“The ol’ man put the flowers on the steps, then like ter o’ broke his neck climbin’ down ’em. I waited an’ I waited. Then he comes back, an’ if he don’t go an’ pick up them flowers, keepin’ them fer hisself. But wot I seed was he fergitted an’ lef’ the key in the door. So I jist let meself in, an’ lighted me candle. Liked wot I seed. Couldn’t b’lieve my eyes, but seed a bunch o’ keys hangin’ on the wall, an’ one were jist like the big one in the door. Then I figgered as how a ol’ man wot fergits a key in a lock, likely’s fergitted one he had hangin’ on the wall. So I helps myself ter it. An’ here we is.”
“You telled it good, Duck,” Mouse said. “But you never telled wot you telled us ’bout the Landlord.”
“Landlord?” asked Robin, landlords as of that very morning being greatly on his mind.
“Tell it!” said Spider and Piggy.
“Aw,” said Duck, “it’s jist when I thought as how I’d like fer us ter be movin’ in here, I ought ter be askin’ a landlord. Then it come ter me as how the Landlord o’ this here place’d be Him wot were ’bove me. Telled Him how good we’d be if He made it so’s we c’d come live here. Which says why were sittin’ roun’ a table proper ’stead o’ jist sittin’ any ol’ place an’ shovin’ in the food like we all done when we was livin’ under the pier.”
“We all aim ter be havin’ a warsh at the sink too,” said Mouse. “Outside it ain’t noticed much, but inside we probable smell bad as cabbage cookin’.”
“Anyways,” said Duck. “Maybe it’s why we never got a mind ter turn you out when you showed up. It … it ain’t wot the Landlord would o’ done.”
“Aw, c’mon, Duck, you know as how we wanted ter do it,” said Piggy. “We wouldn’t o’ turned ’im out with Danny anyways. But now it looks like we got way off from wot we was talkin’ ’bout, an’ that’s how it’s me wots goin’ ter take care o’ Danny whilst you goes out, Robin.”
“Are you certain, Piggy?” Robin asked.
“I ain’t never wanted ter go back beggin’,” Piggy said. “Now I don’t got ter do it. My job’s takin’ care o’ yer Danny. Yers is earnin’.”
“But what can I do?” asked Robin. “None of you think I’d be much good at selling newspapers. Could … could I do shoe shining?”
“Don’t see why not,” said Duck. “It ain’t so easy’s sellin’ papers, but ain’t so dangerous neither. You c’n take a bit o’ yer money ter buy yer box an’ brushes. An’ oncet you git ’em, you don’t never need ter git ’em agin.”
“How will I learn what to do?” asked Robin.
“Come roun’ with one o’ us,” said Mouse. “We’ll see you learn good an’ proper.”
Piggy grinned. “You’ll be the pa goin’ out ter make money. I’ll be the ma stayin’ home ter look after the baby. Ain’t that somethin’?”
“It’s somethin’, all right,” said Duck. “But we got ter git goin’, an’ you got ter be gittin’ out fer Danny’s milk, Robin. The ol’ man’ll probable be here when you git back, an’ have the lamp on in the hallway, so sneak in real careful.”
“I will,” said Robin. “And you might as well know I am going to get the other food. I’ll be making all the money back in a hurry. You’ll see.” Then he added proudly, “I’m going to be a shoe-shine boy with the rest of you now!”
“The Serciety o’ Shoe-shine Boys o’ St. Somethin’,” said Spider. “Now that’s somethin’ else, ain’t it?”
“Is that really the name of this church?” Robin asked. “St. Something?”
“Nah!” said Duck. “We don’t know wot it is, none o’ us bein’ able ter read the sign wot’s in front. But most o’ the churches wot we know ’bout’s called St. Somethin’ or other. So we jist calls this one St. Somethin’.”
St. Something! Well, it could have been St. Anything for all Robin cared. What difference did the name make? He had found a home for himself and Danny. He had found friends. He was even going into business for himself as a member of the Society of Shoeshine Boys of St. Something. And Hawker Doak’s “scrawny little weasel” had done this all in the space of only a few hours. It was, as Spider would have said, “somethin’ else”!
Chapter IX
A Disappointing
Discovery
That night, courtesy of a trip by Spider to a dump, a fifth place setting appeared on their “table.” The plate was, if possible, more chipped than the others, and the cup was missing a handle entirely. But who was there who noted these things? Certainly not Robin. For courtesy of himself, the boys were enjoying the feast of their lives!
There was more sausage, with some to spare, and bread actually bought fresh rather than from the stall of the stale-bread lady. There was a grand wedge of cheese, some sweet biscuits, and an apple each, with hardly enough worm holes to raise a single eyebrow. There was even a pound of tea leaves, for tea to be made on the gas burner down the hall, served with a liberal pouring of sugar from a paper sack, and then stirred with the only utensil available, the black, bent knife. And, of course, there was fresh milk for Danny.
Emboldened by
