Page 8 of Maggie Now

being in uniform. But that's the way he walked with his

  Lottie too, whether he was in uniform or not. People on

  the street reacted.

  Those whose pleasure came from the ill luck of others

  thought: I don't know what he did hut I'm glad they caught

  him. Kinder

  [ s7 ]

 

  people thought: The poor thing! So young, to go wrong. I

  hope they're easy on him.

  The Moriarity household watched him leave with the

  policeman. Biddy watched from behind the bars of the

  basement diningroom window. The Boss and The Missus

  watched from behind the lace curtains of the parlor and

  Mary watched alone from the music room. They sat` how

  pale and drawn his face looked under the street light.

  Biddy was sure in her mind that Patsy Moore had raped

  a servant girl and gotten her in the family way. The

  Missus was sure he'd stolen a bag of phoney because it

  would be Christmas soon and he wanted to buy presents

  for everyone.

  Moriarity had it figured out. The big cop was a stool

  pigeon sent by the reform candidate who hoped to be

  elected in November. The cop was taking Patsy away so

  that the higher-ups of the reform party could force him to

  inform on the activities of him, Michael Moriaritv.

  Only Mary felt the truth. He has had news that grieved

  hill', she thought.

  ~9 CH~IP7ER EIGHT A

  Lo-rrl1 made up a little party for Patsy. She sent Big Red

  out to the delicatessen for smoked whitefish, slabs of

  creamy, smoked sturgeon and wedges of smoked eel. She

  gave him instructions to get a dozen bottles of light

  beer off the ice. (She didn't think it was refined to run

  down for a pail of draft beer when company came.)

  Lottie thoughtfully plied Patsy with food. "Eat," she said.

  "It will help you forget your sorrows and troubles."

  Big Red asked for permission to soak his feet. He

  explained that he'd gone to Moriarity's directly from work

  and hadn't had an opportunity . . . His request was

  graciously granted by wife and guest

  I )h, I

  The food was gone, the beer was nearly gone and they

  had a hard time digging up things to talk about. Big Red

  thought a little entertainment was in order. He asked

  Lottie to sing. She demurred, as was proper, and modestly

  confessed she had never had her voice cultivated. Big Red

  told her she was too bashful for her own good. He told

  Patsy that she had a grand voice. She broke down under

  the coaxing and said she'd sing if Big Red would

  accompany her on his bugle. He demurred too, because in

  polite society one must not be too eager to show off one's

  talent. After the coaxing had gone on too long and Patsy

  and Lottie were about to take his word for it that he

  couldn't blow a note, he gave in, rummaged in the clothes

  closet, and came up with his bugle.

  He stood in the middle of the parlor in his bare feet

  and, after a few false starts, he played a stirring reveille.

  After he had gotten all of the neighbors' children out of

  bed, he tapered off, stood at attention holding his bugle

  over his heart, while Lottie sang:

  Oh, the-e-e-yice Neal

  Is a nice man . . .

  When her SOIIg was done, he lifted his bugle and

  played a long-drawn-out taps. Widdy, who had arisen from

  his cot at reveille, now crawled back after taps. It had

  been a short day for him. Lottie waited until the boy was

  sound asleep again before she suggested! they ought to get

  Widdy up to recite "Hiawatha." Big Red went in and

  shook him awake.

  Widdv stood in the middle of the parlor. He took a

  short CUt through the coaxing. He w as anxious to get

  back to bed.

  By the shores of Girchee Goomce, By the shining

  Big-Sea-Water, Stood the u igwam of Nokomis.

  Daughter of the moon, Nokomis.

  He droned on and on and on in a monotonous singsong.

  When he had finished, Patsy clapped in delirious and

  noisy delight not in praise but in deep gratitude that the

  interminable droning was at an end. Widdy wanted to go

  back to bed but Big Red ordered him to wait for the treat

  of the evening.

  1 i91

 

  'This you must not miss, me son," he said. He turned to

  Patsy. Would you now, Pathrick, dance one of your grand

  old Irish jigs for us?"

  Lottie put her hands together and made a sound of

  ecstasy. Patsy shook his head. Well, that was right to

  refuse at first; not to seem eager. They understood. He

  wanted his full share of coaxing.

  "Pretty please? " begged Lottie. "With whipped cream on

  top? "

  "I couldn't," said Patsy.

  "Don't be like that, boy," said Big Red heartily.

  Under the coaxing, Patsy's feet started to tingle. The

  rotation of the steps raced through his mind. He was

  about to make the speech of acceptance:

  I-might-be-a-little-rusty, but-I'II-try, when Widdy had to

  put in his two cents' worth.

  "Hey, Pop! Ain't this the feller you licked that time you

  went to Ireland, when he was jigging?"

  "Oh, Widdy!" moaned Lottie piteously.

  "Shut up, son," said Big Red, low and ominously.

  "But, Pop!" Widdy made puzzled peaks out of his

  eyebrows. 'You said! You told me and Mom how you

  licked the . . ."

  The back of Big Red's hand, with tufts of red hair on

  the knuckles, made an arc Ad landed on Widdy's cheek.

  The blow sent the kid halfway across the parlor.

  "That'll learn you," said Big Red. "You and your

  Nokomis!"

  "It's past his bedtime," said Lottie.

  "What s he doing up so late then?" He turned to yell at

  Widdy. "Get back in bed," he shouted, "where you

  belong!"

  I could kill him, thought Patsy. Him and his ~help!

  "I got to go," said Patsy.

  "Now," said Big Red, "you know how kids is."

  "You can't go," wailed I,ottie. "I was just going to make

  some strong hot coffee and send Timmy down to see if

  the baker's is still open and get a crumb cake."

  "I'll thank you for me cap and for nothing else," said

  Patsy.

  Lottie, with tears in her eyes, begged him to stay. Big

  Red assured him that he wouldn't have had it happen for

  a million dollars but what can NTou do with kids? When

  they saw that Patsy was not to be moved, Big Red went to

  the door with him and said the correct fat ewell words:

  1 6,, 1

  "Now that you knot` the way to our house, don't be a

  stranger."

  "May God strike me dead," said Patsy passionately, "if I

  ever set foot in this house again!"

  "I had enough out of you," said Big Red. "A mistake was

  made. All right! I apologised. What do I get back? May

  God strike you dead if you ever . . . You listen to me:

  May I drop dead if I ever let you set foot in this house
br />   again!"

  "Yeah?" said Patsy.

  "Yeah! And another thing: Oncet I crossed the ocean to

  give you a good licking. This time I just got to cross

  Newtown Creek to give you more where that first licking

  came from."

  "Yeah? "

  "Yeah! "

  "Yeah?" repeated Patsy. "Well, listen!" He opened the

  door and put one foot out. "I'll bury youse all," shouted

  Patsy. "And enjoy me bowl of pot cheese after the

  funeral."

  Then he ran like hell.

  `~ CHAPTER NINE ~

  MARY, sitting at her window and waiting for Patsy, saw

  him come home about one A.M. He had stopped in at the

  saloon to have a few beers and to brood. He climbed up

  to his loft and without lighting the lamp threw himself on

  his cot.

  Mary slipped out of the house in her dressing gown and

  bedroom slippers. She stood at the foot of the ladder

  leading to the loft. One of the horses whinnied and for a

  second she was afraid someone would awaken in the

  house. She waited. No light went on. She called Patsy's

  name. He didn't answer, pretending not to hear. She

  climbed up to his room. He lit the lamp. She went to the

  table and turned the lamp low. He was in a panic.

  "Miss Mary, please go," he said. "God help me if your

  father finds you in me room this late."

  "Never mind my father," she said. "Patrick, please tell me

  all

  ~ 6' ]

 

  about it." He shook his head. "You've had bad news from

  Ireland." He said nothing. "Is it your mother?" He turned

  away from her.

  "I am your friend, Patrick. Tell your friend your

  troubles. Don't hold them to yourself. A trouble shared is

  a trouble halved. Tell me, Patrick. It may help."

  He broke down a little and started telling her. He spoke

  of his boyhood, his mother, Rory-Boy and Maggie Rose.

  He told of being whipped by Big Red and how he had

  sneaked out of Ireland and how his money had been

  stolen his first day in America. And then he told of his

  mother's death and Maggie Rose's marriage and the

  humiliating evening at Big Red's home.

  Her eyes were filled with tears all during his story.

  "And now," he concluded, "me old life is gone and the

  new life I'm making . . . I mean the new life everyone is

  making for me is no good. I don't like nobody no more

  and I don't want nobody to like me."

  "You don't mean that, Patrick. You say that because

  you've been so hurt; and so alone in a strange land."

  "I mean it. I'm never going to give nothing to nobody

  and I'm going to take everything I can get from

  everybody."

  She smiled at his boyish ultimatum. "Ah, no, Patrick,"

  she said. "You could never live like that. Why, you're so

  young so full of life. Everyone would like you so much

  if only you'd let people...."

  Suddenly, he broke down and wept piteously. She held

  out her arms in compassion.

  "Come to me, Patrick dear," she said. "Come to me."

  She stood before him, her arms outstretched toward

  him. Her loose robe concealed the way she was straight up

  and down without curves. Her hair hung loose to her waist

  and the golden lamplight made her pass for pretty.

  Because he was so lonesome and so starved for love, he

  went to her. She held him tightly and kept saying: "There

  now. There now." She was like a mother soothing a child.

  "There now," she said. Ele put his arms about her waist

  and she stroked his shoulder and said: "There now. Don't

  cry any more."

  They held each other. But no matter how tightly they

  held each other, there was no blending. Her body stayed

  straight and

  ~ 6' 1

 

  stiff. It did not know how to relax against his.

  He thought of the last time he had held Maggie

  Rose how her little waist curved in and her thighs curved

  out. He remembered the evening. He had stood with one

  foot up on a stone wall and she had leaned against him.

  He remembered how his upraised thigh had fitted the

  curve of her waist and how the curve of his arm fitted all

  around her.

  When a girl and a man fit together so grand, he thought,

  sure God made them for each other. And why did I ever

  leave me own Maggie Rose? He sighed.

  And this good girl l'nz holding in me awns now, he

  thought sadly, we will never fit together.

  He was quiet and she thought he was comforted. "I

  NN7i~ leave you now," she said. She waited. He kissed

  her cheek. He held the lamp so that she could find her

  way down from his loft.

  After she had slipped back into the house, he came

  down from his loft and stood in the yard. He leaned

  against the stable and smoked his pipe and thought of

  Mary how good she was; how kind and understanding.

  He felt warm toward her. It was almost like love. Then his

  mood was broken. Biddy came out from behind a snowball

  bush.

  "Ah, so," she said. "So me pretty man changed his mind

  about waiting for the marrying before he did you know

  what."

  "Go away, Biddy," he said wearily.

  "That I won't till I've had me say."

  He looked at her with aversion. Her hair was in a thick

  braid down her back and the end of it twitched and

  writhed around her backside like a black snake. She wore

  a crepe kimono and her flesh was unconfined beneath it.

  There was a continuous movement under the kimono as

  though something were boiling inside. Patsy winced.

  I avoider do then things hurt her, he thought, and them

  not being hoisted up and resting on top of the corset.

  "I seen youse," she said. "There I was sleeping and I

  heard this noise and what do I do but I wake up. First, I

  thought it was only the horses pooling around in the straw.

  Then I looked up at your window and saw youse spooning

  against the lamplight."

  "Go back to bed," he said. He emptied his pipe by

  tapping it against the heel of his shoe. He stamped out the

  few live coals

  ~ 63 1

 

  and turned to go back t-O his room. "Good night," he

  said.

  "Listen!" she raised her voice. "I'm going to tell The

  Boss on you. On the both of youse."

  "Do so," he whispered savagely, "and I'll tell The Boss

  on you! How you put in your Thursday night off by

  working in Madame Della's aitch house in Greenpoint."

  She sucked in her breath and her face looked purple in

  the moonlight. "'Tis a black lie," she choked out.

  "I know it," he agreed. "But The Boss will take it for

  true. For is he not the one who likes to think the worst of

  everyone?"

  "You'll see!" she threatened.

  At breakfast next morning, Mary told her parents of the

  death of Patsy's m
other.

  "Is he an orphan then?" asked The Missus.

  "Why not?" said Mike. "And we all got to go someday."

  He raved condensed milk over cooked ground horse's oats

  in a soup plate.

  "Papa," said Mary, 'Patrick's too good for the stable. He

  wasn't meant to be a serf ant. Couldn't you use your

  influence . . . pull . . . to get him better work?"

  "Nothing doing," said her father. "I'll not give meself the

  trouble of breaking in a new stable boy."

  "At least, then, let him have that empty room on the top

  floor of the house. That stable room isn't fit for a man to

  live in."

  "The next thing you know," he said jokingly, "you'll be

  wanting to marry him."

  "I do," she said quietly. "And I will if he asks me."

  "Yah-ha-ha! Yah-ha-ha!" laughed Mike. "You and the

  stable boy! That's rich. Ya-ha . . ."

  Then something unprecedented happened. The Missus

  spoke up to The Boss! "I don't see nothing to laugh at,"

  she said.

  He put down his spoon with meticulous care. "What did

  you say, Missus? " he asked ominously.

  "She's going on twenty-eight," said The Missus. "So far

  no one asked her to get married." (Mary winced.) "So I

  say if the boy wants to marry her, let him. She might not

  get no other chance."

  1 64]

 

  "What did you say?" roared Mike, picking up his napkin

  ring as though to throw it at her.

  The Missus jumped up so suddenly that her chair fell

  over backward. "Nothing," she whispered. "I didn't say

  nothing. Excuse me." She scuttled out of the room.

  "See what you done?" Mike asked his daughter. "You

  and your loony talk at the table. Made your mother so

  nervous she couldn't eat."

  "Excuse me, Papa," said Mary quietly. "I'm almost late

  for my class." She left him alone with his now cold horse's

  oats.

  Patsy was sweeping the sidewalk. The Boss peeped

  through the lace curtains and watched Mary as she

  stopped to talk to the stable boy. She seemed to be talking

  eagerly. He saw Patsy nod his head from time to time and

  he saw them smile at each other. She patted the boy's

  shoulder in farewell. He waved to her when she turned for

  a backward look.

  Mike waited until Mary- had turned the corner before

  he went down to deal with Patsy. He came up silently

  behind him and shouted: "You!" It pleased him when

  Patsy almost dropped his broom.

  "Listen, y ou! You keel' your place. Hear? Let me see

  you getting friendly with Miss Mary and you'll hear from

  me. Get me? "

  "She wants to be me friend. 'Tis kind of her."

  "I told you before: She's kind to everyone. Even the

  mongrel dogs on the street. And I tell you again: Don't

  get idears."

  "What idears?"

  "Like you think you're good enough to marry her."

  "I do not have such an idear. But if I wanted to marry

  her and she wanted to marry me, whose business would it

  be? Only ours, being's we're both of age. But rest your

  mind. I'm not thinking of marrying."

  "I'm glad to hear it," said Mike sarcastically. "Because

  me daughter ain't thinking of marrying either especially

  marrying a stable boy."

  "I wasn't born a stable boy," said Patsy, quietly. "You

  made me one. And Mary . . ."

  "Miss Mary," corrected Mikc.

  [ 65 1

 

  "Mary," continued Patsy evenly, "don't look on me as

  just a stable boy."

  "Deary me, no," said Mike mincingly. "She loves you."

  "Yes," said Patsy quietly.

  "And you love her?"

  Patsy hesitated before he answered. He said: "I'm

  attached to her."

  "Attached to her! Attached, you say, Mister Pathrick

  Dennis Moore! And would it be that she's me only child

  and she and her husband would fall in for all of me

  property and money when me and The Missus dies have

  anything to do with this here attachment?"

  "Yes," said Patsy. "If I have to put up with the likes of

  you for a father-in-law, by God, I'd deserve the property