Cheerful—By Request

him, and brothers their sisters. Buzz Werner not only was tough-he looked tough. When he spoke-which was often-his speech slid sinisterly out of the extreme left corner of his mouth. He

a, Wisconsin, was unaware that her son was the town tough guy. But even she sometimes mildly remonstrated with him for being what she called kind of wild. Buzz had yellow hair with a glin

r two minutes' conversation with him. Buzz Werner was called Buzz not only because he talked too much, but because

buz

down in the Flats and selling it to the junk man. How he escaped the reform school is a my

for a hundred years to come. The Kearney girl was a beautiful idiot, with a lovely oval face, and limpid, rather wistful blue eyes, and fair, fine hair, and a long slim neck. She looked very much like those famous wantons of history,

off into the homeward stretch on Outagamie Street there always slunk after her some stoop-shouldered, furtive, loping youth. But he never was seen with her on Grand Avenue. She had often been up before old Judge Colt for some nasty business or other. At such times the shabby office of the Justice of the Peace would be full of shawled mothers and heavy-booted, work-worn fathers, and an aunt or two, and some cousins,

n a fancy to Buzz Werner. It l

f a Saturday night, very moist as to hair and clean as to soft shirt. They would lounge on the corner of Grand and Outagamie, in front of Schroeder's brightly lighted drug store, watching the girls go by. They were, for the most part, a pimply-faced lot. They would shuffle their feet in a slow jig, hands in pockets. When a late come

their girls, flexed their muscles to show their strength. And all through their talk there occurred again and again a certain term whose us

ere to get off at. Nobody can talk to

wn that it was not even

rt in company is often silent in his own home, and Buzz was no exception to this rule. Fortunately, Buzz's braggadocio carried with it a cer

body like you,' I says. 'I'm as good as you are any day, and better. You can have your dir

me is Buzz. One by one they would melt away as their particular girl, after flaunting by with a giggle and a sidelong glanc

fter her, would overtake her in the shadow of

he Fox River Valley. No, the house and the garden, the porch and the cement sidewalk, and the pork roast all had their origin in Ma Werner's tireless energy, in Ma Werner's thrift; in her patience and unremitting toil, her nimble fingers and bent back, her shapeless figure and unbounded and unexpressed (verbally, that is) love for her children. Pa Werner-sullen, lazy, brooding, tyrannical-she soothed and mollified for the children's sake, or shouted down with a shrewish outburst, as the occasion required. An expert stone-mason by trade, Pa Werner could be depended on only when h

tesquely atop her white head, saw Buzz lounging homeward, cutting across lots from Bates Street, his dinner pail glinting in the sun. It was four o'clo

e and plodded heavily through the freshly turned earth to the back porch as Buzz turned in at the wa

r, Ernie? You ain

aw

home so

eel like it,

tered. She looked even more ludicrous in the house than she had outside, with her skirts tucked up to make spading the easier, so that there was displayed an unseemly length of thick ankle rising solid

ur pa'll be awful mad. You know th

his month." Then, at a sudden sound from the

he shade

r followed, with surprising agility for so heavy a woman. She put a hand on his arm. "Such a

thing happened good an' plenty." A little frightened look c

k seemed to slip down over it. "You don't mean H

Hatton when I hit'm. An' anyway nobody his age is gonna tell me where to get off at. Say, w'en a guy who ai

n. She grappled with it, dizzily. "Hit him! Ernie,

tisfaction in Buzz Werner's face or voice as he said it. "Course, I didn't know

trained. The way her hand brought her apron-corner up to her mouth, as though to stifle the fear that shook her

e doin' in the mill?" he turned toward the stair

ece of mechanism. 'Who're you?' I says. 'Never mind who I am' he says, 'I'm working' on this job,' he says, 'an' this is a paper mill you're workin' in,' he says, 'not a boiler factory. Treat the machinery accordin', like a real workman,' he says. The simp! I just stepped down off the platform of the big press, and I says,

an's drawn face. "Oh, Ernie, f'r God'

him. "They won't do anything. I guess old Hatton ain't so stuck on havin' his

Still in the absurd hat she got out a panful of potatoes and began to peel them skilfuly, automatically. The seamed and hardene

d to go back to the Sugar Bowl until nine. Five m

an family of the same class would have considered it a banquet. There were meat and vegetables, butter and home-made bread, preserve and cake, true to the standards of the extravagant American labouring-class household. In

id-stained work shoes had been replaced by his good tan ones. Evidently he was going down town after supper. Buzz never took any exercise for the sake of his body's good. Sometimes he and

r, forever between the stove and the table, ate less. But that was nothing u

your potatoes. Look how

want

aked apple than the raspberry pre

alone. I a

over its rim with wide, malicious eyes. "I saw that Kearney gir

," said Buzz,

gain. I saw her both times. Say, I guess I ough

, shirt and suspenders, was padding about the kitchen with his pipe and tobacco. He came into the sitting room now and stood a moment, his lips twisted a

earney girl and I'll break every bone

will, w

ater pail and sprinkling can sagging from either arm, put in a word to stay the th

red oath, went to the open doorway and stood there, puffing savage little spurts of smoke streetward. The Kearney girl stared

e hangin' around the mill yet, the brass-faced thing. If I hear of it I'll get the foreman

it yo

rch, into the twilight of the warm May evening. Charley Lembke, f

I gues

He turned to go in. Charley's voice came again, clear and far-reaching. "I hear you had a run-in wi

ed to the floor. Pa Werner was at the doo

ning jaw at his father and braze

on in

attempt at a swagger that failed to convince even himself. He leaned against the side of the door

Hatton, an' licked him, and give'm m

on her way to work again, caught the electric current of

s sakes! You two.

quick arm and a deft hand-these last his assets as a workman. The other, gnarled, prematurely wrinkled, almost gnome-like. This

re. Old Man Werner had, perhaps, been something of a tough guy himself, in his youth. As he reviled his son now you saw that son, at fifty, jus

hing in his steady, unruffled gaze caused the other man to falter a little in his tirade, and finally to stop, almost apprehensively. He had paid no heed to Ma Werner's attempts at pacification. "Now, Pa!" sh

ou through?

ut of here. You'll be hung yet, you loafer. A go

he table, and-with this emblem of insouciance, at an angle of ninety, between his teeth-strolled indolently, nonchalantly down the front steps, along the cement walk to the street and so toward town. The two old people, left alone in the sudden silence of th

s just a little wild. He looked so kind of funny

r his pa, or ma, or nothing. Down on the corner with the rest of 'em,

repeated, "I don'no, he looked so

evenly and disconnectedly. On the surface he was cool and unruffled. He stopped for a moment at the railroad tracks to talk with Stumpy Gans, the one-legged gateman. The little bell above Stumpy's shanty was ringing its warning, so he strolled leisurely over to the depot platform to see the 7:15 come in from Chicago. When the train pulled out

t out of his mind and slammed th

the Agassiz School stepped the Kearney girl, lik

breath. Then he laughed, shortly. "Might

rm and linked it with the other.

thing. You quit traipsing up and

dn't know whether you was comi

pulled away from her, but she tw

at me, are

eggo m

at little wart of a Donahue-" She turned wise eyes u

care who yo

ords were soft but there was

N

you go on to Grand, and hang around for an hour, maybe, and I'll meet

't to-night

cut. "Buzz, if you turn

U

s. He'll believe it. Say, he knows me

"Me? You must be crazy. I ain't had any

You can't prove it. I told you I

corner. There was his crowd-Spider, and Red, and Bing, and Casey. They took him literally unto their breasts. They thumped him on the back. They bestowed on him the low epithets wit

hen I heard it. He must of looked a sight, the poor boob. Go on, Buzz, tell 'em ho

entranced, interrupting him with an occasional "Je's!" of awed admiration. But the thing seemed to lack a

e you was goi

ever see

hanst to put up his dukes," he said at last. A littl

m. I bet he's over six foot. The papers was always tell

or this here draft. He's goin' to Fort Sheridan,

t it all their own way," Spid

t. Grand Avenue, none too crowded on this mid-week night, pressed to the curb to see. Down the street they stared towa

"I hear they're leavi

and exhibition drills to turkey raffles. Chippewa had never taken Company G very seriously until now. How could it, when Company G was made up of Willie Kemp, who clerked in

y these every-day men and boys were transformed into something remote and

-thud. Looking

said Spider, and

wn the street-vanished.

the street-corner group.

draft. I got a mother an' t

lot of suppo

don't! I c

right," said Casey

er age,"

But Spider had reason to know that no examining board would pass him into the army of his country. And it was a rea

t I wouldn't mind goin'. Anything fo

u better be a hero

ith a jerk. "Je's, I

zz, to save your country an' your flag. Enlistment office's right over

g. But he only threw his cigarette into the gutter, yawned elaborately, and moved away. "S'long," he said; and lounged off. The others

bunch won't git him for this, anyway," Casey sa

eh

ey would have seen him stand a moment, sending a quick glance this way and that, then turn, retrace his steps almost at

ow, his chair tipped back, his feet on the sill, a pipe between

lace where

The chair in front of the ope

e first man. "W

tol

He's a Canadian. Been

pillar. Unconsciously his sagging shoulders had straightened. His stomach was he

erved Sergeant Keith, "and he'll do in

an, a couple? I can lick a whole regiment of them beerheads with one hand tied behind me an' my f

your shirt on, kid," he said, "and remember, this

. "When-when do I go?" For he had signed his

listen to thes

row?" gas

rd home. To-morrow! When the Kearney girl again stepped out of th

to give me the slip,

nd where

. At that Buzz turned and stopped. It was too dark to see his face, but something in his voice-somethi

my mind to-night and I can't be bothered with n

didn't mean what I said about havin'

are what y

to-morrow night?

morrow night I'll meet y

But she was after him. "W

to war, tha

. Then, at his silence: "You didn't

ure

you

morr

" sneered Miss Kearney; "wha

aid Buzz, dull

augh came back to him through the darkness. It might have been called a scornful

as unbuttoned and highly negligée as one of those group pictures you see of the Robert Louis Stevenson family. Pa, s

he made woke his father, as he had meant that it should. There came a muttered growl from the

e bothered with me much longer." Ma W

ou done

lis

ted-fo

r; what do

that, heavily. "

of the old country, and soldier service there,

eh

you

morr

rner gaspe

en-mouthed dumbfoundedness of the old man, and the sudden tender fearfulness in the face of the girl; and because, in that moment, all these seemed ver

Huh? Stick around here and take dirt fr

s best shirt and trousers, his mother, only half understanding even now, standing over him with the coffee pot; the next he was standing with his

fight th

rsely: "Ya-a-as you

baggage-smasher, you! I'm go

rk. "Well, then, I guess it's as good as ove

I will. W

more than h

. He was pretty sure it was France. A line from his Fourth Grade geography came back t

t sounded

here. They would require the space of what the publishers call a 12-mo volume. Buzz

ft him cowering, terrified. The noise, the rush, the glitter, the grimness, the vastness, were like blows upon hi

t if they clapped you into the guard-house for saying it. There was little point to throwing down your shovel and refusing to shovel coal if they clapped you into the guard house for doing it; and made you shovel harder than ever when you came out. He learned what it was to rise at dawn and go thud-thud-thudding down a dirt road for endless weary miles. He became an olive-drab unit in an olive-drab village. He learned what it was to wake up in the morning so sore and lame that he felt as if he had been pulled apart, limb

gs, arms, neck, were no longer parts of him, but horrid useless burdens, detached, yet clinging. He learned what this person meant when he shouted (always with the rising inflection), "Comp'ny! Right! Whup!" Buzz whupped with the best of 'em. The whipper-snappe

not of much interest, here. There were boys from every part of the great country. And they talked of the places whence they had come and speculated about the places to which they were going. And Buzz listened and learned. There was strangely little talk about girl

a few words from me. Well I like it in the army it is the

g it around the neighbourhood, and she re

e day, after three months of camp life, the man in the next cot had thrown him a volume of Kipling. Buzz fingered it, disinterestedly. Until that moment Kipling

for the good of the army. He never saw them again. He was sent straight to a New York camp. When he beheld his new lieutenant his limbs became fluid, and his heart leaped into his

him with his eye, and then came over to

one great gulp his heart slid back into normal place. He had no

ed this man down than he thought of knocking him down again. He wo

the steps and rang the bell. They must have been waiting for him. The door was opened by a large amiable-looking, middle-aged man who said, "Well, well! Come in, come in, my boy!" a great deal as the folks in Chippewa, Wisconsin, might have said it. The stout old party also said he was glad to see him and Buzz believed it. They went upstairs, much to Buzz's surprise. In Buzz's experience upstairs always meant bedrooms. But in this case it meant a great bright sitting room, with books in it, and a fireplace, very cheerful. There were not a lot of people in the room. Just a middle-aged woman in a soft kind of dress, who came to him without any fuss and the first thing he knew he felt acquainted. Wi

he found himself talking to her quite easil

gely appealing person belonged to some sort of Motor Service League, and drove an automobile, every day, from eight to six, up and down and r

n to dinner. Buzz got panicky when he thought of the knives and forks, but that turned out all right, too, because they brought these as you needed them. And besides, the things they gave you to eat weren't much different from the things you had for Sunday or Thanksgiving dinner at home, and it was cooked the way his mother woul

ound the city and see New York? Or would you like to go to a matinée, or a picture show?

d kind of rather stay and talk with the girls." B

ertly about with Joyce Ladd of Madison Avenue, and found himself seated in a great cushioned window-seat, talking with her about Kipling. It was like talking to another fellow, almost, only it had a thrill in it. She said such comic things. And when she laughed she threw back her head and your eyes were dazzled by her slender white throat. They a

ater he sail

poleon's tomb, that glorious white marble poem. Buzz Werner in t

e, fond of dancing and light wines," he'd like to know where it came in! Nothing but drill and mud, mud and drill, and rain, rain, rain! And old women with

Buzz learned to keep his down now, quickly enough. A first terrifying stretch of this, then back to the rear again. More mud and drill. Marches so long and arduous that walking was no longer walking but a dreadful mechanical motion.

voice somehow like his own. The German trench reached. At them with his bayonet! He remembered, automatically, how his manual had taught him to jerk out the steel, after you had driven it h

d his grappling hold of Hatton's throat, and grunted, and sat down. And Buzz laughed. And the two went on, Buzz behind his lieut

in do a double shuffle on S

tal nights. A wheel

e you laugh. Ringing that bell, just like always, as if nothing had happened in the last year! Buzz leaned against the window, to see. There was some commotion in the train and some one spoke his name. Buzz turned, and there stood Old Man Hatton, and a lot of others, and he seemed to be making a speech, and kind of crying, though that couldn't be possible. And his father was there, very clean and shaved and queer. Buzz caught words about bravery, and Chippewa's pride, and he was fussed to de

n to him. He was in Hatton's glittering automobile, being driven down Grand Avenue. There were speeches, and a dinner, and, later, when he was allowed to go home, rather white, a ste

o joke. And then there was a talk with old Man Hatton; a t

ain, all th

r for the garden, against hi

!" she said, "you ca

ings and uniform very spick and span from Ma Werner's expert brushing and rubbing. She refuse

ug store, stood what was left of the gang, and some new members

ey eyed his leg, and his uniform, and the metal and ribbon thing that

n, Buzz, give us your spiel about h

red Buzz, very quietly. But t

was a hero. Say, is that right that old Hatt

he others, "go on

l us about the fightin', B

hes, as he plodded the muddy French roads, as he reclined in his wheel chair in the hospital garden. He had t

Buzz," t

choice. "There's nothin' to tell. A guy didn't have no time to be scairt. Everything kind of come

thing more. "Ye

about him fell back, respectfully. Something i

e said. And limpe

vanished forever. And in his place-head high, c