by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER III
THE GUMMIDGES GET A BREAK
This news about how the Gummidges had come back is 'phoned in by Veehere the other afternoon. She's some excited over it, as she always iswhen she sees another chance of extendin' the helpin' hand. I'll admit Iwasn't quite so thrilled. You see, I'd been through all that with theGummidges two or three times before and the novelty had sort of wornoff. Besides, that last rescue act we'd pulled had been no commoncharity hand-out. It had been big stuff, nothing less than passing thehat among our friends and raising enough to send the whole lot of 'em sofar West that the prospects of their ever gettin' back to New York wasmighty slim. Maybe that was one reason I'd been so enthusiastic overputtin' the job through. Not more'n eighteen months ago that had been,and here they all were back in our midst once more.
"At the same old address," adds Vee, "so you can guess what that means,Torchy."
"Uh-huh!" says I. "The Patricia apartments has a perfectly punk janitoragain and we're due to listen to another long tale of woe."
"Oh, well," says Vee, "it will be interesting to see if Mrs. Gummidgeis still bearing up cheerful and singing that 'When the Clouds AreDarkest' song of hers. Of course, I am coming right in as soon as I canpack a basket. They're sure to be hungry, so I'm going to put in a wholeroasted chicken, and some jars of that strawberry jam Rowena likes somuch, and heaps of bread and butter sandwiches. Probably they'll need afew warm clothes, too, so I hope you don't mind, Torchy, if I tuck in acouple of those khaki shirts of yours, and a few pairs of socks,and----"
"Say," I breaks in, "don't get too reckless with my wardrobe. I ain'tgot enough to fit out the whole Gummidge family, you know. Save me adress tie and a change of pajamas if you can."
"Silly!" says she. "And listen: I will call for you about 5 o'clock andwe'll go up to see them together."
"Very well," says I. "I'll try to hold myself back until then."
At that, I expect I was some curious to find out just how the Gummidgeshad managed it. Must have been Ma Gummidge who found a way. Hen.Gummidge never would, all by himself. About as helpless an oldStick-in-the-Mud, he was, as I'd, ever helped pry out of the muck. And achronic crape hanger. If things were bad, he was sure they were going tobe worse.
"I never have no luck," was his constant whine. It was his motto, asyou might say, his Fourteen Points of Fate.
I never could make out whether he got that way on account of his face,or if his face had lengthened out as his disposition grew gloomy. It wasa long face, almost as long and sad as a cow's. Much too long for hisbody and legs as he was only medium height up as far as the chin. Kindof a stoop shouldered, hollow chested, thin shanked party, too.Somewhere in the fifties, I should judge, but he might have been sixtyby his looks and the weary way he dragged around.
When I first knew him he was assistant engineer in the Corrugatedbuildin' and I used to see him risin' solemn out of the sidewalk on theash elevator, comin' up from the basement like some sad, flour-sprinkledghost. And then before he'd roll off the ash cans he'd lean his elbowson the safety bar and stare mournful up and down Broadway for a spell,just stallin' around. Course, I got to kiddin' him, askin' what he foundso comic in the boiler-room and why he didn't let me in on the joke.
"Huh!" he'd grunt. "If there's any joke down there, young feller, I'mit. I wonder how much grinnin' you'd do if you had to slave ten hours aday in a hole like that. I ought to be up sittin' on the right side ofan engine cab, fast freight, and drawin' my three hundred a month withtime and a half overtime. That's what I set out to be when I started aswiper. Got to be fireman once, but on the second run we hit a weak railand went into the ditch. Three busted ribs and my hospital expenses wasall I pulled out of that with; and when I tried to get damages they putmy name on the blacklist, which finished my railroadin' career for good.Maybe it was just as well. Likely I'd got mashed fair in the next wreck.That's me. Why say, if it was rainin' soup I'd be caught out with afork."
Yes, he was some consistent gloom hound, Henry Gummidge. Let him tell itand what Job went through was a mere head-cold compared to his trialsand tribulations. And the worst was yet to come. He knew it because heoften dreamed of seeing a bright yellow dog walkin' on his hind legsproud and wearin' a shiny collar. And then the dog would change into abow-legged policeman swingin' a night-stick threatenin'. All of which abarber friend of Henry's told him meant trouble in the pot and that hemust beware of a false friend who came across the water. The barber gotit straight from a dream book, and there must be something in it, forhadn't Henry been done out of $3 by a smooth talkin' guy from StatenIsland?
Well, sure enough, things did happen to Gummidge. He had a case ofshingles. Then he dropped the silver watch he'd carried for fifteenyears and before he knew it had stepped square on it with the ironplated heel of his work boots, squashin' the crystal into the works.And six weeks later he'd carelessly rested a red hot clinker rake onhis right foot and had seared off a couple of toes. But the climax camewhen he managed to bug the safety catch on the foolproof ash elevatorand took a 20-foot drop with about a ton of loaded ash cans. He only hada leg broken, at that, but it was three or four months before he camelimpin' out of the hospital to find that the buildin' agent didn't careto have him on the payroll any more.
Somehow Henry got his case before Mr. Robert, and that's how I was sentscoutin' out to see if all this about a sufferin' fam'ly was a fairytale or not. Well, it was and it wasn't. There was a Mrs. Gummidge, andRowena, and Horatio, just as he'd described. And they was livin' in aback flat on a punk block over near the North river. Their four darkrooms was about as bare of furniture as they could be. I expect youmight have loaded the lot on a push cart. And the rations must have beenmore or less skimpy for some time.
But you couldn't exactly say that Ma Gummidge was sufferin'. No. She'dcollected a couple of fam'ly washes from over Seventh avenue way and waswadin' into 'em cheerful. Also she was singin' "When the Clouds AreDarkest," rubbin' out an accompaniment on the wash board and splashin'the suds around reckless, her big red face shinin' through the steamlike the sun breakin' through a mornin' fog.
Some sizable old girl, Ma Gummidge; one of these bulgy, billowy femaleswith two chins and a lot of brownish hair. And when she wipes her handsand arms and camps down in a chair she seems to fill all one side of theroom. Even her eyes are big and bulgy. But they're good-natured eyes. Ohmy, yes. Just beamin' with friendliness and fun.
"Yes, Henry's had kind of a hard time," she admits, "but I tell him hegot off lucky. Might have been hurt a lot worse. And he does feeldownhearted about losin' his job. But likely he'll get another onebetter'n that. And we're gettin' along, after a fashion. Course, we'rebehind on the rent, and we miss a meal now and then; but most folks eattoo much anyway, and things are bound to come out all right in the end.There's Rowena, she's been promised a chance to be taken on as extracash girl in a store. And Horatio's gettin' big enough to be of somehelp. We're all strong and healthy, too, so what's the use worryin', asI say to Henry."
Say, she had Mrs. Wiggs lookin' like a consistent grouch, Ma Grummidgedid. Rowena, too, is more or less of an optimist. She's about 16, builta good deal on her mother's lines, and big enough to tackle almost anykind of work, but I take it that thus far she ain't done much excepthelp around the flat. Horatio, he's more like his father. He's only 15and ought to be in school, but it seems he spends most of his timeloafin' at home. They're a folksy fam'ly, I judge; the kind that cansit around and chat about nothing at all for hours at a time. Why, eventhe short while I was there, discoverin' how near they was to bein' putout on the street, they seemed to be havin' a whale of a time. Rowena,dressed in a saggy skirt and a shirt waist with one sleeve partly splitout, sits in the corner gigglin' at some of her Ma's funny cracks. Andthen Ma Gummidge springs that rollin' chuckly laugh of hers when Rowenaadds some humorous details about a stew they tried to make out of apiece of salt pork and a couple of carrots.
But the report I makes to Mr. Robert is mostly about facts and finances
,so he slips a ten spot or so into an envelope for 'em, and next day hefinds a club friend who owns a row of apartment houses, among them thePatricia, where there's a janitor needed. And within a week we had theGummidges all settled cozy in basement quarters, with enough to live onand more or less chance to graft off the tenants.
Then Vee has to get interested in the Gummidges, too, from hearin' metell of 'em, and the next I knew she'd added 'em to her reg'lar list.No, I don't mean she pensions Pa Gummidge, or anything like that. Shejust keeps track of the fam'ly, remembers all their birthdays, keeps 'emchirked up in various ways, shows Rowena how to do her hair so it won'tlook so sloppy, fits Horatio out so he can go back to school, andsmooths over a row Pa Gummidge has managed to get into with the tenanton the second floor west. It ain't so much that she likes to boss otherpeoples' affairs as it is that she gets to have a real likin' for 'emand can't help tryin' to give 'em a boost. And she's 'specially strongfor Ma Gummidge.
"Do you know, Torchy," she tells me, "her disposition is really quiteremarkable. She can be cheerful and good natured under the most tryingcircumstances."
"Lucky for her she can," says I. "I expect she was born that way."
"But she wasn't born to live in a basement and do janitor's work," saysVee. "For you know Gummidge puts most of it on her. No, her people werefairly well-to-do. Her father ran a shoe store up in Troy. They livedover the store, of course, but very comfortably. She had finished highschool and was starting in at the state normal, intending to be ateacher, when she met Henry Gummidge and ran off and married him. He wasnearly ten years older and was engineer in a large factory. But he lostthat position soon after, and they began drifting around. Her fatherdied and in the two years that her mother tried to manage the shoe storeshe lost all that they had saved. Then her mother died. And theGummidges kept getting poorer and poorer. But she doesn't complain. Shekeeps saying that everything will turn out all right some time. I hopeit does."
"But I wouldn't bank heavy on it," says I. "I never studied Hen.Gummidge's palm, or felt his bumps, but my guess is that he'll nevershake the jinx. He ain't the kind that does. He's headed down the chute,Henry is, and Ma Gummidge is goin' to need all her reserve stock ofcheerfulness before she gets through. You watch."
Well, it begun to look like I was some grand little prophet. Even as ajanitor Hen. Gummidge was in about the fourth class, and the Patriciaapartments were kind of high grade. The tenants did a lot of grouchin'over Henry. He wouldn't get steam up in the morning until about 8:30. Hedidn't keep the marble vestibule scrubbed the way he should, and so on.He had a lot of alibis, but mostly he complained that he was gettin'rheumatism from livin' in such damp quarters. If it hadn't been for Veetalkin' smooth to the agent Gummidge would have been fired. As it is hehangs on, limpin' around gloomy with his hand on his hip. I expect hisjoints did pain him more or less. And at last he gives up altogether andcamps down in an easy chair next to the kitchen stove.
It was about then he heard from this brother of his out in Nebo, Texas.Seems brother was an old bach who was runnin' a sheep ranch out there.Him and Henry hadn't kept close track of each other for a good manyyears, but now brother Jim has a sudden rush of fraternal affection. Hewants Henry and his family to come out and join him. He's lonesome, andhe's tired of doin' his own cookin'. He admits the ranch ain't muchaccount, but there's a livin' on it, and if Henry will come along he'llmake him an equal partner.
"Ain't that just my luck?" says Henry. "Where could I scrape up enoughmoney to move to Texas, I'd like to know?"
"Think you'd like to go, do you?" I asks.
"Course I would," says Gummidge. "It would do my rheumatism good. And,then, I'd like to see old Jim again. But Gosh! It would take more 'n ahundred dollars to get us all out there, and I ain't had that much atonce since I don't know when."
"Still," says I, "the thing might be financed. I'll see what can bedone." Meaning that I'd put it up to Mr. Robert and Vee.
"Why, surely!" says Vee. "And wouldn't that be splendid for them all?"
"You may put me down for fifty," says Mr. Robert. "If he'll move toChina I'll double it."
But Nebo seemed to be far enough off to be safe. And it was surprisin'how easy we stood it when the tickets was all bought and the time cameto say good-bye to the Gummidges. As I remember, we was almost merryover it. Even Mr. Robert has to shoot off something he thinks ishumorous.
"When you all get to Nebo," says he, "perhaps the old mountain will be alittle less lonely."
"And if anybody offers to give you a steer down there," says I, "don'trefuse. It might be just tin-horn advice, but then again he might mean along-horn beef."
As usual Henry is the only gloom in the party. He shakes his head."Brother Jim only keeps sheep," says he, "and I never did like muttonmuch, nohow. Maybe I won't live to git there, though. Seems like anawful long ways to go."
But they did land there safe enough, for about a week or ten days laterVee gets a postcard from Ma Gummidge sayin' that it was lucky they gotthere just as they did for they found Brother Jim pretty sick. She wassure she'd have him prancin' around again soon, and she couldn't say howmuch she thanked us all for what we'd done.
And with that the Gummidges sort of fades out. Not another word comesfrom 'em. Must have been a year and a half ago they went. More, Iexpect. We had one or two other things to think of meanwhile. You knowhow easy it is to forget people like that, specially when you make upyour mind that they're sort of crossed off for good. And after a spellif somebody mentioned Texas maybe I'd recall vague that I knew someonewho was down there, and wonder who it was.
Then here the other afternoon comes Vee with this announcement that theGummidges were back. Do you wonder I didn't give way to any wild,uncontrolled joy? I could see us goin' through the same old program with'em; listenin' to Pa Gummidge whine about how bad he felt, tryin' tokeep his job for him, plannin' out a career for Horatio, and watchin'Rowena split out more shirtwaists.
Vee shows up prompt a little before closin' time. She's in a taxi andhas a big suit case and a basket full of contributions. "What puzzlesme," says she, "is how he could get back his old place so readily."
"Needn't worry you long," says I. "Let's go on up and have it over withand then go somewhere for dinner."
So, of course, when we rolls up to the Patricia apartment we dives downinto janitor's quarters as usual. But we're halted by a putty-facedSwede person in blue denims, who can converse and smoke a pipe at thesame time.
"Yah, I bane yanitor here long time," says he.
"Eh?" says I. "What about Gummidge then?"
"Oh, Meester Gummidge," says he. "He bane new tenant on second floor,yes? Sublet, furnished, two days ago yet. Nice peoples."
Well, at that I stares at Vee and she stares back.
"Whaddye mean, nice?" I demands.
"Swell peoples," says the Swede, soundin' the "v" in swell. "Secondfloor."
"There must be some mistake," says Vee, "but I suppose we might as wellgo up and see."
So up we trails to the elevator, me with the suitcase in one hand andthe basket in the other, like a Santa Claus who has lost his way.
"Mr. Henry Grummidge?" says the neat elevator girl. "Yes'm. Second."
And in another minute Vee was being greeted in the dark hallway andfolded in impetuous by Ma Grummidge herself. But as we are towed intothe white and gold living room, where half a dozen pink-shaded electricbulbs are blazin', we could see that it wasn't exactly the same Mrs.Gummidge we'd known. She's about the same build, and she has the samenumber of chins. Also there's the old familiar chuckly laugh. But that'sas far as it goes. This Mrs. Gummidge is attired--that's the properword, I expect--in a black satin' evenin' dress that fits her like she'dbeen cast into it. Also her mop of brownish hair has been done up neatand artistic, and with the turquoise necklace danglin' down to herwaist, and the marquise dinner ring flashin' on her right hand, she'smore or less impressive to behold.
"Why, Mrs. Gummidge!" gasps Vee.
"I ju
st thought that's what you'd say," says she. "But wait 'till you'veseen Rowena. Come, dearie; here's comp'ny."
She was dead right. It was a case of waitin' to see Rowena, and we heldour breaths while she rustled in. Say, who'd have thought that a fewclothes could make such a difference? For instead of the big sloppyyoung female who used to slouch, gigglin' around the basement whoshould breeze in but a zippy young lady, a bit heavy about the shouldersmaybe for that flimsy style of costume, but more or less stunning, forall that. Rowena had bloomed out. In fact, she had the lilies of thefield lookin' like crepe paper imitations.
And we'd no sooner caught our breath after inspectin' her than Horatiomakes an entrance, and we behold the youngster whose usual costume wasan old gray sweater and a pair of baggy pants now sportin' a suit ofyoung hick raiment that any shimmy hound on Times Square would have beenglad to own. Slit pockets? Oh my, yes; and a soft collar that matchedhis lilac striped shirt, and cuff links and socks that toned in withboth, and a Chow dog on a leather leash.
Then Pa Gummidge, shaved and slicked up as to face and hair, his bowlegsin a pair of striped weddin' trousers and the rest of him draped in afrock coat and a fancy vest, with gold eyeglasses hung on him by a blackribbon. He's puffin' away at a Cassadora cigar that must have measuredseven inches over-all when it left the box. In fact, the Gummidges aredisplayin' all the usual marks of wealth and refinement.
"But tell me," gasps Vee, "what on earth has happened? How did--did youget it?"
"Oil," says Pa Gummidge.
Vee looks blank. "I--I don't understand," says she.
"Lemme guess," says I. "You mean you struck a gusher on the sheepranch?"
"I didn't," says Gummidge. "Them experts I leased the land to did,though. Six hundred barrels per, and still spoutin' strong. They pay mea royalty on every barrel, too."
"Oh!" says I. "Then you and Brother Jim--"
"Poor Jim!" says Henry. "Too bad he couldn't have hung on long enough toenjoy some of it. Enough for both. Lord, yes! Just my luck to lose him.Only brother I ever had. But he's missin' a lot of trouble, at that.Having to eat with your coat on, for one thing. And this grapefruit forbreakfast nonsense. I'm always squirtin' myself in the eye."
"Isn't that just like Henry?" chuckles Ma Gummidge. "Why, he grumblesbecause the oil people send him checks so often and he has to mail 'emto his bank. But his rheumatism's lots better and we're all havin' thebest time. My, it--it's 'most like being in Heaven."
She meant it, too, every word. There wasn't an ounce of joy that MaGummidge was missin'.
"And it's so nice for you to be here in a comfortable apartment, insteadof in some big hotel," says Vee.
"Henry's notion," says Mrs. Gummidge. "You remember the Whitleys thatcomplained about him? He had an idea Whitley's business was peteringout. Well, it was, and he was glad enough to sub-let to Henry. Neverknew, either, until after the lease was signed, who we were. Furnishedkind of nice, don't you think?"
"Why, Ma!" protests Rowena. Then she turns to Vee. "Of course, it'll dofor a while, until we find something decent up on Riverside Drive; onewith a motor entrance, you know. You're staying for dinner, aren't you?"
"Why," begins Vee, glancin' doubtful at me, "I think we----"
"Oh, do stay!" chimes in Ma Gummidge. "I did the marketing myself today;and say, there's a rib roast of beef big enough for a hotel, mushroomsraised under glass, an alligator pear salad, and hothouse strawberriesfor dessert. Besides, you're about the only folks we know that we couldask to dinner. Please, now!"
So we stayed and was waited on by two haughty near-French maids whotried to keep the Gummidges in their places, but didn't more than halfsucceed.
As we left, Rowena discovers for the first time all the hand luggage."Oh!" says she, eyeing the suitcase. "You are in town for the week-end,are you?"
"Not exactly," says' I. "Just a few things for a fam'ly that Vee thoughtmight need 'em."
And Vee gets out just in time to take the lid off a suppressed snicker."Only think!" says she. "The Gummidges living like this!"
"I'm willing," says I. "I get back my shirts."