THRILLS OF A BELL BOY

THRILLS OF A

BELL BOY

By

Samuel Ellsworth Kiser

Author of “Love Sonnets of an Office Boy,”

“Ballads of the Busy Days,” etc.

Illustrated by

John T. McCutcheon

Chicago

Forbes & Company

1906

Copyright, 1904

By the Saturday Evening Post

Copyright, 1906

By Forbes & Company

Colonial Press: Electrotyped and Printed

by C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U. S. A.

THRILLS OF A

BELL BOY

I.

GEE! There’s a call from seven-forty-eight—

That’s Miss Le Claire; she wants some ice, I’ll bet;

She stars in “Mrs. Middleton’s Regret.”

And when you mention peaches—say, she’s great!

If I could marry her I guess I’d hate

To have to do it—nit! I’d go and get

A plug hat and a fur-trimmed coat and let

The guy that’s managin’ her, pay the freight.

They say she gets a hundred dollars per;

I’d like to draw that much a year or two.

They’d know I’d been around when I got through.

I wish the dude that comes here after her

Was in my place and me in his—I’d stir

Things up around this town. I wouldn’t do

A thing but buy her everything I knew

She didn’t have but might be wishin’ fer.

She rung fer me to get some stamps, and when

I took them up she says, “Just wait a bit.”

She put one on a note and handed it

To me to mail—and he come in just then

And grabbed the thing—I’ve heard of crazy men,

And I know when it’s up to me to quit:

She had him goin’ groggy when I lit,

But, blame the luck, they’ve made it up again.

II.

IF I could have my choice I wouldn’t be

The main guy of a kingdom—nix fer me.

I’d only wish that I could be as great

As one of these gay boys from up the State

Imagines that we think he is when he

Tilts back his hat and lights his cigarette

And does the pouter-pigeon act; I’d let

Them have their thrones if I could be as grand

As these boys think they are when they “run down”

On business trips and let their chests expand

And act as though they’d come to buy the town.

The minute one of them gets in he shies

Around the telegraph girl, makin’ eyes

And wantin’ to know what it costs to send

Ten words to Saugatuck or Brady’s Bend,

Or dictates to the shorthand girl and tries

To make her think he’s Mike from Up-the-Crick—

It’s easy work to spot these Johnnies quick:

They try to mash the chambermaids up-stairs,

And buzz the news-stand lady, and I s’pose

They think that we all think they’re millionaires—

Hello! There that sweet little actress goes.

III.

I WENT to see the show last night, the one

She’s playing in, you know, but all the fun

I thought I’d have was spoiled, confound the luck,

I bought a forty-cent bouquet to chuck

Down at her when the second act was done.

I got a seat in front, all right, and, oh!

How grand she looked away down there below!

I thought of angels every time she’d look

Up at the gallery—but when I let

My flowers tumble down the villain took

And give them to the putty-faced soubrette!

I wish I was the hero of the play

She’s actin’ in and had the chance to lay

Her head agin my buzzom every night

And knock the villain down and hold her tight—

I wouldn’t ask to have a cent of pay.

And when she’d look up at me sweet and proud

I’d feel so glad I’d have to yell out loud:

I’ll bet the knock I give the villain when

I come to rescue her would make him grunt.

And when she wound her arms around me, then—

Oh, blame it, there’s Old Morton howlin’ “Front!”

IV.

I DON’T feel like I used to feel no more;

It seems as though I’d like to go away

From where the racket’s goin’ on all day,

And have her with me there, and she’d be sore

At that rich dude who meets her at the door

Back by the stage when she’s got through the play:

I wish that she’d get sweet on me and say

She never knew what lovin’ was before.

I’ve got a tooth-brush now, and every night

I wash my neck and ears: I don’t intend

To chew tobacco any more, nor spend

My change fer cigarettes; her teeth are white,

And if she seen that mine were, too, she might

Be liable to love me. Every time

She looks at me it kind of seems that I’m

All full of something tickel-ish and light.

I’d like it if I knew some way to make

My ears stay closer to my head and not

Stick out the way they do, as though they’d got

Unfastened and hung loose. I wish I’d wake

To-morrow so good-lookin’ it would break

Her heart unless I’d take her on the spot;

And I could lick that dude if he got hot

And made rough house when she’d give him the shake.

If I could go away with her to where

There wasn’t anybody else at all,

And we could set around all day or loll

Beside the cricks and never have to care

When bells would ring, and all around us there

The posies would be growin’ sweet and tall,

I’d never mind if it was spring or fall—

But still I s’pose she couldn’t live on air.

V.

I THINK I’ll chuck this job and go and try

To be a supe with her, and by and by

Get speakin’ parts to play, and then—who knows?—

Be leadin’ man, at last, and wear dude clo’s.

I’d drink champagne whenever I was dry,

And have a chance to travel up and down

Around the country, seein’ every town,

And after every act they’d call fer me;

All week I’d only work two afternoons,

And nearly everywhere I went I’d see

My picture in the windows of saloons.

I’d have a stage name that was grand to hear—

I think I’d make it Reginald De Vere—

Gee! Wouldn’t that loom up great on the bills?

They’d never know they cheered fer Eddie Mills

When I would get the signal to appear.

I’d give her all the beautiful bouquets

The girls would send to me at matinées,

And when the show was over crowds would stand

Outside to watch fer me and her and stare

When we come out, and I would take her hand

And lead her to our carriage, waitin’ there.

VI.

I WENT up-stairs, this morning, when she rung—

I guess she must of just got out of bed—

It seemed to me her nose looked kind of red;

They was a little wad of hair that hung

Down in a pigtail on her back; she brung

A telegram out to the door, and said:

“Well, get a move—good Heavens, are you dead?”

Somehow she didn’t seem to look so young.

I can’t help kind of wonderin’ to-day

What made her look so queer; it seems as though

There’s something that is gone. I’d like to know

If all the ones that’s beautiful when they

Get on their riggin’ and are fixed up gay

Ain’t much but framework when they’ve gone at night

And safely locked themselves in out of sight

And laid what ain’t growed on to them away.

When me and Mike, the porter, were alone

I got to tellin’ him about my thoughts—

Mike’s had two wives, and so, of course, knows lots.

He told me in a kind of sollum tone:

“Me boy, a woman cr-rathure’s like a shtone—

At laste some women ar-re—Whin dr-ressed they’re foine,

But whin they ain’t ye’ll ha-ardly see a soign

Av beauty that ye’d ta-ake to be their own.”

VII.

IT’S all off now. She’s gone out West somewhere—

The papers say to South Dakota—there

She’s got things fixed to get divorced, they claim.

It seems that Mrs. Pickleham’s her name

In private life, instead of Miss Le Claire.

Her father runs a dray in Buffalo,

That’s what the papers say: I s’pose they know.

I wonder why it always has to be

That everything you think is great before

You know about it, when you get to see

Just how it is don’t seem so grand no more?

I wish I had the forty cents I blew

To get the bunch of posies what I threw

At her that night. I had to gasp almost

Whenever she’d look up. Gee! What a roast

The boys would give me fer it if they knew.

But still there ain’t no use of feelin’ bad;

I got my money’s worth, fer I was glad,

And every minute that you’re feelin’ gay

About a thing that never can come true

Is something that’ll not get took away;

It’s in your system and belongs to you.

VIII.

THEY’VE give us a new operator here

To take the telegrams; she’s pretty near

A daisy, too. Her eyes are big and brown;

And when she sets there kind of lookin’ down,

As though she didn’t notice things, it’s queer

The way I get to wishin’ I could go

And save her from the clutches of some foe.

She makes me feel as though I’d like to be

A handsome man, about six foot, and strong,

To take her in my arms and let her see

That I was here protectin’ her from wrong.

The other day I talked to her a while:

It seemed as though whenever she would smile

I’d have a goneish feelin’ in my breast.

She’d be a peach, no matter how she dressed,

She’s got the other girls here beat a mile.

The red that’s on her cheeks ain’t painted there,

And she ain’t wearin’ no dead woman’s hair:

I don’t blame homely women if they try

To make themselves look fine, fer good looks pay—

But hers is not the kind that they can buy—

The beauty that she’s got grew there to stay.

IX.

ONCE, when her instrument was workin’ bad

She jerked the thing and hit it with her fist

And nearly broke her round, soft little wrist—

I never s’posed that she could get so mad.

When I told ma it seemed to make her glad.

She says a girl that looks as nice as pie

Sometimes has awful thoughts: I wonder why

Ma’s always knockin’ so? It makes me sad.

X.

SOME people make me sick. They act as though

They’d leased this hemisphere. See that boy there,

The way he tilts his head up in the air

And struts around so everybody’ll know

He’s cut his second teeth. Now watch him go

And ask about the telegrams. I’ll bet

Nobody ever telegraphed him yet,

Or if they did it’s comin’ mighty slow.

When she was operatin’ yesterday

He leaned against the railin’, lookin’ wise

And spoilin’ blanks and makin’ goo-goo eyes.

I wish he’d pay his bill and go away,

Or that she’d slap his face for gettin’ gay.

When fellows hang around a girl to buzz

Her hours at a time the way he does

I wonder how they think of things to say?

Mike says he never seen a woman yet

That hated men fer showin’ them they’d like

To take them in their lovin’ arms and hike

Away to where nobody else could get.

Mike says it doesn’t seem to make them fret

When men get gone on them—I guess I’ll strike

Out bold, because it must be so, fer Mike

He’s had two wives, and knows a lot, you bet.

There goes that dude again, confound the luck!

I wish he’d get a telegram that said

Some chap was comin’ here to punch his head,

And he’d fergit how sweet she was, and duck:

Mike says that when a fellow shows he’s struck

A woman hardly ever raises Ned

Or seems to get to wishin’ she was dead—

Gee whiz! he’s went and give her chin a chuck.

XI.

THE Johnny’s went away that got so brash;

I let his blamed old satchel fall and smash

When him and me was goin’ out the door;

His razor and his brush rolled on the floor,

Mixed with his nightshirt and some other trash.

He’d just smiled back at her and raised his lid;

I’d hate to get let down the way he did:

She laughed, and all the rest let out a whoop—

I never seen a guy so mad before;

He got his things together with a swoop—

I guess he’ll never be our guest no more.

I s’pose I lost a tip, but I don’t care,

I’d rather have the chance fer gettin’ square;

What good is havin’ money, anyway,

If havin’ it don’t keep you feelin’ gay

Nor make you push your chest out in the air?

I snuck away, out by the barber shop,

And laughed so hard I couldn’t seem to stop:

Mike says that every laugh you ever laugh

Is something that you’re richer fer, and so

I gained about eight dollars and a half—

They called me down and nearly bounced me, though.

XII.

IF I would get to be a millionaire

And didn’t have to work or anything,