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A busy little man was David Lannarck in the week that followed. With ahorse to break and a speech to make, the time was fully occupied. Thecolt was quartered at the Gillis barn. Davy stayed with the colt. Ofmornings, Landy assisted with the colt's grooming and education. Hiswhite mane and tail were washed and brushed and his red coat fairlyshone from the attention given. Landy rasped his feet to evenness andcautioned that he would have to be shod if used on hard-surfacedroads. "Potter can shoe him all right," he explained, "but we'll haveto send an order for a set of little shoes to fit."
The morning rides were usually on the rather level roadway that led upto Pinnacle Point, but there were sidetrips down ill-defined paths tothe little creeks. Landy sometimes went along to advise as to roadgaits. The Gillis dogs were constant companions. In fact, since thenight of Davy's arrival they waited around until he made hisappearance and followed him constantly. Except for the fact that hewas scheduled to make a public appearance at Adot next Saturday night,David Lannarck was now enjoying the rest and joys that he had dreamedof and planned when he was oppressed by the mob.
"I am not writing out a speech," Davy explained to Mrs. Gillis as hebent over the pad of paper, pencil in hand. "I am just jotting downsome incidents of circus life that the public might want to know. Thisgirl over at the B-line--My, oh, my, but she's got a compelling lineof chatter. If she would do the ballyhoo for a Kid Show, she wouldpack 'em in to bust down the sidewalls. Now this girl said I was totalk about midgets and circuses. What I know about midgets andcircuses would fill two books. My problem is to leave out thecommonplace routine and tell 'inside stuff.'"
Mrs. Gillis had cleared a side table where Davy, in his high chair,could jot down the items that he would use in his talk. It was whilehe was thus engaged of afternoons and evenings that Mrs. Gillis heardthe life story of the only midget she had ever known.
"My name wasn't always Lannarck," Davy explained one afternoon whenMrs. Gillis detailed something of her ancestry and early childhood."My name was O'Rahan, and I was christened Daniel. I am Irish--bothsides. My Dad was a young, happy-go-lucky Irish lad, a hard worker, afree liver, and surely improvident. Foot-loose and free he joined aparty in the rush to the Klondike. Three years later he came back withenough money to fill a pad saddle. And they took it away from him asfast as he had accumulated it.
"He met my mother, Ellen Monyhan, at a party, and he was as speedy atcourting as he was at spending. They were married but a short whilewhen the financial crash came. He was ashamed and humiliated but notbeaten. He wanted another try at this fascinating game. He went backto the Klondike--and to his death at sea.
"I was born in a hospital in Springfield. My young, heartbroken motherdied there. There were no relatives nearer than cousins. In due time Iwas committed to an orphanage. I have no memory of either parent andmy information concerning them is meager and second hand. Now thisorphanage was well conducted, but it wasn't a home; it was aninstitution. With anywhere from thirty to sixty children to care for,it lacked the personal equation. It was mass production--you didthings by rote, en-masse--no individuality. But I have no complaint.As a babe and child I was well-fed and clothed, in a uniform common toall.
"And then I started to school along with all the others. But somethingwas happening to me that did not happen to the others. I quit growing.Mentally I was like the others--kept up with my grades--but I nevergrew taller than thirty-two inches and never weighed more thanthirty-eight pounds. Other children would shoot up like corn stalks,but I stayed right where I had been in the months and years past.
"To me, it was a heart breaking disclosure. I wanted to play ball, tomake the team, only to find that as the slow months crept on, I wasassigned to the playground of the little kids, babes, toddlers. Theballs, bats, mitts, and other playthings were too big for me. But Ikept up with my classes in school and maybe the disappointments insports urged me to win somewhere else. I won the eighth-grade prize inarithmetic and mechanical drawing. And then came high school, and thegreat disaster, quickly followed by an entrance into an Orphan'sHeaven--a home in a private family. In the shifting personnel at theorphanage, there were fewer high-school pupils. We went to a differentbuilding over different streets. It was no doubt a singular sight tothe residents to see a midget with six-footers, but it was just thatway. And it must have been a singular sight to Loron Usark, a bigchildish lout that lived on Spruce Street. We would pass the end ofthe alley back of his house and he was out there every day to watch usgo by. Now this Loron was too weak, mentally, for school. Orderedaround by everybody and pestered and teased by many, themoronic-minded will seek a victim that he can abuse and bend to hisown will, and this Loron party was on the lookout. One day he caughtme tagging along behind the others. He grabbed me and would havebeaten me, but my companions rescued me. After that, I had to be onthe lookout. I was marked for slaughter by this fool.
"Mrs. Gillis," Davy changed his tone of voice to a deeper bass, as washis wont when he desired to impress a listener. He shook his pencil athis deeply interested audience of one. "Mrs. Gillis, I've seen a lotof people in my time. Except for old-time circus people and theatricaltroopers, I've seen a million more than my share. And you can setthis down on your mental calendar as an established truth: wheneveryou see a Big One taunting a Little One, you can set him down as a bigcoward. And, whenever you see a Dub kidding a Lout, you can be assuredthat the dub is trying to lift himself above a similar rating.
"Well, this Loron lout finally got me," said Davy, resuming the threadof his life story. "I was on my way back to the orphanage for a bookand as I passed the alley he swept me down. They were good sidewalksout there, else he would have broken them in bits as he pounded myhead on 'em. He kicked when he could and struck as often as he cared.His exultant cries must have attracted attention, for I was past evenan outcry. Finally a lady rushed out of the nearby house and came tothe rescue. The lout ran, of course. I stayed put. I couldn't doanything else. The lady gathered me up, carried me into the house,laid me on a couch as I passed out entirely.
"When I came to, a doctor had been there to patch me up and passjudgment on my chances. He had washed off a lot of blood, plastered mycheek, clipped my hair to plaster some more places, eased some bodywelts, and announced that no bones had been broken. I was in a bed,most of my clothing had been removed, and the lady was offering me adrink of water. I took it.
"Mrs. Gillis," here Davy gave his voice its lowest pitch, "Mrs.Gillis, that woman was Mrs. Sarah Wentworth Lannarck, and I know youwon't condemn me or be jealous when I say that she was the kindest,most considerate woman that ever drew the breath of life. There havebeen a lot of noble women on this troubled earth, doing what theycould to ease pain, to keep down strife, and to make the world abetter place in which to live. They are all worthy of our praise, butto me, Mrs. Lannarck is sainted, and apart from the rest. Well, therest of the story is in happier settings and more readable chapters,"said Davy, as he noted that Mrs. Gillis was somewhat affected by therecital. "I really suspect that you would know more about theseconditions than I. Personally, I think all women want to manage ahome, want to boss the inmates. If there are no children, then theymanage the men-folk, or the household pets. And I was Mrs. Lannarck'spet. She used me as a substitute for the children that never came intoher life. I was little; I was injured; I was a fit object of hersuppressed affections.
"She telephoned Mrs. Philpott, matron at the orphanage, and when shecalled to see me, Mrs. Lannarck arranged to care for me until I waswell. She explained the whole affair to Mr. Lannarck, when he camehome to luncheon and that big, grave, silent man accepted herstatements without comment. Sick as I was, I heard all this and I too,made some resolutions. I was not going to miss this chance of having ahome, and a mother. The very next morning I offered to get up and helpher do the dishes. She laughed like a girl, and vetoed my offer. In aday or two I limbered up enough to get into my clothes and I putteredaround, offering to do things. My help was declined, but I could seethat it ha
d the right effect.
"I didn't go to school for a few days. My face and head were still inbandages. The story of the attack was in the newspaper and the civilauthorities committed the moron to an institution for thefeeble-minded. Some of the orphan kids visited me and I got them tobring my little set of drawing tools. I was tinkering with these whenMister Lannarck came in. He looked at some of my sketches and asked ifI could draft a plan in true proportions. I told him I thought Icould, if I had the correct measurements. He put on his coat and left.
"Now Mr. Lannarck was a carpenter-contractor. Not a big one, with anoffice and a draftsman, bookkeeper and such; just a carpenter with adesk in the front room where he kept his papers. He had littleeducation but his figures were correct. He had built good buildings,but he specialized in repairs--in the upkeep of property--and he hadmany clients. He was honest and fair; he made money and saved it. Hecould read blueprints but he couldn't make 'em. His fingers were allthumbs when it came to outlining.
"Presently he came back with some figures, and about the worst outlineI had ever seen. He explained it was a church. It was to have anaddition. There was a memorial window to be taken out and placed atthe right place in the new part. He had the correct figures and hewanted a rough draft to show 'em. He gave me some big sheets to workon.
"That night, Mrs. Lannarck had to order me to bed, I was thatinterested. The next morning I was up early. That evening I showed himmy outline. He didn't say much. He took the drawings and his ownfigures to a meeting that night. When he came home he said he hadclosed the deal, that my outline was what had helped, said it wouldmake money. My, oh, my, but there was a proud boy in a big bed at theLannarck home that night. That was the first dollar I have everearned. Of course, I didn't get the dollar, but I got much more.
"It sounds sorta mushy, doesn't it, Mrs. Gillis," said Davy,interrupting the recital. "Kind of a Pollyanna tale with a HoratioAlger finish. But in none of his stories did Alger ever portray atougher background or give it a bigger skyrocket finish. Just think ofit, Mrs. Gillis! Here was a kid with the black thought that he wasnever to be a man; was never to do a man's work, never to win in anymanly contest. Worse yet, he had never seen his father or felt amother's caress. He never had had a place called home. Do you blamehim for horning in?
"Well, it worked out better than I hoped. The next day Mrs. Lannarckbegan moving the furniture in one of the bedrooms. She emptied dresserdrawers, cleared out the closet and brought in other things. Then sheinvited me up there; told me that she had arranged every thing andthis was to be my room, where I could put my things.
"Things? Why, I had come into that home with a busted head and not apenny in my pocket. The very clothes that I wore belonged to thecounty. Except for the little drawing tools I had, you could have putall of my things in a thimble. Yet I was the richest man inSpringfield.
"I lived in that room four happy blessed years. They were years of fewincidents and no friction. Mrs. Lannarck bought me a complete outfitof clothing, and she was as particular about the details as if it werea bride's trousseau. She even provided me with a weekly allowance,small, to be sure, but there was nothing I needed. I kept right on atschool and helped around the house wherever I could. I kept Mr.Lannarck's books, made out his estimates, and drafted his plans. Ichecked up his payrolls, met his workmen, and his banker. I even metthe judge of the court when they adopted me and changed my name.
"I went to church with Mrs. Lannarck, went to Sunday School, and tookpart in the entertainments. They insisted I was a drawing card andthey featured the appearance of a midget on the program. It was allright by me if it met the approval of the Lannarcks.
"During the war, the committee featured me in the Bond Drives. Therewas a big fellow I teamed up with, named George Ruark. He was nearly aseven-footer and weighed three hundred. I could stand in his two handsas he held them in front of him and urged everybody to back up the waras strongly as I was backed. It made a hit; it got results.
"And then inevitable but unwanted death stalked in, to ruineverything. Mister Lannarck died. He was older than I had thought. Hewas always careful and honest. He was putting a new roof on theAuditorium when he fell. Maybe it was a stroke. They took him to thehospital. He died on the third day after the fall.
"This was the beginning of the end. A link was broken in the chain. Itnever mended. Mrs. Lannarck bore up bravely, but I could see that shehad lost all earthly joys and simply awaited her summons. Mr.Lannarck's financial affairs were in good shape. He left quite anestate. The income was ample for our simple needs, but that was notenough. Mrs. Lannarck simply could not go on. She died in a littleover a year following the death of her companion. For the second timein my life, I was an orphan.
"But this time I was to have a guardian. I had been legally adopted. Iwas the heir. I was rich. In the first fifteen years of my life, I hadnever seen money, never a penny of my own. Now it was the other way.After the funeral I went down to the bank to consult with MisterGaynor. He handed me a sealed envelope. It was a message from thedear, kind, motherly Mrs. Lannarck. It was a letter of kindly advice,personal and spiritual. She said that she never doubted but that Iwould walk in the right path, but she made this final appeal. If Inever married, never had heirs or dependents, and if there was any ofthe Lannarck estate left at my death, would I make a will, leaving aportion of it to the Grace Avenue Presbyterian Church, in trust forits upkeep, and a portion to the county orphanage, for the occasionalentertainment of its inmates.
"Mrs. Gillis." Davy was the one now affected by the recitals. Hisvoice was lower and slower. "Mrs. Gillis, after reading that message,I hadn't the tears out of my eyes nor my voice cleared up, until I wasmaking that will. Gaynor did the work, he knew how, that was hisbusiness, and he made it read just as Mrs. Lannarck had requested. TheTrust Department of the bank was made the trustee. One-half of allincome from my estate was to be paid to the church, the other half fororphanage entertainment. It stands just that way yet, although thevalue of the estate has doubled.
"The Lannarck estate was what the bank folks called Income Property.It included two suburban store rooms with apartments above. There werethree very good residences, five shares of bank stock, bonds and notesand a considerable bank deposit. I made a resolution then and there,that I would never touch a penny of it, and that resolution has beenkept. The income has piled up until it now nearly equals theprincipal. Poor old Gaynor, the next-best friend I ever had, keeps theincome collected and invested, and if this depression would only letup and give him a chance, he could build those Presbyterians a newchurch and give the orphans a picture show every night.
"Of course I've earned quite a lot of money, meanwhile, but Gaynorkeeps that as a separate checking account; says circuses andvaudeville are not a dependable source of income and that I may gobroke. This Ralph Gaynor is a wonder in his line, but it's not my kindof a line. He talks of interest, margins of safety, of unearnedincrements, corporate earnings, and things like that. His is not thebig bank, with its long rows of figures. His is just a little'Dollar-Down' concern, and he owns it all. Just now, in thisdepression, the Big Fellows are running to him asking, 'What to do?'And he's telling 'em to trim sails and stay close to shore.
"Ralph Gaynor is the second helpful man to come into my life, but whenI grew sick and tired of being gawked at, during all my waking hoursand resolved to duck away from the mob, I didn't go back to RalphGaynor for advice. He just wouldn't understand. The word 'recreation'is not in his vocabulary. Colts, dogs, kid-saddles, horseback riding,Landy's wisecracks, and my present-day joys have no listed values withRalph Gaynor, and I passed him up. If it were Mrs. Lannarck, she wouldunderstand and give it sympathetic approval.
"Well, that's something of the life story of one midget, Mrs. Gillis.Add to this, twelve long summers with circuses and the winters spentin vaudeville (both with their mobs and gawking crowds) and it'salmost a completed volume. There is yet one chapter to be added and Iwant to talk about it to the public. One man, Baron Singer, did morefor
midgets--little people--than any other person, in all time. Helifted them out of the mediocre; gave them standing and personality.I never met the Baron, but I want the public to know what great workhe did for an underprivileged group. And I will tell 'em Saturdaynight."
David Lannarck, Midget Page 9