The Challengers (4 page)

"Quick! Melissa! Put her on the davenport!" commanded Phyllis. "I'll get her a cup of tea. She's done out! Oh, we shouldn't have let her wait so long. She's had nothing to eat all day!"

"Oh, gee! Wait!" said Bob as he saw the tea being poured. "I'll run and get a bottle of milk and some cream. I've got money enough left for that."

"Yes, go," said Phyllis, "but I can't wait for that. We must get something hot into her stomach at once. Or wait, Bob. See if she revives. We might have to send for a doctor, you know."

"Oh, gee!" said Bob in awe and dismay and hovered anxiously at the edge of the group.

But the first drop of hot tea that passed her lips brought the mother back to her anxious little family again, and Bob went whistling out across the street to the drugstore to get some cream and a whole bottle of milk.

When he came back, his mother was propped up with pillows on the davenport and Melissa was feeding her spoonfuls of tea. The color was coming slowly back into her face, and from the kitchenette came the most delicious odor of broiling beefsteak.

It was not till then that Rosalie came softly around the little table to the gas stove where Phyllis was broiling the steak and whispered in a tone full of wonder and delight, and a kind of sweet shame, almost as if she were half-frightened at what she had done.

"Oh, Phyllis, what do you think? It was a
beefsteak
I prayed for! Wasn't that wonderful?"

Phyllis looked at her little sister with an almost startled expression.

"You did!" she said thoughtfully. "That is very strange! Yes, I guess it was wonderful."

They were just about to sit down to their wonderful meal. Phyllis had lifted the plate from the soaked bread and put in a generous chunk of butter with chopped onions and parsley, and its savory smell mingled with the heavenly smell of that wonderful steak, steaming there on its platter. The glasses were brimming with milk, a mound of jelly was quivering in the center of the table, and the teapot with a fresh supply of tea was ready. The mother was just insisting that she was entirely able to get up and sit at the table now that she had been revived by the tea, and everybody was cheerful and hungry to the last degree. Then, suddenly, they heard a door slam on the other side of the hall, and a heavy step came down the hall, that ominous Barkus footfall that had grown familiar through the last bitter months of their sojourn in Slacker Street. Everybody stopped short and listened to the menacing steps, and Phyllis almost dropped the carving knife she held, a look of fear coming into her face. This surely was swift retribution coming to her for making the furnace fire! She looked at Melissa, and Melissa shrank visibly, as they both looked at the white-faced little mother. What could they do to prevent a scene? What might not happen to Mother if she had to go through another such tirade as they had endured last evening?

Then the heavy footsteps halted at their door, and a thunderous knock came, resounding enough to wake the Seven Sleepers. In shocked silence the five hungry Challengers stood and listened to that knock and looked at one another.

Just that instant they stood listening. Then Phyllis laid down the whetstone and the carving knife she was sharpening and walked swiftly over to the door.

"Don't you go, Phyl," whispered Melissa, putting out a frightened detaining hand. "I'll go."

"No," said Phyllis, summoning a fleeting grin. "It's my job." And she swept the door open bravely.

Mrs. Barkus was short and square, with a large head covered with coarse black hair, always untidy. Her eyes now as she stood under the flickering hall light of the old gas jet looked like battle-axes, and her nostrils were widespread like a warhorse that snuffs the battle from afar.

"Where's yer ma?" she asked, sending a sharp glance into the room beyond.

"Mother is lying down. She's just come in, and she's not feeling well. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I guess she don't feel well. I guess that's a convenient way to get outta her obligations," sneered the Barkus, lumbering a step nearer. "Well, that don't make any diffrunce ta me. Step aside. I wantta see yar ma."
"Please!" said Phyllis, stepping in front of the woman as she made to enter the room. "Mother fainted dead away when she came in, and we've just been able to bring her to. Won't you talk a little more quietly, Mrs. Barkus? Mother really is feeling very unwell, and I'm afraid she may faint again."

"Oh, yes, I suppose she can do it to order any minute. She prob'ly had lots of experience. But ya can't put that over on me. I'm not a spring chicken. I'm going ta see fer myself. Get outta my way!" She thrust Phyllis aside and strode angrily into the room, going straight over to the couch to face Mrs. Challenger, who had half risen with a white frightened look on her face.

"Now," said the landlady, planting her feet wide apart and her hands on her ample hips, "I'd just have ya ta know that I'm not goin' ta stand fer ya snoopin' down inta my cellar and wastin' my good kindlin' wood, and coal, and presumin' ta start up the fire till it's hot 'nuf to roast an ox. Yer lucky ya didn't set fire to the chimbley an' have the hull house ta pay fer in the bargain. I never see such terrible waste in my hull life as I thought I'd die of the heat when I come back to my home. Yar no lady, an' that's a fact, puttin' up yar fool kids to a spite trick like that when my back's turned. Yar codfish aristocracy, that's what ya are, an' I'll have the p'lice onta ya ef I ever ketch ya in a trick like that again. It's housebreakin' I can hold ya fer, good and tight, darin' ta set fut in my cellar an' monkey 'ith my fire. An' all fer spite, jus' because I asked ya fer my rightful money accordin' ta the bargain."

"Stop!" shouted Bob in Mrs. Barkus's large ear. "Don't you dare to talk like that ta my mother!"

Mrs. Barkus had stopped for a breath and a fresh supply of words, but now she turned with blazes in her eyes and made a dive at Bob, bringing down her broad pudgy hands smartly where Bob's mouth had been but a second before. But Bob slid out neatly from under and faced her from the opposite side of the room, his best fighting grin on his impudent young face.

"Robert!" said Mrs. Challenger's distressed voice.

"Hush, Bob!" said Phyllis with a commanding hand upon his shoulder. "Listen, Mrs. Barkus. You needn't talk to my mother about that fire, nor to any of the rest of us. I was the one who made it. My mother has just got home, and she doesn't know anything about it. I understood that we were supposed to have heat when we rented the apartment, and the rooms had been so cold all day that my teeth were chattering. I knew Mother would be home pretty soon, and she was half-sick anyway when she went out, and I felt something must be done. So I went to your door to ask you to please give us more heat, and no one answered, so I went down cellar to see if I could do anything myself, and I found the fire just going out. There was scarcely a spark left, and I did the best I could. You didn't want the fire to go entirely out, did you?"

Mrs. Barkus had faced around toward Phyllis like an old bull that had suddenly been deprived of a red flag and was turning on a new victim. Red eyed and angry, she wagged her head at the frail young girl and roared.

"Want the fire ta go out? I certainly did. What else d'ya 'spose I wasted the hull day fer, takin' the baby ta my sister-in-law's what I don't scarcely speak ta most times, jest ta show ya ya couldn't beat me outta my money and expect heat while yer a doin' it? Ya impertinent huzzy, ya! I'll teach ya ta meddle with my cellars an' my fires. An' I jest came in ta say that unless the money's paid now, right now, I'm goin' fer the p'lice. I got a nephew that's on the force, an' I ken get him right now by phone, an' I'll give ya jest five minutes ta fork over that money."

Mrs. Challenger had risen from the davenport and was holding on to the back to steady herself, and now she spoke. There was something in the clear, distressed tones of her cultured voice that commanded attention even from the angry Barkus woman, and she whirled upon her and listened.

"Mrs. Barkus," the quiet voice said, "I told you last night that you should certainly be paid. I fully expected to have the money by this evening but found it was impossible----" Her voice wavered for an instant and trailed off weakly as if she had suddenly remembered something and was stunned by the thought. Then she rallied and steadied herself by a fierce grip on the back of a chair.

"I certainly intend you shall be paid, and that very speedily, but I'm sorry to say that I haven't but ten cents in my purse tonight. Perhaps by tomorrow I shall be able to do something--" She gave a frightened helpless look around the room and toward her girls, who stood white and angry beside her, and tried to summon a faint smile as she turned her sweet eyes back toward the furious landlady.

But Mrs. Barkus was not to be appeased.

"So ya think ya can put that over on me, with all the smell o' cookin' meat going through me house. Not on yer life you can't. That's expensive meat, that is, I can tell by the smell--"

She strode suddenly to the door of the kitchenette and peered in, to the table with its meager spread and the glorious beefsteak steaming in the center.

"Yeah? That's jest what I thought. Best cut o' sirloin steak! Ain't we the swell crooks! Beatin' yar way in my house and eatin' off the fat o' the land! Well, I'll jest carry that steak into my own dinin' room and save myself getting any supper of my own. I'll allow fifty cents off on the kindling wood fer that! And she made as if to sweep aside Melissa and make good her words.

But Bob suddenly planted himself in the doorway with his fists doubled.

"Not on yer life ya don't touch that steak. That's my steak. The butcher gave it ta me for goin' on an errand for him. My mother never spent a cent for it."

The angry woman was big enough and mad enough to make short work of Bob, but Phyllis suddenly stood in front of her and spoke quietly.

"Mrs. Barkus, my mother needs that steak. She hasn't had anything to eat all day but a cup of tea just now, and she must eat or she'll die. If there is anything among our things here that you will accept until we can pay what we owe you, you can have it, I'm sure. Can't she, Mother?"

"Of course!" said the strained voice of the mother.

"Well, all righty! How about that gimcrack of a clock?" asked the landlady, fixing floating eyes on the lovely cuckoo clock, the only really valuable bit of furnishing in the whole sordid room. It was a clock that had been sent to Professor Challenger a short time before his illness by a former student in gratitude for all he had done for him, and it had only escaped being in storage now with all their other household goods because it had been forgotten till after the last load had gone to storage.

Mrs. Challenger did some swift thinking.

"Mrs. Barkus," she said, trying to put strength into her voice, "that is a valuable clock that was given to my husband. I can raise money on that tomorrow and pay you what I owe you in case some money does not come in on the early mail. If you will just kindly withdraw and let us eat our dinner and get some rest, I will undertake to see that you are paid by noon tomorrow."

A cunning look came into the woman's eyes.

"Not much ya won't, ya old crook, ya!" she said. "I'll take the clock right now. Valuable, is it? We'll see. I'll take it ta a friend o' mine that keeps a junk shop an' see what it'll bring meself. I'm not waitin' any longer fer my money. Ya promised it this mornin' an' ya promised it this evenin' an' I've no reason ta believe ya'll pay tamorra, neither. I'll just take the clock now." And she walked over and began to reach up for the clock where it hung on the wall.

And suddenly, as if to protect itself, the little bird in the cunningly carved doorway stepped out and said, "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" eight times right in her face.

The woman stepped back, startled, intrigued by the little bird. Indeed, she had had a great desire to own that same bird ever since she had first heard its little song, and like a child, or a small dog, when something unusual happens, she was for the moment turned aside from her purpose to watch the cuckoo.

Nobody had noticed that Bob disappeared, but now suddenly there occurred a diversion, heavy footsteps on the doorstep, the quick opening and slamming of the front door, and a big figure in a white linen apron loomed in the doorway, though everybody was entirely too much occupied to notice.

Mrs. Challenger had just summoned her strength once more to speak.

"Mrs. Barkus, I couldn't let that clock go out of my possession without a receipt from you that you have it and are holding it until I have paid you my back rent," she was saying, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You see, my husband is very fond of that clock."

"Oh, is he?" mimicked Mrs. Barkus with a sneer. "Well, mebbe he'll be fond enough of it to pay me what he owes me and then some fer the damage his daughter done in my cellar this morning. I'm takin' this here clock right now. See?" And she reached up a strong hand and took firm hold of the clock.

But suddenly a stronger hand reached out and grasped her wrist in such a viselike grip that it became powerless.

The woman turned in fury and faced the big butcher from across the next corner. He lived over his store, and Bob, in his distress, had rushed for his friend, who did not delay to come at once.

"What are you trying to do, Mrs. Barkus?" asked Butcher Brady, looking as severe as his round, good-natured face could. "That ain't your clock, is it?"

"You lemme alone!" snarled Mrs. Barkus, trying her best to get her pudgy wrist away from the big grasp. "Don't ya dare ta lay a finger on me, ur I'll have ya arrested fer salt and battry."

"Look here, lady, I got a lot more on you than you ever could prove against me. I'm merely trying to protect the property of these people, and what's more, there'll be a cop here in about five jerks of a lamb's tail, for I told my wife to call one. If you wantta get this good and straightened out before he comes, all righty. It won't take long. Just you drop your hand down at your side like a lady and tell me what this is all about."