames, and bein' bumped by tangoin' couples, until I finds a spot ina corner where I could hang up and have a fair view. About then someoneblows a whistle, and out on the platform in front of the orchestraappears a tall, bullet-headed, pimple-faced young gent, wearin' whitespats with his frock-coat costume, and leadin' by the hand a zippy younglady who's attired mostly in black net and a pair of gauze wings growin'out between her shoulder blades. It's announced that they will do afancy hesitation.

  Take it from me, I never saw it danced like that before! It was more'n adance: it was an acrobatic act, an assault with intent to maim, andother things we won't talk about. The careless way that young sporttossed around this party with the gauze wings was enough to make youwonder what was happenin' to her wishbone. First he'd swing her roundwith her head bent back until her barrette almost scraped the floor;then he'd yank her up, toss her in the air, and let her trickle gracefuldown his shirt front, like he was a human stair rail. Next, as the musichit the high spots, they'd go to a close clinch, and whirl and dip andpivot until she breaks loose, takes a flyin' leap, and lands shoulderhigh in his hands, while he walks around with her like she was somethinghe was bringin' in on a tray.

  The hesitation, eh? Say, that's what Mrs. McCabe has been at me to takelessons in. I can see myself, with Sadie tippin' the scales at onehundred and sixty-eight! But when I go home to-night I'll agree to tryit if she's willin' to have her spine removed first.

  The young lady in black, though, don't seem to mind. She bows smilin' atthe finish, and then trips off with Pimple Face, lookin' whole andhappy. I was watchin' 'em as they made their way out towards the front.Seemed to be gen'ral fav'rites with the crowd, for they were swappin'hails right and left, and she was makin' dates for the next ground andlofty number, I expect; when all of a sudden they're stopped by someone,there's a brief but breezy little argument, and I hears a soft thud thatlistens like a short arm jab bein' nestled up against a jawbone. Andthere's Pimple Face doin' a back flip that ain't in his repertoire atall.

  Course that spilled the beans. There was squeals, and shrieks, and agen'ral mixup; some tryin' to get closer, others beatin' it to get away,and all the makin's of a young riot. But the management at the MaisonMaxixe don't stand for any rough stuff. In less than a minute a bunch ofhouse detectives was on the spot, the young hesitationer was whiskedinto a cloakroom, and the other gent was bein' shot towards the freshair.

  Just a glimpse that I caught of his flushed face as it was bein' tuckedunder a bouncer's arm set me in action. I made a break for a side exit;but there's such a jam everywhere that it's two or three minutes beforeI can get around to the front.

  And there's young Hollister, with an end of his dress collar drapedjaunty over his right ear, tryin' to kick the belt buckle off atwo-hundred-pound cop who's holdin' him at arm's length with one handand rappin' his nightstick for help with the other; while Uncle Noahstands one side, starin' some disturbed at the spectacle. I knew thatwas no time to butt in!

  In that section of the White Light district too you can call up plentyof help by a few taps from the locust. Cops came on the jump from twoadjoinin' posts,--big husky Broadway cops,--and they swoops down onyoung Robin like a bunch of Rockefeller deacons on a Ferrer schoolgraduate who rises in prayer meetin' to ask the latest news from PaintCreek.

  "What you got, Jim?" puffs one.

  "Young hick that got messy in the tango joint," says Jim.

  "Ah, fan him a few!" remarks the other. "Hold him still now while I----"

  At which Uncle Noah pushes in and holds up a protestin' hand. "Now seeheah, Mistuh Constable," says he, "I wouldn't go for to do anything likethat!"

  "Wha-a-at?" snarls the copper. "Say, you old billy-goat, beat it!" Andhe proceeds to clip young Mr. Hollister a glancin' blow on the side ofthe bead. His next aim was better; but this time the nightstick didn'tconnect.

  There's been let loose a weird, high-pitched howl, which I didn'trecognize at the time as the old Rebel yell, but know now that it was.Uncle Noah had gone into action. That walkin' stick of his was asecond-growth hickory club as thick as your wrist at the big end. Heswung it quick and accurate, and if that cop ain't nursin' a brokenforearm to-day he's lucky. I expect his dome was solid iv'ry,--most ofthem sluggers have that kind,--and in this case he needed it; for, oncehe gets goin', Uncle Noah makes a thorough job of it. He lands his nextswipe square on the copper's head and tumbles him to the sidewalk like abag of meal. The other two was at him with their clubs by this time,swingin' on him vicious; but somehow they couldn't get in anything butbody blows that echoed on Uncle Noah's ribs like thumpin' a barrel. Musthave been a tough old boy; for that never fazed him. And the crowd, thatwas a block deep by this time, seemed to be right with him.

  "Slug the clubbers!" they yelled. "Knock their blocks off! Go to it, oldman!"

  He didn't need that to encourage him; for he wades in lively, raps firstone head and then the other, until he had 'em all three on the pavement.That set the crowd wild.

  "Now sneak while the sneakin's good, old top!" shouts one.

  "Jump a cab!" sings out another.

  Say, the idea that either of 'em might get out of this muss withoutgoin' to the station house hadn't occurred to me before. But here was ataxi, jam up against the curb not a dozen feet off, with the chauffeurswingin' his cap enthusiastic.r />
  "Quick, Uncle!" says I, gettin' him by the arm. "It's your one chance.You too, Robin. But show some speed about it."

  At that, if it hadn't been for half a dozen chaps in the front row ofthe crowd that helped me shove 'em in, and the others that blocked offthe groggy coppers who were wabblin' to their feet, we couldn't havepulled it off. But we piled 'em in, I gave the cabby the Purdy-Pells'street number, and away they was whirled. And you can bet I didn'tlinger in front of the Maison Maxixe long after that.

  Twenty minutes later we had a little reunion in the Purdy-Pell lib'ry.Robin was holdin' some cracked ice to a lump on his forehead, and UncleNoah was sittin' uncomf'table on the edge of a big leather chair.

  "How cheery!" says I. "But take it from me, Uncle, you're sometwo-fisted scrapper! I didn't think it was in you."

  "We-e-ell," he drawls out, still breathin' a bit hard, but gettin' backhis gentle smile, "I didn't want to do no fursin' with them constables;but you know Mistuh Phil he told me to see that Robin didn't git into notrouble, and--and--we-e-ell, I didn't care for their motions none atall, I didn't. So I jes' had to tap 'em a little."

  "Now see hea-uh, Mistuh Vonstable," says he, "I wouldn'tgo for to do anything like that."]

  "Tappin' is good!" says I. "And how about you, Robin? How do you come tobe mixin' it up so conspicuous?"

  "I'm sorry," says he. "I suppose I made an awful ass of myself. But evenif she is a public dancer, that snipe shouldn't have insulted her. Ofcourse I'd found out long before that Miss Toots was no longer anythingto me; but----"

  "Then that was the famous Maggie, was it?" I breaks in. "The one thatlured you up from Dixie?"

  "Not exactly a lure," says he. "She didn't think I'd be chump enough tocome. But that's all off now."

  "I ain't curious," says I, "but the fam'ly has sort of delegated me tokeep track of your moves. What's next, if you know?"

  Robin shrugs his shoulders sort of listless. "I don't know," says he.Then he turns to Uncle Noah. "Uncle," says he, "how will thosescuppernongs be about now on the big arbor in front of Uncle Phil's?"

  "Bless you, Mistuh Robin," says old Noah, "they'll be dead ripe by now,and there's jes' doodlins of 'em. Miss Peggy Culpepper, she'll be mightylonesome, a pickin' of 'em all by herself."

  "Humph!" says Robin, tintin' up. "Think so, do you?"

  "I don't have to think, Mistuh Robin," says Uncle Noah. "Miss Peggy toldme that herself the mornin' I come away."

  Young Mr. Hollister gazes earnest into them gentle old blue eyes for asecond, then he takes a turn or two up and down the lib'ry, and fin'llyclaps Uncle Noah on the shoulder. "I've been waiting all summer for ataste of those grapes," says he. "Come, we can just catch the midnight.I've had enough of Broadway to last me for a long time."

  And my partin' glimpse of 'em was at eleven-fifty-six, when they pushedthrough the gate bound for Goober, Georgia.

  "After all," thinks I, "it may not be so bad as it sounds."