1D Semiconducting Hybrid Nanostructures Arvind Kumardownload
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1D Semiconducting Hybrid Nanostructures
1D Semiconducting Hybrid Nanostructures
Contents
Preface xiii
Index 337
xiii
Preface
In recent years, the progress in the gas‐sensing and optoelectronic fields has swiftly
escalated because of their exceeding utilization in applications having high techno-
logical throughputs. Avant‐garde gas sensors are now commercially available as a
result of emerging electronic technologies backed up by novel and innovative ideas,
which do not only offer superior advancements like increased portability and size
miniaturization but also feed on minimized power while offering prolonged dura-
bility. In such a case, one‐dimensional (1D) semiconducting nanostructures, such as
nanowires, nanopillars, and nanorods, have shown promising potential for scien-
tific and technological fields in many ways. These structures offer several unique
advantages, such as high specific surface area, smaller diameter, efficient charge
transport, and excellent light trapping capability. It also explores the functional
optoelectronic features that emerged at the interface when 1D semiconducting
nanostructures were coupled with other low‐dimensional materials. The topics dis-
cussed in the book are critical to a wide spectrum of modern and new nanotech-
nologies used or to be used in most industries, academics, healthcare, food, the
environment, energy, and research institutes, and thus have a significant impact on
our society. This book primarily focuses on providing breakthrough research devel-
opments and trends in a variety of 1D hybrid nanostructures for chemiresistive gas‐
sensing and optoelectronics applications. Further, it highlights the applicability of
the developed sensors using 1D hybrid nanostructures in a wide range of modern
nanotools and nanodevices deployed in the electronic, healthcare, biomolecules
detection, food, pharmaceutical, and medical industries that have a significant
impact on our society.
The field of gas sensors and optoelectronic devices is indeed experiencing fast and
consistent growth. There is an incredibly wide range of materials, and almost all
known materials, including metal oxides, polymers, dichalcogenides, and ferrites,
can be utilized in designing gas sensors and optoelectronic devices. However, the
desired application‐oriented selection of these materials is a challenging and multi-
variate task. While taking this situation into account, a comprehensive analysis of
the available sensing materials with respect to their design and development strate-
gies that are compatible with modern semiconductor fabrication technology has
been concluded in this book. Besides, superior and/or additional electronic,
mechanical, electrical, and thermal properties offered by these 1D hybrid
xiv Preface
1.1 Introduction
The study and manipulation of matter on the nanoscopic scale is known as nano-
technology. It involves nanoparticles within the size range of 100 nm [1]. The nano-
material comprises two-dimensional (2D) nanofilms, one-dimensional (1D)
nanowires (NWs), and zero-dimensional (0D) nanoparticles [1]. It is widely
acknowledged that 1D nanomaterials are quintessential method for investigating a
wide range of unique systems at the nanoscale as well as to study the size and
dimensional dependency of their functional properties [2]. They are expected to
play a key role as both interconnect and fundamental components in nanoscale,
optoelectronic, electrochemical, and electromechanical devices. 1D semiconductor
nanostructures can be systematically and consistently manufactured in a single-
crystalline form with precise control over their chemical composition, diameter,
length, and doping level [3, 4]. Nanostructures have made it possible to develop a
wide range of prototype devices and integration methodologies [5].
Hybrid nanostructures are made up of at least two unique elements, both of
which have as minimum as 1D nanometer scale [6]. Hybrid nanostructures have the
ability to combine the benefits of distinct components while overcoming their flaws,
resulting in increased efficiency in certain applications or possibly the generation of
unique characteristics and/or functions [7]. The shape, crystalline form, exposed
facet, spatial organization, component distribution, and interface between compo-
nents all contribute to the features and functionality of a hybrid nanostructure
[8, 9]. As a result, coherent design and controlled manufacturing of hybrid nano-
structures are vital for optimizing material performance in specialized applications
as well as improving our knowledge of key framework interactions [10].
In general, there are two types of synthetic approaches for constructing 1D nano-
structures: top-down and bottom-up. The top-down technique necessitates
Table 1.1 1D hybrid nanostructures, types, method of synthesis, analyte gas molecules,
and detection limit.
Analyte Detection
Methods of syntheses 1D nanostructures type gas limit References
interactions. The notion of vacuum evaporation is used in this process, in which hot
molecules and atomic rays collide directly with a hot substrate under ultrahigh vac-
uum conditions [30, 31]. The MBE process has the benefit of operating at a lower
temperature than vapor-phase epitaxy. The MSA method excels in producing nano-
particles in the 1–100 nm range [32]. Critical characteristics like distinct geometry
and precise interactions between the basic units must be taken into account when
creating complex nanostructures utilizing the MSA method. MSA is a noncovalent
binding process in which atoms and molecules assemble in a stable and distinct
nanophase [33]. Several 1D TiO2 nanostructures (such as nanorods, NWs, nano-
tubes, and nanobelts) have been produced for optoelectronic and gas sensor applica-
tions throughout, which will be briefly reviewed in the next section (Table 1.1) [43].
The sol–gel method entails merging scattered solid nanoparticles (sols with diame-
ters ranging from 1 to 100 nm) in a homogenous liquid medium and aggregating
them to form a coherent three-dimensional (3D) structure in the liquid phase with
pore dimensions in the sub-micrometer range [44].
1.2.2.1 Nanotubes
CNTs were found soon after fullerenes were successfully synthesized in one experi-
ment. CNTs have been a subject of investigation since their discovery in 1991, owing
to their distinctive structural qualities and properties, as well as their potential tech-
nological applications [38]. They resemble a cylinder constructed of a graphite sheet
(hexagonal carbon lattice). Nanotubes exhibit a variety of electrical, structural, and
thermal properties that vary depending on length, diameter, and chirality or twist of
the nanotube [45]. To further the interest, nanotubes can have multiple walls
(MWNTs) cylinders inside cylinders in addition to a single cylindrical wall
(SWNTs) [46]. Sen et al. pyrolyzed adequate components to create boron carbide
nitride (B–C–N) and C–N nanotubes. When aza-aromatics, like pyridine, are
1.2 Synthesis of 1D Hybrid Nanostructure 5
1.2.2.2 Nanowires
Over the last years, a broad range of physicochemical methods have been reported
the fabrication of semiconducting NWs [49]. These strategies might be classified
using both bottoms-up and top-down approaches [50]. To create NWs, the physical
process relies on cutting bulk single-crystalline materials (such as Si, Ge, and GaAs)
with high-energy plasma species [51, 52]. Since Wagner and associates created
Au-catalyzed Si micro-whiskers in 1964, the catalyst particle aided vapor–liquid–
solid (VLS) growth process, first reported by the production of NWs from diverse
materials utilizing a range of physical sputtering, e-beam, MBE, and CVD methods,
has been intensively studied [53]. By using traditional methodologies for the devel-
opment of the epitaxial structure through this VLS method, a precision alignment
system may be obtained throughout NW formation. Inside the regulated fabrication
of heavy nanofiller arrays and single-wire devices, the approach VLS epitaxy proves
to be advantageous [54]. If ZnO is grown multilayered on a flat crystal framework,
it tends to enlarge in dimension and readily generates highly oriented arrangements
(Figure 1.1a). For the GaN (Figure 1.1b) and Si/Ge structures, a comparable level of
epitaxial regulation may be accomplished [55, 56]. This VLS approach may be used
to create NW structures with strict shape control (<20 nm) [57, 58]. Advances in
scanning and transmission electron microscopy (TEM) provided essential analytical
tools for characterizing these materials in the following decades, paving the way for
the fabrication of NWs in the field of advanced materials.
(a) (b)
Figure 1.1 SEM image (a) on a plane sapphire wafer, ZnO nanowires, and (b) GaN
nanowire arrays on plane LiAlO2 part. Source: Pauzauskie and Yang [56], Elsevier.
6 1 One-Dimensional Semiconducting Hybrid Nanostructure
1.2.2.3 Nanorods
Nanorods are an appealing component for research and often good alternatives for
various applications due to their form anisotropy. Due to the increased stimulation
of surface plasmons in nanoparticles produced by an increase in particle aspect
ratio, nanorods have been shown to be more efficient than spherical particles. The
strength of the dipole moment is notably significant within a nanoparticle due to
the rise in surface plasmons [59]. As a result, the electrical field in nanorods
increases in comparison with spherical particles. Significantly well-oriented CdSe
nanorods, according to Alivisatos and coworker, provided an effective, guided path
for charge transporters to pass through the photoelectric device and be collected [60].
Inserting nanorods into P3HT films boosted extrinsic quantum yield by three times
when the aspect ratio was raised from 1 to 10 nm [61]. While researching Ag
nanorods for polystyrene composites by Winey et al., they discovered that the elec-
trical conductivity of polymer composites is influenced by the aspect ratio of aniso-
tropic nanoparticles. Particularly, because rod-shaped particles have a lower
percolation threshold than spherical particles [62], percolation threshold was dis-
covered to be affected by both the form and size of nanoparticles. Many advantages
in the underlying features of nanorods are projected to be shared by larger rod-
shaped particles, both in diameter and length. In conclusion, the aspect ratio, poly-
dispersity, volume fraction, and alignment of nanorods have a significant impact on
their efficacy [62].
In general, the development of nanorods in arrays requires a platform supplied by
the substrate, which can be constructed of a variety of materials [63]. According to
Oh et al., electrochemical gas sensors based on vertically oriented ZnO nanorod
arrays (average length and diameter were 500 and 50 ppm, respectively) were suc-
cessfully created (Figure 1.2a,b) [64, 65]. The devices can be made by introducing
39.5 W/cm ultrasound vibrations at 20 kHz into a solvent (such as 0.1 M zinc nitrate
300 nm 500 nm
(a) (b)
Figure 1.2 SEM picture of ZnO nanorod (a) upper view and (b) oblique view. Source: Yuan
et al. [64], MDPI, CC BY 4.0.
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“Now I’m goin’,” asserted Snoopie.
“Naw; it’s my turn!” opposed Tom and Nixie together.
But Snoopie shoved between them and past you, and was in the
ring.
Snoopie Mitchell—ragged, wandering, independent, but at times
despised Snoopie—was as one inspired. Never before had he such a
circle of witnesses, and the wine went to his brain.
He flip-flopped frontward clear across the loft from the dressing-
room corner into Mrs. Schmidt’s lap, and flip-flopped backward to
the dressing-room again; and bowed. He walked about on his
hands; and bowed. He stood on his head (“That ain’t fair!” called
Billy. “I did that!”) longer than Billy did, and while in that position
spit, besides; and bowed. He did the “splits” farther than you could,
and kissed his hand, while the spectators murmured various
acknowledgments of his posture.
He rubbed his palms and lightly sprang to the trapeze dangling
from the beam.
He skinned the cat, but he skinned it twice, and half into the third,
and impishly hung poised, while his shoulder-joints cracked and the
Schmidt hired girl moaned:
“Howly saints!”
He hung by his toes and threw wide his arms; but, suddenly
letting go, with preconceived adroitness fell on his back, amidst
muffled shrieks.
He chinned himself, but he did it ten times.
“Come in! That’s enough!” you ordered.
He obeyed you not. Instead, he hung by his knees; he hung by
one elbow and swayed and kicked; he straddled the bar and went
around it faster and faster; and with feet between hands, soles
against it, he went around that way, too.
In the dressing-room reigned despair and lamentation.
“’Tain’t fair!” wailed Tom, hotly. “I was
goin’ to do some of those things myself.”
“So was I!” declared Nixie.
Snoopie was now juggling balls while
traversing the official tight rope stretched
between two of the saw-horses.
“Make him come in, Hen!” you called.
Hen snapped his whip at Snoopie’s bare
legs, and brought him to the boards.
“Quit, will you!” snarled Snoopie. “Don’t
you go whippin’ me, or I’ll paste you!”
“You darned old fool!” you scolded.
He wiggled his ears—wiggled them much
more than Fat could his—and twitched his
scalp, accommodatingly turning to right and to left so that all might
see.
Then, breathless, crimson, perspiring, he walked on his hands into
the dressing-room.
“What did you do all that for?” demanded you, angrily.
“Do what?” retorted Snoopie. “I didn’t do nothin’! What’s the
matter with you kids, anyhow?”
“You did, too!” berated Nixie. “You showed off an’ spoilt
everything. I ain’t goin’ out.”
“Don’t you—an’ we won’t, either!” chorused Tom and Billy.
“Oh, Jock! Fat’s got his rats and he’s takin’ ’em away with him!”
announced Hen.
“You come back, there, Fat! Darn you! bring them back!” you
cried, rushing to the rescue.
Too late. Fat was stamping rebelliously down the stairs. The
disintegration of Schmidt & Walker’s United Shows, through jealousy,
had begun.
“Aren’t you fellows comin’ out?” queried Hen.
“Uh-uh! ’Tain’t any fun,” grunted Billy, spokesman.
“They say they won’t play any more,” you reported to Hen.
“I guess that’s all, then,” stated Hen to the spectators.
With high hoots from the boys, and rustling of dresses from the
ladies, the amphitheater was emptied.
“I didn’t do nothin’,” insisted Snoopie, grinning. “You needn’t go to
blamin’ me!”
But nobody answered him; and with a derisive, “Ya-a-a! Your old
show ain’t worth shucks!” he scampered below, to join riotous,
admiring spirits elsewhere.
F ATHER and mother not only cherished the idea that “it was good
for boys to have some work to do,” but they cherished it in a
distorted form. ’Twas not as though you were opposed to work, per
se. No, indeed; there was a time for work and a time for play, and
any day you would have been very willing to stay out of school and
run errands or pile wood or rake up. Then, work would have been
(just as your copy-book informed) a “privilege.”
But witness: only Saturdays and after-school and vacation would
do for that, and the privilege was changed into a hardship, with your
father, from his security, recollecting what he did “when he was a
boy,” and evidently taking it out on you!
For “when he was a boy” father “had to work,” and rather
vaingloriously (egotistically, to say the least) presented himself as a
living, moving argument to apply to your case. However, he was of
little weight with you because, privately, you bet with yourself that
he never had to work as hard as you—never! Other fellows could
skip off fishing, and everything, while you’d got to pile wood or rake
the yard.
“Can I go fishin’ to-morrow?”
With a bluffness cloaking sundry misgivings you laid the question
before mother, hoping that she would unwittingly answer yes, and
that you might entrap her into a family division. Alas, mother was
not to be entrapped.
“Ask your father,” she evaded, just as you had feared that she
might.
So, reluctantly, you sought father.
“Well, John?” he prompted as you stood before him.
Sharpened to X-ray acuteness through strenuous sire-ship, he
interpreted perfectly what was forthcoming.
“Can I go fishin’ to-morrow?”
“But you have the yard to rake, you know, don’t you?”
“I’ll rake it after school next week.”
The promise tumbled eagerly out for inspection, and father
summarily condemned it.
“You promised that if I let you off last Saturday you’d rake it this
week—”
“It rained,” you faltered.
So it did. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday you had
carefully reconnoitered, estimated, circled the prospect, so to speak;
given the yard every chance within your power to rake itself, and
thus add to nature phenomena; and then, on Friday, when you had
got all ready, had come the rain, and balked your farther efforts.
Yes. You had done your best, and now was it for you or yours to
discourage Providence? But father rashly plunged ahead.
“I guess you’d better rake and have it done with. Then you can
go.”
“I promised Snoopie and Fat I’d go to-morrow. Fishin’ will be
dandy to-morrow. It’s always best right after a rain.”
You had begun to whine.
“John!”
When father said “John!” in that tone, and with one exclamation-
point, it indicated that your cause was finally and flatly dismissed. An
additional exclamation-point might mean committal for contempt.
Accordingly, unwilling to provoke this, after sniffling a moment, on
the safe side of his newspaper, and morosely kicking the porch
railing, you stalked off, slamming behind you the inoffensive gate,
and quite ripe for any desperate deed that could readily be undone,
if necessary.
The next day dawned splendidly. Never was a better fishing day—
never! Never would be another so good—never! Yet father and
mother did not seem to care, and ate breakfast as indifferently as
though raking the yard was fully as much fun for a boy as pulling out
bullheads!
From in front somebody whistled persistently.
“There’s Snoopie. He wants me to go,” you reminded.
Still remained time for a revision of the program, if—if—
“I hear him,” responded mother, mildly.
“Run out and tell him, so he won’t wait,” suggested father.
Enveloped in sorrow and shame you emerged to the impatient
Snoopie and broke the news.
“I can’t go. My father says I’ve got to rake the yard.”
Snoopie stared in amaze. He never had any yard to rake, for his
father was dead, or something, and his mother worked out by the
day. He never had to change his clothes, and he could play hooky
whenever he pleased. Sometimes you almost envied Snoopie.
“Aw, hang the old yard!” advised Snoopie, incredulous. “Come on.
She’s a daisy day.”
“I can’t,” you confessed miserably.
“Pooh! You bet I’m goin’, tho’, all the samee! You’re missin’ it!”
And on he passed, whistling, with ostentatious blitheness, a
disjointed tune, leaving you to lean disconsolately over the fence
and remark him, and then to retire to face the flinty tyrants within.
You plumped into your breakfast chair, and ruthlessly banged your
plate with your knife, and scowlingly bolted your food. But nobody
appeared to notice. After breakfast the routine of the day was calmly
taken up as usual. Father went down town, to business; mother
bustled about household duties; Maggie the girl sang as she
removed the breakfast dishes. It seemed to be accepted as a matter
of course that you should rake. For this was such a morning made—
raking. You raked.
Higher rose the sun, and higher rose your wrath. Happily
scratched the poultry, and viciously you scratched, with the rake.
What was your life, anyway, but one unremitting round of coercion!
Who cared whether you had any fun? Nobody! Other boys could do
as they chose; but not you. No; not you. You were always being
made to do things that you didn’t want to do. You were nothing but
a slave. And you would submit to it no longer.
The darned old fools! You would show them! You would run away!
Then—then (you hoped) would come upon that household the
time when, gathered together, one member would say to another:
“I wish that Johnny was here.”
“Yes,” would confess father; “if he were only here he might go
fishing whenever he pleased. I would be kinder to him; the yard
could wait.”
“And I, too,” would quaver mother. “I understand, now. I used to
send him after a yeast-cake, and never think how tired he must be.”
“And I’d never mind again his being in the kitchen,” would sob
Maggie the girl. “No, indeed. He should have all the cake and lumps
of brown sugar he wanted.”
“Oh, Johnny, Johnny!” would wail all. “Come back and try us once
more. We’ll be so different.”
But they would plead too late. You would be far away; perhaps at
the very moment dying, unknown, miserable, forlorn and forsaken;
dying in the gutter or by the roadside, of starvation and exposure;
and the people who found you would inquire, among themselves,
pityingly:
“Who is he? Has he no friends?”
And the answer would be:
“None. He is only a poor little outcast, driven by abuse from
home.”
That would be a grand way to die, if only the household would
know about it. Your eyes grew wet, while your heart swelled
triumphant, as the picture took hold upon your sympathies.
The aroma of fresh cookies floated through the kitchen’s open
door. You were aware that Maggie would be expecting you. When
warm cookies were heralded, she had good reason to expect you.
You hesitated, and for some time you held off, with the vague
purpose of spiting her or your mother. If only one or the other would
try to coax you in! But one or the other didn’t. So, finally (the aroma
proving beyond human endurance) you tramped moodily in, and
from the fragrant pile abstracted a handful of the luscious disks.
Even as you did so you were proudly conscious that another cooky
day, and the pile would await your coming, in vain. Very likely, after
you were gone, they would not bake cookies any more. Or, if they
did, the dough would be all salty with tears. Maybe, as an almost
hopeless resort, mother would say:
“Maggie, bake cookies to-day just as you used to. Leave the door
and windows open, and perhaps—who knows—our Johnny may be
lingering about, and when he smells them baking he will understand
that we are waiting and calling.”
“Yes, ma’am—who knows?” would reply Maggie, chokingly.
You also, choked. For even then you would be dead, dead, dead.
You could die in a week, couldn’t you?
You gulped down the last mouthful of warm cooky, and suddenly
as you raked you waxed brighter. Why die? Why not live on, and
become famous? Would not that be far better revenge? Some day,
then, would reach household ears word of a new star in the
firmament of glory; a name would be read, a name would be
spoken, a name resounding through the whole world, name of
intrepid explorer, dashing leader, multi-millionaire, potentate over
savage peoples, what-not. And father would say to mother:
“Why—that’s our Johnny!”
“It certainly is!” would exclaim mother.
And she would call Maggie, and all would discuss the strange
tidings. Soon the village would be ringing with your exploits.
The household would send messages to you, of course, pleading
for one sign of forgiveness; for a visit, a token. But you would return
with scorn their missives, and ignore their entreaties.
Or would it not be well to heap coals of fire upon their heads?
’Twas a difficult matter to decide.
At any rate, you would run away. That very afternoon should
witness you steadfastly plodding onward, face to the west, fortune
and revenge before, ungrateful, cruel home behind. When tea was
ready Maggie, and then mother, would summon you in vain.
Mother would say to father:
“Why, I can’t find Johnny!”
“Oh, he’ll come,” would assert father.
But you wouldn’t. They would eat supper without you; they would
be alarmed; they would inquire among the neighbors; they would
search up-stairs and down; nothing would give them a hint—or
would it be a more subtle rôle to leave a note, a tear-stained note,
with simply “Good-by” writ within? That was another point to be
considered.
However, the truth would dawn upon them. At first they would
refuse to believe it. They would think:
“Oh, he’ll be back. You see if he isn’t.”
You would not come back. Evening would merge into night—but
no Johnny. The night would settle down; there would be weeping,
running to and fro, searching and calling, and all the while you
would be out in the dark and the dew (and it got cold, too, in the
middle of the night) at the mercy of storm and prowling beasts.
When came the morn, it would find the household red-eyed,
distraught, and repentant—but still no Johnny.
Possibly the minister, in church, would refer to you during his
sermon; not mentioning outright your name, because that would be
too direct and hard upon your folks, but nevertheless by an allusion
that should be unmistakable. The congregation would know to what
he was referring, and all would turn and look at the family pew—the
pew of shame.
Your desk at school would be empty. The news of your departure
would spread about. Teacher would break down and cry when she
reached your name in the roll-call, and as a mark of respect your
seat would not be given to another, ever. It would remain
untenanted, sacred, an object-lesson to parents. Maybe it would be
draped with crape, like the desk of Harry Peters, who died. Say!
Yes, you would run away.
You were unusually quiet and subdued that noon, at dinner. It was
the quietness of resolve, the subduedness of pity. Here was the last
meal that you ever should eat at this board—and none save yourself
knew it. Ah, what a blow was about to fall upon the household.
What a secret was locked within your breast.
It seemed almost a missed opportunity. If the folks might only
suspect, and try to make advances. Then might you coolly rebuff
them, deliberately freeze them out, torture them with shallow
denials, and thus enjoy their suspicions while denying them your
confidence.
But the meal progressed, and nobody acted curious. That made
you mad.
“All raked, John?” asked father, kindly.
“Yes, sir.”
You answered him as briefly as was possible and safe.
“That’s good. Do you think he has earned a pair of white rabbits,
mamma?”
White rabbits!
“He has been a very good boy, and worked hard,” assured mother,
smiling upon you.
“Well, we’ll see,” hinted father, also smiling.
Gee! White rabbits were a serious menace to your outworks. You
perceived your defenses giving way. Stand firm, John; stand firm.
You have resolved, you know; don’t be lured by tardy bribes. What
are white rabbits to freedom, and revenge?
No, you will not be a traitor to yourself. Let the white rabbits come
—but, like much else, they will come too late. There will be no John
—no Johnny, no—no Johnny here to give them to. And you smile in
sickly fashion and say nothing.
You have the afternoon before you, and your preparations to
make. While, wilfully unconscious of your sinister purpose, the
household again proceeds about its routine duties, you make ready.
You will not carry much with you. Maybe you will take nothing at all.
Shall you leave your drawers and your treasures untouched, and
merely fade mysteriously from local ken, or shall you select articles
enough to signify your decision?
Oliver Optic’s boys, when escaping from the authority of a harsh
step-father or uncle, went away with their possessions either slung
over their shoulder, tied in a bandanna handkerchief, at the end of a
stick, or else contained in a trunk toted by aid of a wheelbarrow.
With tears (tears well very easily) blurring your eyes and
occasionally dropping from the end of your nose, in your little room
you hastily overhaul your belongings.
Upon the bed (dear little bed!) you spread a bandanna ’kerchief,
and in it you place an extra pair of stockings and your best necktie,
and—well, there doesn’t seem to be much else worth taking, in the
clothing line. A boy doesn’t need much; one outfit can last a long
time. Besides, the raggeder you get, the better, for the more pitiable
will be your plight. Your pockets already hold your jack-knife and
your jew’s-harp, and thereto you add your burning-glass, and your
cap-pistol (robbers and bears might not tell it from a real pistol) and
a fish-line.
Cast one farewell look about the little room (dear little room!). It
shall know you no more. Does it hate to see you go? But it mutely
implores in vain. You settle your cap firmly upon your head, and
stifling a sob over the pathos of it all you descend the stairs.
You stick the bandanna packet underneath your jacket. It would
be nice if the household might suspect it, and still not see it. But the
delicate medium is rather difficult to attain. Besides, it is too late for
them to try to stop you, now.
Mother is in the sitting-room as you pass through the hall,
kitchenward.
“Where are you going, Johnny boy?” she hails, cheerily.
“Nowhere,” you falter. “Just off.”
You pause, irresolutely, a second. If only you might be encouraged
to go in to her, and with strange meaning in your caress kiss her,
while she wondered at your tenderness; then in after days she
would recall, and feel all the worse.
“Well, be sure and be home in time for supper. We’re going to
have hot biscuits and honey!”
What a callous way to let you depart!
Noting, with minute care, each familiar object—ah, those
inanimate things; they know and feel bad!—you proceed into the
kitchen. Here, right before Maggie’s eyes, you boldly provision with
two cookies and an apple. You reck not whether she sees, or not;
the die is cast. You defiantly press on, straight out of the house, and
through the back gate.
The deed is done. You have gone. You are in the alley, and many
a long year will elapse before that back gate again swings to your
hand.
You wish that the folks knew—but they don’t. Your heart aches for
yourself; your going is so unheeded, the piteousness of it so wasted.
You grow angry, and stiffen your neck. All right; they need not
care, if they don’t want to. Perhaps they think you are fooling. You’ll
show them—yes, you’ll show them! Oh, if they would only call after
you, and beg you to turn, so that you might show them. You’d never
even glance. The darned old fools!
You stanchly round the alley corner, and march away, down the
street. Wild horses cannot drag you back. You wish they’d try.
Two whole blocks have you put behind you. Your stern pace lags a
bit. With the sky so blue and the sun so bright and the maples
o’erhead so rustly and the sidewalk so flecked with gold and the
yards and houses along the way so comfortable and friendly, really,
it is getting to be hard work keeping up steam. You have to think of
it constantly, or your fires die down.
The darned—the darned old fools!
You have been longer in traversing this third block. Another block,
and the maples and the sidewalk and the comfortable, friendly
houses, cease; the country begins. W-well, you’ll go that far,
anyhow.
D-darn ’em!
You have come to the end of the street; here is your Rubicon. You
feel that once started upon that country road, with your
handkerchief slung over your shoulder, then it will be too late! The
idea rather awes you. It looks a long way, into the world. And dying
does not, somehow, seem the attractive revenge that it once did.
You slacken—and halt.
You take the bandanna packet from beneath your jacket, and
inspect it.
Humph! Darn ’em, you meant it when you started, just the samee.
You uncertainly move forward again. If it wasn’t for those white
rabbits—. You walk slower. You blink hard. You stop, as if run down
—which, in truth, you are. You blink, and finger the cookies in your
jacket pocket.
Are the folks at home missing you? Supposing that they find out
you have run away, and as a punishment deny you the white rabbits,
after all! The thought stings. You hesitate, and sitting by the
roadside eat the two cookies and the apple.
You are reminded that there are “biscuits and honey” for supper.
Perhaps—perhaps you have gone far enough. Perhaps you’d
better not do “it,” this time.
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