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Updated: June 6, 2025
Kukor brought out Johnnie's square of mattress, dropped it beside the morris chair, and laid the half-conscious boy upon it. Then kneeling beside him, one at each side, they began to rub the life back into his numbed limbs. "He's breathin', girl dear," the priest told Cis, who could not bring herself to look at Johnnie. Mrs. Kukor said not a word.
"Y' think y're pretty smart, don't y'?" he demanded, head out of the window again; "helpin' this kid t' neglect his work!" "I pay you always, Mister Barber," she answered, "if so he makes his work oder not!" "Yes, and he knows it, Mrs. Kukor!" Cis called out. "Don't you ever set foot in this here flat again!" ordered Big Tom. "That's right!" retorted Cis, as fearless as ever.
To-morrow, sooner you wass finish mit your work, he comes down again by the basket." "Oh, but I can hide it!" urged Johnnie, illustrating his argument at the same time. "And, oh, gee, Mrs. Kukor! I'm the luckiest kid in N'York!" "Supper," pronounced Mrs. Kukor, seeing that the book was indeed well hidden and would bring no fresh troubles upon that yellow head that day. And it did not.
He spent nearly the whole of the next day most contentedly with Robinson Crusoe. It was ironing day, but when he had finished the small pieces, Mrs. Kukor took the rest upstairs. Then Johnnie, dressed from head to toe in peltry, moored at his elbow that lonely isle.
Now Johnnie felt he could properly show interest in things outside the morning's trouble. "What, Mrs. Kukor?" he wanted to know. "Is it is it noodle soup?" And now both burst out laughing, for it was always a great joke between them, his liking for her noodle soup. Old Grandpa laughed loudest of all, circling them, and pounding the floor with his cane. "What say?" he demanded. "What say?"
Johnnie had wanted to say something about the ring, and the engagement something to the effect that he was happy over the news, only Mr. Instead, the Handbook took up the whole of the hour. A mysterious signal on the sink pipe brought all of the books down to them, descending in the basket as if out of the sky. Mrs. Kukor had to be thanked then, from the window, after which Mr.
One night Cis and he, bent over the lip of the window, she upholstered on a certain excelsior-filled pillow which was very dear to her, and he padded by Big Tom's cast-offs, had attempted to realize what Mrs. Kukor had said. "On and on and on and on," they had murmured. Until finally just the trying to comprehend it had become overpowering, terrible.
"Oh, I don't like it that my Mama should live down here," she declared. "She can live swell in the Bronx with Jake and me." Now Johnnie stared miserably. For her words were like a sickening blow. What if Mrs. Kukor were to leave? What would he do without her? "I like I should live always by mine own place," asserted Mrs. Kukor. And to Johnnie, as she plucked a bit of Mrs.
Kukor, who had been waiting all the while in the hall, and could stand it no longer, now came rocking in, her olive face picked out with dimples, it was working so hard, and all her crinkly hair standing bushily up. "Is that you, Mother?" cried old Grandpa. "Is that you?" which misled One-Eye into the belief that here was another member of the family, one whom Johnnie had omitted to mention.
Kukor vowed that she dass-ent to deny how everytink about it wass both stylish und grand! Next, he had to hear what had transpired after his departure; how every one had taken his going, especially Big Tom now gone out to escort One-Eye to the taxi. "I tells to him, 'Sure does Chonnie go for sometink'," declared Mrs. Kukor. But Barber had known better, and contradicted her violently.
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