Skippy Bedelle Part 43

"Sure they are!"

"Genuine, bona-fide, patent applied for, no imitations, only original ten commandments?"

"Keerect."

"Well do you know there isn't a thing in them about cigarettes, or booze or penny-ante. Not a word!"

"Honest?"

"Read 'em yourself," said Skippy indignantly. "It's all about being nice to your neighbor and sitting still on Sunday."

"No!"

"Fact!" said Skippy, whose real irritation was caused by the fact that the ten commandments did not afford him any suggestion in his new predicament.

Suddenly Snorky slapped his shoulder with a resounding whack.

"I'm on."

"Ouch! On to what?"

"Own up! I'm in the same box too," said Snorky with a smirk.

"You mean?"

"Sure, Margarita's trying the reform racket on me too!"

"Oh, she is?" said Skippy, who did not like sharing the honors of a stellar role.

"Yep, and you must have been laying it on strong for Margarita's been asking all sorts of questions about you."

"Snorky, go the limit--make it strong and stronger," said Skippy, brightening up.

"Honest?"

"The limit!"

"I get you."

Skippy took a few steps towards the door and reflected.

"When I say the limit--" he said doubtfully.

"Leave it to me."

"There are some things though."

"Don't worry--trust me."

"Well, however, I say,--don't get rash."

"Keep on trusting me," said Snorky with an airy wave of his hand.

Something in the repet.i.tion struck Skippy where he was the weakest, in that wholesouled faith which should sanctify the friendship of a lifetime. The more he considered it the less he liked it.

"I have made a mistake," he said frowning. "Snorky has no sense of discretion."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR

MISS JENNIE TUPPER at the end of a week acknowledged to herself with an uneasy sense of her own shortcomings that the task of keeping Mr. Skippy Bedelle in the straight and narrow path was one beyond her limited experience. It was not that she had lost confidence in her own efficiency, but that she anxiously asked herself if she could afford the time and the effort. Skippy was all for the better life and yielded at once to her suggestions. The trouble was in his staying put, as it is colloquially expressed. Each evening the cure was complete, but each morning the conversation had to begin all over. The hold that his past life had taken upon him was simply staggering and the hankering for the excitement of the gambling table or the struggle against the narcotic tyranny of the demon cigarette was such that at times she had to sit long moments holding his storm-racked and shaking hand while he fought bravely against the maddening appet.i.te! And after a week of the closest personal attention he had only cut down the allowance of cigarettes to seven a day!

Now Miss Tupper was upright and G.o.d-fearing and self-respecting, and though there was a difference of three years all in her favor, she, unlike some of her s.e.x, scorned the use of her personal attractions, simply for the sake of a personal vanity, nor was she a collector of male scalps. She was in a moral quandary of the most metaphysical complexity. What should she do: shirk her evident moral responsibility and allow a bravely battling human soul to sink into iniquity or continue and permit a most susceptible youngster to immerse himself deeper and deeper into a hopeless pa.s.sion?

Each day she came to the task of regenerating Mr. Skippy Bedelle resolved to conduct the proceedings on the grounds of the strictest formality, and each evening she admitted to herself the failure. Yet could she honestly blame herself? She gave him her female sewing-society pin to wear not as a personal token but solely as a daily reminder of the promises he had made to himself. She gave him a tie, a colored handkerchief and the sweater she had just finished for another destination. But each was given as a reward and marked a triumphant progress in his fight to acquire a final mastery over himself. When, however, Skippy brought up the question of a photograph, a crisis was reached.

"I have never never given my picture to any man," she said firmly, and the absence of sibilants made it doubly impressive. "And I never never will. Bethideth, you know I would have to tell my mother."

They were sitting in the summer house at that romantic hour when the first day stars arrive with the mosquitoes. It was always at such moments that the craving was strongest. She had begun by holding his wrist in a strong encircling clasp but the sight of his twitching contorted fingers had been too much for her sensibilities and her hand had slipped into a more intimate clasp.

"After all he's only a boy," she had said to herself.

"Jennie! how can you--don't you--do you realize all I'm doing--just for you?" said Skippy, whose voice at such moments was not under control.

"No, no, you ought to do it for yourself, becauth it ith the right thing to do, becauth it will make you feel stwonger and finer."

"Nope, it's you or nothing."

"Jack, you muthn't thay thuch thingth. I muthn't let you!"

"It is the first time I've ever cared what became of me," said Skippy lugubriously. "You don't know what that pin means to me."

"But--"

"Do you realize what I'm going back to? Old a.s.sociations, old habits and a long, long, fight! And then there's Snorky. I've got to save him too."

"But Jack--"

"I'm not asking for anything more than just your picture, nothing more,--nothing that commits you to anything! But I do want that, I must have that! I want to rise up every morning and remember and, and I want to come back every night and know that I can face your eyes," said Skippy warming up. "I say it must be a full face, not a profile, you know."

"I haven't thaid I would," said Miss Jennie in dreadful perplexity.

"But you will."