But what aboutBranton Hills' municipal affairs, right now? In two months it was to ballot on who should sit in past-Councilman Antor's chair; and a campaign was on which was actually sizzling. And in what a contrast to our city's start! For it has grown rapidly; and, in comparison to that day upon which a thousand ballots was a big out-pouring of popular clamor now many politicians had City Hall aspirations. Andwhodo you think was running for Council, now? William Gadsby! Popularly known as Bill! Bill, Branton Hills' famous dandy; Bill, that consummation of all Branton Hills girls' most romantic wish; Bill, that "outdoor part" of Branton Hills' most aristocratic tailor shop! Naturally, opposing groups fought for that vacancy; part of our population clamoring loudly for Bill, but with many just as strongly against him. So it was:—
"Put Bill Gadsby in!! Bill has all our Mayor's good points! Bill will work for all that is upright and good!"
And also:—
"What!Bill Gadsby? Is this town plumb crazy? Say! If you put that fop in City Hallyou'll find all its railings flapping with pink satin ribbons; a janitor at its main door, squirting vanilla on all who go in; and its front lawn will turn into a pansy farm! Put amanin City Hall, not a sissy who thinks out 'upsy-downsy, insy-outsy' camping suits for girls!"
But though this didn't annoy Bill, itdidstir up Nancy, with:—
"Oh! That's just an abomination!Suchtalk about so grand a young chap! But I just saw a billboard with a sign saying: 'Bill Gadsby for Council;' so, probably I shouldn't worry, for Bill is as good as in."
"Baby," said Gadsby, kindly, "that's only a billboard, and billboards don't put a man in City Hall. It'sballots, darling;thousandsof ballots, that fill Council chairs."
"But, Daddy, I'm going to root for Bill. I'll stand up on a stump, or in a tip-cart, or——"
"Whoa! Wait a bit!" and Gadsby sat down by his "baby girl," saying: "You can't go on a stumping campaign without knowing a lot about municipal affairs; which you don't. Any antagonist who knows about such things would out-talk you without half trying. No, darling, this political stuff is too big for you. You just look out for things in that small bungalow of yours, and allow BrantonHills to fight to put Bill in. You know my old slogan:—'Man at a city's front; woman at a cabin door.'"
And Nancy, fondly stroking his hand, said:
"Man at a city's front! What a grand post for a man! A city, a big, rushing, dashing, slamming, banging, boiling mass of humanity! A city; with its bright, happy, sunny parks; and its sad, dark slums; its rich mansions and its shanty-town shacks; its shops, inns, shows, courts, airports, railway stations, hospitals, schools, church groups, social clubs, and,—and,—Oh!Whata magic visualization of human thought it is! But it is as a small child. It looks for a strong arm to support its first toddlings; for adult minds to pilot it around many pitfalls; and onward,onward!!To a shining goal!!" and Nancy's crown of rich brown hair sank lovingly in Gadsby's lap.
During this outburst Gadsby had sat dumb; but finally saying, proudly:—
"So, ho! My baby girl has grown up! Dolls and sand-digging tools don't call, as of old. And small, dirty paws, and a tiny smudgy chin, transform, almost in a twinkling into charming hands and a chin of maturity. My, my! It was but a month or two ago that you, in pig-tails and gingham——"
"No, Daddy! It was amighty longmonth or two ago; and it's not pig-tails and gingham, now, but a husband and a baby."
"All right, kid; but as you grow old, you'll find that, in glancing backwards, months look mighty short; and small tots grow up, almost in a night. A monthfrom nowlooks awfully far off; butlast month? Pff! That was only last night!"
Thus did Nancy and His Honor talk, until a vigorous honking at his curb told of Frank, "looking for a cook," for it was six o'clock.
Any man withso kindly a disposition toward Youth as has brought our Mayor forward in Branton Hills' history, may, without warning, run across an occasion which holds an opportunity for adding a bit of joy in living. So, as Gadsby stood, on a chilly fall day, in front of that big glass building which was built for a city florist, admiring a charming display of blossoming plants, a small girl, still in Grammar School, said, shyly:—
"Hulloa."
"Hulloa, you. School out?"
"On Saturdays, school is always out."
"That's so; itisSaturday, isn't it? Going in?"
"In!!My, no!Ican't go into that fairyland!"
"No? Why not, pray?"
"Aw! I dunno; but nobody has took kids in."
"Took? Took? Say, young lady, you must study your grammar book. Branton Hills schools don't——"
"Uh-huh; I know. But a kid just can't—"
"By golly! A kidcan!Grab my hand."
Now, many a fairy book has told, in glowing words, of childhood's joys and thrills at amazing sights; butnofairy bookcouldshow, in cold print, what Gadsby ran up against as that big door shut, and a child stood stock still—anddumb!Two small arms hung limply down, against a poor, oh,sopoor skirt; and two big staring brown orbs took in that vision of floral glory, which is found in just that kind of a big glass building on a cold, raw autumn day.
Gadsby said not a word; slowly strolling down a path amidst thousands of gladioli; around a turn, and up a path, along which stood pots and pots of fuchsias, salvias and cannas; and to a cross-path, down which was a big flat pansy patch, tubs of blossoming lilacs, and stiff, straight carnations. Not a word from Gadsby, for his mind was on that small bunch of rapturous joy just in front of him. But, finally, just to pry a bit into that baby mind, His Honor said:—
"Looks kind of good, don't it?"
A tiny form shrunk down about an inch; and an also tiny bosom, rising and falling in a thralldom of bliss, finally put forth a long, long,—
"O-h-h-h-h!!"
It was so long that Gadsby was in a quandary as to how such small lungs could hold it.
Now in watching this tot thrilling at its first visit to such a world of floral glory, Gadsby got what boys call "a hunch;" and said:—
"You don't find blossoms in your yard this month,doyou?"
If you know childhood you know that thrills don't last long without a call for information. And Gadsby got such a call, with:—
"No, sir. Is this God's parlor?"
Now Gadsby wouldn't, for anything, spoil a childish thought; so said, kindly:—
"It's part of it. God's parlor is awfully big, you know."
"Myparlor is awfullysmall; and not any bloss—— Oh! Wouldn't God——?"
Gadsby's hunch was now working, full tilt; and so, as this loving family man, having had four kids of his own, and this tot from a poor family with its "awfully small" parlor,—had trod this big glass building's paths again and again; round and round, an almost monstrous sigh from an almost bursting tiny bosom, said:—
"I'll think of God's parlor, always and always andalways!!" and Gadsby, on glancing upwards, saw a distinct drooping and curving of manystalks; which is a plant's way of bowing to a child. And, at Branton Hills' following Council night a motion was—— But I said Gadsby had a hunch. So, not onlythisschoolgirl's awfully small parlor, but many such throughout Branton Hills' poor districts, soon found a "big girl" from Gadsby's original Organization of Youth at its front door with plants from that big glass building, in which our City Florist works in God's parlor. (P.S.Gowith a child toyourCity Florist's big glass building. It's aduty!)
I am now goingback to my saying that a city has all kinds of goings-on; both sad and gay. So, as His Honor sat on his porch on a warm spring day, a paragraph in Branton Hills' "Post" brought forth such a vigorous "Huh!" that Lady Gadsby was curious, asking:—
"What is it?"
So Gadsby said:—"What do you think ofthis? It says:—'In a wild swaying dash down Broadway last night at midnight, past-Councilman Antor's car hit a hydrant, killing him and Madam Antor instantly. Highway Patrolman Harry Grant, who was chasing that car in from our suburbs, says both horribly drunk, Antor grazing four cars, Madam shouting and singing wildly, with Grant arriving too tardily to ward off that final crash.'"
Now Lady Gadsby was, first of all, a woman; and so got up quickly, saying:—
"Oh!! I must go down to poor young Mary,right off!" and Gadsby sat tapping his foot, saying:—
"So Antor's pantry probably still holds that stuff. Too bad. But, oh, that darling Mary! Justgot into High School! Not long ago Lucy told us of girls snubbing that kid; but I trust that, from this horror, our Branton Hills girls will turn from snubbing to pity. This account says that Madam Antor also was drunk. Awomandrunk!! And riding with a rum-sot man at a car's controls!Woman!From History's dawn, Man's soft, fond, loving pal!Woman!For whom wars of blood and agony cut Man down as you would mow a lawn!Woman!To whom infancy and childhood look for all that is upright and good! It's too bad; too bad!"
As in all such affairs you will always find two factions talking.Talkingabout what? Just now, aboutNormanAntor. What would this wiping out of his folks do to him? Norman was now living with Mary and two aunts who, coming from out of town, would try to plan for our two orphans; try to plan for Norman; Norman, brought up in a pool of liquor! Norman: tall, dark and manly and with a most ingratiating disposition——if not drunk. But nobody could say. A group would claim that "this fatality will bring him out of it;" but his antagonists thought that "That guy will always drink."
A day or two from that crash, Nancy, coming into Gadsby's parlor, found Lucy talking with Lady Gadsby, Lucy asking:—
"Nancy, who is with young Mary Antor now? That pair of aunts wouldn't stay, with all that liquor around."
"I just found out," said Nancy. "Mary is living with Old Lady Flanagan" and Lucy, though sad, had to laugh just a bit, saying:—
"Ha, ha! Old Lady Flanagan! What acircusI had trying to pry a zoo donation from that poor soul's skimpy funds! But, Nancy, Mary is in mighty good hands. That loving old Irish lady is a trump!"
Along in April, Gadsby sat finishing his morning toast as a boy, rushing in, put a "Post" on his lap with a wild, boyish gasp of:—"My gosh, Mayor Gadsby,Look!!" and Gadsby saw a word about a foot high. It was W—A—R. Lady Gadsby saw it also, slowly sinking into a chair. At that instant both Nancy and Kathlyn burst frantically in, Nancy lugging Baby Lillian, now almost two, and a big load for so small a woman, Nancy gasping out:—
"Daddy!! Must Bill and Julius and Frank and John,——"
Gadsby put down his "Post" and, pulling Nancy down onto his lap, said:—
"Nancy darling, Bill and Julius and Frank and John must. Old Glory is calling, baby, and no Branton Hills boy will balk atthatcall. It's awful, but it's a fact, now."
Lady Gadsby said nothing, but Nancy and Kathlyn saw an ashy pallor on that matronly brow; and Gadsby going out without waiting for his customary kiss.
For what you might call an instant, Branton Hills, in blank, black gloom, stood stock still. Butnot for long. Days got to flashing past, with that awful sight of girls, out to lunch, saying:—
"Four from our shop; and that big cotton mill hasforty-sixwho will go."
With Virginia saying:—
"About all that our boys talk about is uniforms, pay, transportation, army corps, divisions, naval squadrons, and so on."
An occasional Branton Hills politician thought that it "might blow out in a month or two;" but your Historian knows that it didn't; all of that "blowing" consisting of blasts from that military clarion, calling for mobilization.
* * * *
Days! Days! Days! Finally, on May Fourth, that day of tiny Nancy's big church ritual, you know; that day, upon which any woman would look back with romantic joy, Nancy, with Kathlyn, Lady Gadsby and His Honor, stood at Branton Hills' big railway station, at which our Municipal Band was drawn up; in back of which stood, in solid ranks, this city's grand young manhood, Bill, Julius, Frank, John, Paul and Norman standing just as straight and rigid as any. As that long, long troop train got its signal to start,—but you know all about such sights, going on daily, from our Pacific coast to Atlantic docks.
As it shot around a turn, and Gadsby was walking sadly toward City Hall, a Grammar School boy hurrying up to him said:—
"Wow!!I wishIcould go to war!"
"Hi!" said Gadsby. "If it isn't Kid Banks!"
"Aw! Cut that kid stuff! I'mAllanBanks! Son ofCouncilmanBanks!"
"Oh, pardon. But you don't want to go to war, boy."
"Aw! I do too!!"
"But young boyscan'tgo to war."
"I know that; and I wish this will last until I grow so Icango. It's just grand! A big cannon saysBoom! Boom!and,—"
"Sit down on this wall, boy. I want to talk to you."
"All right. Shoot!"
"Now look, Allan. If this war should last until you grow up, just think of how manythousandsof troops it would kill. How many grand, good lads it would put right out of this world."
"Gosh! That's so, ain't it! I didn't think of guys dyin'."
"But a manhasto think of that, Allan. Andyouwill, as you grow up. My two big sons just put off on that big troop train. I don't knowhowlong Bill and Julius will stay away. Your big cannonmight goBoom!and hit Bill or Julius. Do you know Frank Morgan, Paul Johnson and John Smith? All right; that big cannon might hit that trio, too. Nobody can saywhoa cannon will hit, Allan. Now, you go right on through Grammar School, and grow up into a big strong man, and don't think about war;" and Gadsby, standing and gazing far off to Branton Hills' charming hill district, thought: "I thinkthatwill bust up a wild young ambition!"
But that kid, turning back, sang out:—
"Say!! If this scrap stops, and abigwar starts,—Aha, boy! You just watch Allan Banks! Son of Councilman Banks!!" and a small fist was pounding viciously on an also small bosom.
"By golly!" said Gadsby, walking away, "that's Tomorrow talking!"
* * * *
So now this history will drift along; along through days and months; days and months of that awful gnawing doubt; actually a paradox, for it was a "conscious coma;" mornings on which Branton Hills' icy blood shrank from looking at our city's "Post," for its casualty list was rapidly—too rapidly,—growing. Days and days of our girlhood and womanhood rolling thousands of long, narrow cotton strips; packing loving gifts from many a pantry;Nancy and Kathlyn thinking constantly of Frank and John; Lucy almost down and out from worrying about Paul; Kathlyn knowing just how Julius is missing his Hall of Natural History, and how its staff is praying for him; Nancy's radio shut downtight, for so much as a thought of Station KBH was as a thrust of a sword. Days. Days. Days of shouting orators, blaring bands, troops from far away pausing at our big railway station, as girls, going through long trains of cars, took doughnuts and hot drinks. In Gadsby's parlor window hung that famous "World War flag" of nothing but stars; nobody knowing at what instant agoldstar would show upon it. A star for Bill; a star for Julius. Ah, Bill! Branton Hills' fop! Bill Gadsby now in an ill-fitting and un-stylish khaki uniform.
Gadby's mansion had no brilliant night lights, now; just his parlor lamp and a small light or two in hallways or on stairways. Only our Mayor and his Lady, now worrying, worrying, worrying; but both of good, staunch old Colonial stock; and "carrying on" with good old Plymouth Rock stability; and Nancy's baby, Lillian, too young to ask why Grandma "wasn't hungry," now; and didn't laugh so much.
Kathlyn got into our big hospital, this studiousyoung lady's famous biological and microscopic ability holding out an opportunity for most practical work; for Branton Hills' shot-torn boys would soon start drifting in. And thus it was; with Lucy, Sarah and Virginia inspiring Branton Hills' womanhood to knit, knit, knit! You saw knitting on many a porch; knitting in railway trains; knitting during band music in City Park; knitting in shady arbors out at our big zoo; at many a woman's club,—and,—actually, knittingin church!!Finally a big factory, down by our railway station, put out a call for "anybody, man or woman, who wants to work on munitions;" and many a dainty Branton Hills girl sat at big, unfamiliar stamping, punching, grinding, or polishing outfits; tiring frail young backs and straining soft young hands; knowing that this factory's output might,—and probably would,—rob a woman across that big Atlantic of a husband or son,—but, still, it is war!
Gadsby, smoking on his ivy-clad porch, as his Lady was industriously knitting, said, in a sort of soliloquy:—
"War! That awful condition which a famous military man in command of a division, long ago, said was synonymous with Satan and all his cohorts! War! That awful condition of human minds coming down from way,wayback of all history;that vast void during which sympathy was not known; during which animals fought with tooth, claw or horn; that vast void during which wounds had no soothing balm, until thirst, agony or a final swoon laid low a gigantic mammoth, or a tiny, gasping fawn! But now, again, in this grand day of Man's magically growing brain, this day of kindly crooning to infants in cribs; kindly talks to boys and girls in school; and blood-tingling orations from thousands of pulpits upon that Holy Command: 'Thou Shalt Not Kill,' now,again, Man is out to kill his own kind." And Lady Gadsby could only sigh.
As this story hasshown,Youth, if adults will only admit that it has any brains at all, will stand out, today, in a most promising light. Philosophically, Youth is Wisdom in formation, and with many thoughts startling to adult minds; and, industrially, this vast World's coming stability is now,today, in its hands; growing slowly, as a blossom grows from its bud. If you will furnish him with a thorough schooling, you can plank down your dollar that Youth,starting outfrom this miraculous day, will not lag nor shirk on that coming day in which old joints, rusty and crackling, must slow down; and, calling for an oil can, you will find that Youthonly, is that lubrication which can run Tomorrow's World. But Youth must not go thinking that all its plans will turn out all right; and young Marian Hopkins found this out. Marian, you know, took part in our airport initiation. But Marian, only a kid at that day, has grown up—or half-way up, anyway, and just graduating from Grammar School; upon which big day a child "knows" as much as any famous savant of antiquity! But, as this story runs in skips and jumps, strict chronological continuityis not a possibility. So, Marian is now half grown-up. Now that big airport, as you also know, was just back of Marian's back yard; and as that yard was much too big for anything that Marian's Dad could do with it, it was put up for disposal. But nobody would go to look at it; to say nothing of buying it. But Old Bill Simpkins, past antagonist of Gadsby's Organization of Youth, did go out to look at it; but said, with his customary growl:—
"Too many aircraft always roaring and zooming. Too far out of town. And you ask too much for it, anyway."
But Marian thought that Branton Hills, as a municipality, should own it; figuring that that airport would grow, and that yard was practically a part of it, anyway. So Marian, going to His Honor, as about anybody in town did, without an instant's dallying, "told him," (!) what his Council should do.
"But," said Gadsby, "what a City Council should do, and what itwilldo, don't always match up."
"Can't I go and talk to it?"
"What!To our Council? No; that is, not as a body. But if you can run across a Councilman out of City Hall you can say what you wish. A Councilman is just an ordinary man, you know."
But a Councilman out of City Hall was a hard man to find; and a child couldn't go to a man's mansion to "talk him around." But, by grand luck in a month or so, Marian did find, andwin, all but Simpkins.
On Council night, Simpkins took up a good,—or I should say, bad—half hour against Branton Hills "buying any old dump or scrap land that is put up. What was this city coming to?" and so on, and so on. And Marian's back yard wasn't bought. Now Youth is all right if you rub its fur in a way which suits it; but, man!! hold on to your hat, if you don't!! And Marian's fur was all lumpy.Boy! was that kid MAD!!
Now, just by luck, March thirty-first, coming along as days do, you know, found Marian in front of a toy shop window, in which, way down front, was a box of cigars, with a card saying: "This Brand Will Start His Blood Tingling." And Marian, as boys say, was "on" in an instant; and bought a cigar. Not a box, not a bunch, but justacigar. Coming out Marian saw His Honor and Simpkins passing; Simpkins saying:—
"All right. I'll drop around, tonight." And was Marian happy? Wait a bit.
That night as Gadsby and Simpkins sat talking in His Honor's parlor, who would, "just byluck," (??) walk in, but Marian; saying, oh,soshyly:—
"Just thought I'd drop in to chat with Nancy," and, on passing a couch, slyly laid that cigar on it. Now Simpkins, in addition to his famous grouch, was a parsimonious old crab; who, though drawing good pay as Councilman, couldn't pass up anything that cost nothing; and, in gazing around, saw that cigar; and, with a big apologizing yawn, and slinking onto that couch as a cat slinks up on a bird, and, oh,sononchalantly lighting a match, was soon puffing away and raving about Branton Hills politics. Out in a back parlor sat Marian and Nancy on a big divan, hugging tightly up, arm in arm, and almost suffocating from holding back youthful anticipations, as Simpkins said:—
"... and that Hopkins back yard stunt! Ridiculous! Why, his kid was out, trying to find all of our Council to talk it into buying. Bah! AnddidI block it? I'll say I did! You don't find kids today laughing at Councilman Simpkins."
An actualspasmof giggling in that back parlor had Gadsby looking around, inquiringly.
"No, sir!" Simpkins said. "No kid can fool Coun——"
BANG!!
Gadsby, jumping up saw only a frazzly cigar stump in Old Bill's mouth, as that palpitating individual was vigorously brushing off falling sparks as His Honor's rugs got a rain of tobacco scraps! Gadsby was "on" in an instant, noticing Marian and Nancy rolling and tumbling around on that big divan, and doubling up in a giggling fit,wayout of control. Finally Simpkins angrily got up, viciously jamming on his tall silk hat; and Marian, fighting that giggling fit, justhadto call out:—
"April Fool, Councilman Simpkins!!"
(And Mayor Gadsby, on a following Council night, got Marian's land bill through; many a Councilman holding his hand in front of his grinning mouth, in voting for bright, vitalic Youth.)
Widow Adams wassitting up again, for it was way past midnight, and Virginia was out. Many months ago Virginia was also out, and was brought back, unconscious. So now Nina was again sitting up, for Virginia was not a night-owl sort of a girl. Finally, around two o'clock, Ninacouldn'tstand it, and had to call in a passing patrolman. Now this patrolman was an original Organization of Youth boy, and had always known Nina andVirginia; and said:—
"Oh, now! I wouldn't worry so. Possibly a bus had a blowout; or—"
"But Virginia said nothingaboutgoing on a bus! Oh!!Howcould that child vanish so?"
Naturally, all that that patrolman could do was to call his station; and Nina, almost all in, lay down, until, just about dawn a jangling ringing brought this half wild woman to a front hall, shouting:—
"This is Nina Adams talking! Who?What?Virginia, is that you? What's wrong? What! You and Harold Thompson? Our aviator? You did what? Took his aircraft towhatcity? Why, that's so far you can't——" but Virginia had hung up.So Nina also hung up, and sat down with a big, long sigh:—
"My Virginia, notrunningaway, butflyingaway, to marry! Oh, this Youth of today!"
* * * *
Around six o'clock that night, Virginia and Harold stood arm in arm in Nina's parlor, as a big bus was groaning noisily away.
"But, Mama," said Virginia, sobbing pitifully, "I didn't think you would——"
"That's just it, Virginia, youdidn'tthink!! But youshould!How could I know what was going on? That's just you young folks of today. You think of nothing but your own silly, foolish doings, and you allow us oldgood-for-nothingsto go crazy with worry!!" and Nina sank in a gasping swoon onto a sofa.
But old Doc Wilkins, arriving at Virginia's frantic call, knowing Nina's iron constitution from childhood, soon had that limp form back to normal; and, with a dark, disapproving scowl at Virginia, said:—
"Bring in a good batch of hot food, and your Ma will turn out all right," and going out, with a snort of disgust, and banging viciously that big front door!
Awful tidings inour Branton Hills' "Post," had so wrought up our ordinarily happy, laughing Sarah, who, with Paul abroad, was back, living again with old Tom Young, that Sarah, sitting on a low stool by old Tom's rocking chair was so still that Tom put down his "Post," saying:—
"Gift of gab all run out, kid?"
But Sarah had an odd, thoughtful look. Sarah's bosom was rising and falling abnormally; but, finally, looking quickly up at old Tom, Sarah said:—
"Daddy, I want to go to war."
"Do what?" If Sarah had said anything about jumping out of a balloon, or of buying a gorilla to play with, Tom Young wouldn't know any such astounding doubt as brought his rocking chair to a quick standstill.
"War?What kind of talk is this? A girl going to war? What for? How?Say!!Whoputthis crazy stunt into your brain, anyway?"
As you know, Sarah was not only charming in ways, but also in build; and, with that glorious crown of brownish-gold hair, that always smilingmouth and that soft, plump girlishly-girlish form, no man, Tom Young nor anybody, could think of Sarah and war in a solitary thought. So Sarah said, softly:—
"Last night, our Night School trio thought that our boys, so far away, must miss us, and Branton Hills sights; and Doris said, 'Branton Hills sounds.' And so, why couldn't our trio join that big group of musicians which is sailing soon? And, Daddy, you know Paul is in that army. I don't know that I could find him, but—but—but I want to try. And Kathlyn is talking of going as biologist with a big hospital unit; so possibly I could stay with it."
Tom Young wasdumb!His "Post" actuallyhadtold of such a musical outfit about to sail; but it was a man's organization. So, now it has got around tothis!Our girls, our dainty, loving girls, brimful of both sympathy and patriotism, wanting to go into that tough, laborious work of singing in army camps; in huts; in hospitals; singing from trucks rolling along country roads along which sat platoons and battalions of troops, waiting for word which might bring to this or that boy his last long gun-toting tramp. Singing in—
"Aw, darling! Your trio was fooling, wasn't it? Now, girls don't——"
"Daddy, girlsdo!So, if our folks don't put up too much of a—"
"Aha!!Nowyou said a mouthful;ifyour folksdon't!Darling, I'll say just two words as my part in this crazy stunt: 'Nothing doing!!' Kathlyn's work is mighty important; singing isn't."
Sarah had not grown up from infancy in kindly Tom's cabin without knowing that his "no" was a "no!!" and not a flimsy, hollow word which a whining, or a sniffling, or a bawling child could switch around into: "Oh, all right, if you want to." So Sarah still sat on that low stool; or, to turn it around almost backwards,—Sarah sat on that stool,—still.Sostill that Tom's old tin clock on its wall hooks was soon dominating that small room with its rhythmic ticking, as a conductor's baton controls a brass band's pianissimos. Finally Sarah said softly, slowly, sadly and with a big, big sigh:—
"Ididso want to go." And that small clock was ticking, ticking, ticking ...
For a full hour Sarah and old Tom sat talking and rocking, until Sarah, phoning to Doris, said:—
"My Dad says no."
And Doris, phoning back to Sarah, said:—
"So did my Dad."
And, as Virginia Adams was that trio'sthird part; and as Sarah and Doris had always known Nina Adams' strong will; and as,—Oh, hum! It was a happy fascination until adult minds got hold of it!
Gadsby was walkingback from a visit down in Branton Hills' manufacturing district on a Saturday night. A busy day's traffic had had its noisy run; and with not many folks in sight, His Honor got along without having to stop to grasp a hand, or talk; for a Mayor out of City Hall is a shining mark for any politician. And so, coming to Broadway, a booming bass drum and sounds of singing, told of a small Salvation Army unit carrying on amidst Broadway's night shopping crowds. Gadsby, walking toward that group, saw a young girl, back towards him, just finishing a long, soulful oration, saying:—
"... and I can say this to you, for I know what I am talking about; for I was brought upin a pool of liquor!!"
As that army group was starting to march on, with this girl turning towards Gadsby, His Honor had to gasp, astonishingly:—
"Why! Mary Antor!!"
"Oh! If it isn't Mayor Gadsby! I don't run across you much, now-a-days. How is Lady Gadsby holding up during this awful war?"
All such family gossip passing quickly, Gadsby said:—
"But this Salvation Army work, Mary? How long——"
Mary and His Honor had to walk along, as that big drum was now pounding a block away. During that walk Gadsby found out all about that vast void in Mary's bungalow following that fatal auto crash; and all about "two old maid aunts" as Mary said, who had all that pantry's liquor thrown down a drain and got out, also, a day or two following; all about living now at Old Lady Flanagan's.
"... for I justcouldn'tstay in that bungalow, with nobody around, you know." And all about loving companionship in that grand old lady's arms; and of Mary's finding that Flanagan, who got such a "wallop" from Antor's killing, wasn't drinking so much, now; which put it into Mary's mind that many a man would, with kindly coaching, turn from it.
"And I think that my nightly talks against liquor, hit; and hithard, too; for almost nightly a poor down-and-out will follow along with our band, promising to cut it out and go straight.Oh, whydidn't I try to stop Norman's drinking?"
"Probably," said Gadsby, "you did, in yourgirlish way; but you know boys don't think that small girls know anything. I'd put up any amount that Norman, in that far-away camp, is thinking of you, constantly."
"Oh-h-h-h! If I could onlyknowthat!" and a look of almost sanctity, and a big, long-drawn sigh told what a turmoil was going on in this young girl's mind. "But I'm going on, and on and on with this night talking until Norman is back again. Possibly a plan will turn up toward both of us living down our past,——and our sorrow." And Gadsby, slowly plodding along towards his dimly lit mansion, thought of a slight transposition of that scriptural quotation: "And your sins, you adults, shall fall upon your offspring, unto your third and fourth—"
"Oh, if a man would only think of his offspring having to carry on, long past his last day! And of how hard it is for a boy or girl to stand up and proudly (?) claim that so-and-so 'was my Dad,' if all Branton Hills knows of that Dad's inglorious past. Poor kids!" for you know that Gadsby said, in this story's start, that "a man should so carry on his daily affairs as to bring no word of admonition from anybody;" for a man's doings should put a stain upon no soul but his own.
But,aha!!As His Honor got to his parlor,his sad mind found a happy, smiling Lady awaiting him; crying joyously:—
"Look! Look, John! Word from William! From Bill, in Paris!"
Bill's first communication said:—
"Darling Folks: Julius and I just got into this town from a month of hard marching, ditch-digging and fighting. I am all right, and so is Julius. Ran across Frank, who is on duty at our Commissary. Lucky guy! Lots of food always around! Paul is growing fat. Looks mighty good. Oh, how all of us do miss you and good old Branton Hills! I can't find a solitary suit in this town that I would put on to go to a dog fight!Such fashion!" and so on; just a natural outpouring from a boy, away on his first trip from his Dad's kindly roof.
"Ha, ha!" said Gadsby, laughing jovially; "That's our Bill, all right! Always thinking of dolling up!" and Lady Gadsby, rising quickly, said:—
"Oh, I must call up Nancy, Kathlyn and Sarah!" and, in a trio of small bungalows, joy,wildjoy, found its way into girlish minds!
As Gadsby sat, going through this good word again and again, a mirthful chuckling had Lady Gadsby asking:—
"What's so funny about it?"
"Nothing; only if I didn't know that Frankis such a grand, good lad, I'd think Bill was hiding a bit from us; for that 'on duty at Commissary'mightamount only to potato paring!"
Priscilla Standishwas waiting at our big railroad station, on a warm Spring day, for a train to pull out, so that cross-track traffic could start again. It was just an ordinary train such as stop hourly at Branton Hills, but Priscilla saw that a group was hurrying toward a combination-car, way up forward. Now Priscilla was not a girl who found morbid curiosity in any such a public spot; but, still, an odd, uncanny sort of thrill,—almost a chill, in fact,—was urging, urging a slow walk toward that car. Just why, Priscilla didn't know; but such things do occur in a human mind. So Priscilla soon was standing on a trunk truck, gazing down into that group which now was slowly moving back, forming room for taking out a young man in khaki uniform, on a hospital cot. With a gasp of horror, Priscilla was instantly down from that truck, pushing through that group, and crying out, wildly:—
"Arthur!Arthur Rankin! Oh! Oh! What is it, darling?" and looking up at a hospital assistant, "Is it bad?"
"Don't know, right now, lady," said thatsnowy clad official. "Unconscious. But our big hospital will do all it can for him."
Arthur Rankin! Arthur, with whom Priscilla had had many a childhood spat! Arthur who had shown that "puppy stuff" for Priscilla, that his old aunt was always so disapprovingly sniffing at! And now, unconscious on a,——
With a murmuring of sympathy from that sorrowing public, now dissolving, as all crowds do, Priscilla had a quick, comforting thought: "Kathlyn is working at that hospital!"
Kathlyn had known Arthur as long as Priscilla had; and Kathlyn's famous ability would——
So our panting and worrying girl was hurrying along through Broadway's turning and inquiring crowds to that big hospital which our Organization of Youth had had built. And now Arthur was going, for not long, possibly, but, still possibly for——
* * * *
It was midnight in that big still building. Old Doctor Wilkins stood by Arthur's cot; Priscilla, sobbing pitifully, was waiting in a corridor, with Lady Standish giving what comfort a woman could. Lady Standish, who took in dogs, cats, rabbits or any living thing that was hurt, sick or lost; Lady Standish, donor of four thousand dollarsfor our big Zoo; Lady Standish, kindly savior of Clancy's and Dowd's "Big Four," now waiting, without ability to aid ahumananimal. Finally, Doctor Wilkins, coming out, said:—
"Kathlyn says no sign of blood contamination, but vitality low;badlylow; sinking, I think. Railroad trip almost too much for him. Looks bad."
But, at this instant, an assistant, calling Wilkins, said Arthur was coming out of his coma; and was murmuring "about a woman known as Priscilla. Do you know anybody by——?"
With a racking sob, Priscilla shot through that door, Lady Standish quickly following. Arthur, picking up, a bit, from Priscilla's soft, oh,sosoft and loving crooning and patting, took that fond hand and—sank back! Doctor Wilkins, looking knowingly at Priscilla, said:—
"If it is as I think, you two had had thoughts of—"
A vigorous nod from Priscilla, and an approving look from Lady Standish, and Doctor Wilkins said:—
"Hm-m-m! It should occurright now!Or,——"
As quick as a flash that snowy-clad assistant was phoning; and,astonishinglysoon, our goodPastor Brown stood by that cot; and, with Arthur in a most surprising pick-up, holding Priscilla's hot, shaking hand, through that still hospital room was wafting Priscilla's soft, low words:—
"... you for my lawful husband, until ..."
* * * *
Doctor Wilkins, going out with Priscilla, now trying, oh,sohard for control; with grand, charming, loving Kathlyn, arm in arm, said:—
"That joy will pull him through. Boys, at war, so far away, will naturally droop, both in body and mind, from lack of a particular girl's snuggling and cuddling. So just wait until Kathlyn finds out all about his condition; and good food, with this happy culmination of a childhood infatuation, will put him in first-class condition, if no complications show up."
Ah! What an important part of a city's institutions a hospital is! What a comfort to all, to know that, should injury or any ailing condition of man, woman or child occur without warning, anybody can, simply through phoning find quick transportation at his door; and, with angrily clanging gongs, or high-pitch whistlings obtaining a "right of way" through all traffic, that institution's doors will swing apart, assistants will quickly surround that cot, and an ability for doing anything that Mancando is at hand. You know, almost daily, of capitalists of philanthropic mold, donating vast sums to a town or an association; but, in your historian's mind, no donation can do so much good as that which builds, or maintains hospitalization for all. A library, a school, a boys' or girls' club, a vacation facility, a "chair" of this or that in an institution of instruction,—all do much to build up a community. Both doctoring as a study for a young man, and nursing for a girl form most important parts of Mankind's activity.
And so, just four months from that awful, but also happy day, Arthur Rankin sat in a hammock with Priscilla, on Lady Standish's porch, with four small Rankins playing around; or was walking around that back yard full of cats, dogs, rabbits, and so on, with no thought of soap box orations in his mind.
On a grand autumnmorning Branton Hills' "Post" boys ran shouting down Broadway, showing in half-foot wording: "FIGHTING STOPS!! HISTORY'S MOST DISASTROUS WAR IS HISTORY NOW!!!" and again, Branton Hills stood stock still. But only for an instant; for soon, it was, in all minds:—
"Thank God!! Oh,ringyour loud church clarions!Blowyour factory blasts! Shout! Cry! Sing!Play, you bands! Burst your drums! Crack your cymbals!"
Ah, what a sight on Broadway! Shop girls pouring out! Shop janitors boarding up big glass windows against a surging mob! And, (sh-h-h-h) many a church having in its still sanctity a woman or girl at its altar rail.
Months, months, months! Branton Hills was again at its big railroad station, its Municipal Band playing our grand National air, as a long troop train, a solid mass of bunting, was snorting noisily in. And, amidst that outpouring flood of Branton Hills boys, Lady Gadsby, Nancy, Kathlyn and His Honor found Bill, Julius, Frank andJohn. Sarah was just "going all apart" in Paul's arms, with Virginia swooning in Harold's.
On old Lady Flanagan's porch sat Mary Antor; for, having had no word from Norman for months, this grand young Salvation Army lass was in sad, sad doubt. But soon, as that shouting mob was drifting away, and happy family groups walking citywards, a khaki-clad lad, hurrying to old Lady Flanagan's cabin, and jumping that low, ivy-clad wall, had Mary, sobbing and laughing, in his arms. No. It wasn't Norman.
A crowd wasstanding around in City Park, for a baby was missing. Patrol cars roaring around Branton Hills; many a woman hunting around through sympathy; kidnapping rumors flying around. His Honor was out of town; but on landing at our railroad station, and finding patrol cars drawn up at City Park, saw, in that crowd's midst, a tiny girl, of about six, with a bunch of big shouting patrol officers, asking:—
"Who took that baby?"
"Did you do it?"
"Which way did it go?"
"How long ago did you miss it?"
"Say, kiddo!!Why don't you talk?"
An adult brain can stand a lot of such shouting, but a baby's is not in that class; so, totally dumb, and shaking with fright, this tot stood, thumb in mouth, and two big brown baby orbs just starting to grow moist, as His Honor, pushing in, said:
"Wait a bit!!" and that bunch in uniform, knowing him, got up and Gadsby sat down on a rock, saying:—
"You can't find out athingfrom a young child by such hard, gruff ways. This tiny lady isalmost in a slump. Now, just start this crowd moving. I know a bit about Youth."
"That's right," said a big, husky patrolman. "If anybody living knows kids, it's you, sir."
So, as things got around to normal, His Honor, now sitting flat on City Park's smooth lawn, said, jovially:—
"Hulloa."
A big gulping sob in a tiny bosom—didn't gulp; and a grin ran around a small mouth, as our young lady said:—
"Somany big cops! O-o-o! I got afraid!"
"I know, darling; but no big cops will shout at you now.Idon't shout at tiny girls, do I?"
"No, sir; but if folks do shout, I go all woozy."
"Woozy? Woozy? Ha, ha! I'll look that up in a big book. But what's all this fuss about? Is it about a baby?"
A vigorous nodding of a bunch of brown curls.
"What? Fussing about a baby? A baby is too small to fuss about."
"O-o-o-o! Itisn't!!"
"No?"
"No, sir. I fuss about my dolly, an' it's not half so big as a baby."
"That's so. Girls do fuss about dolls. My girls did."
"How many dolls has your girls got?"
"Ha, ha! Not any, now. My girls all got grown up and big."
During this calm, happy talk, a patrolman, coming up, said:—
"Shall I stick around, Your Honor? Any kidnapping facts?"
"I don't know, just now. Wait around about an hour, and drop in again."
So His Honor, Mayor of Branton Hills, and Childhood sat on that grassy lawn; a tiny tot making daisy chains, grass rings, and thrilling at Gadsby's story of how a boy, known as Jack, had to climb a big, big tall stalk to kill an awfully ugly giant. Finally Gadsby said:—
"I thought you had a baby playing with you."
"I did."
"Huh, it isn't playing now. Did it fly away?"
"Oho! No! A baby can't fly!"
"No. That's right. But howcoulda baby go away from you without your knowing it?"
"It didn't. I did know it."
Now, many may think that His Honor wouldthrill at this information; but Gadsby didn't. So, "playing around" for a bit, His Honor finally said:—
"I wishIhad a baby to play with, right now!"
"You can."
"Can I? How?"
With a tiny hand on baby lips, our small lady said:—
"Go look in that lilac arbor; butgo soft!I think it's snoozing."
And Gadsby, going to that arbor, got a frightful shock; for it was Lillian, Nancy's baby! Not having known of this "kidnapping" as his family couldn't find him by phoning, itwasa shock; for His Honor was thinking of that young woman collapsing. So, upon that patrolman coming back, as told, Gadsby said:—
"Go and call up your station,quickly!Say that I want your Captain to notify my folks that Lillian is all right."
"Good gosh, Your Honor!! Is this tot your grandchild?"
"Grandchild or no grandchild,you dash to that box!!"
And so, again, John Gadsby, Champion ofYouth, had shown officialdom that a child's brain and that of an adult vary as do a gigantic oak and its tiny acorn.
Most of Gadsby'sold Organization of Youth was still in town, though, as you know, grown up. So, on a Spring day, all of its forty boys and as many girls got most mystifying cards, saying:—
"Kindly go to Lilac Hill on May sixth, at four o'clock. IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT!!" That was all. Not a word to show its origin. No handwriting. Just a small, plain card in ordinary printing.
Not only that old Organization, but His Honor, Lady Gadsby, Old Tom Young, Tom Donaldson, Nina Adams, Lady Standish and Old Lady Flanagan got that odd card.
"Arrah! Phwat's this, anny way?" sang out that good old lady. "Is it court summons, a picnic, or a land auction? By gorry, it looks phony!"
Old Tom Young, in his rocking chair, said:
"A card to go to Lilac Hill. It says 'important.' Ah! This Youth of today! I'll put up a dollar that I can sniff a rat in this. Butmygirl is all right, so I'll go."
And so it was, all around town. Nobody could fathom it.
Lilac Hill was as charming a spot as any that our big City Park could boast. Though known as a hill, it was but a slight knoll with surroundings of lilac shrubs, which, in May would always show a riot of bloom; this knoll sloping down to a pond, with islands, boats and aquatic plants. Lilac Hill had known many a picnic and similar outings; for Branton Hills folks, living for six days amidst bricks and asphalt, justhadto go out on Sundays to this dainty knoll, living for an hour or so amongst its birds, blossoms and calm surroundings. City traffic was far away, only a faint rumbling coming to this natural sanctuary; and many a mind, and many a worn body had found a balm in its charms.
But that mystifying card! From whom was it? What was it?Whywas it? "Oh, hum! Why rack brains by digging into it?" was Branton Hills' popular thought. "But,—go and find out!" That, also, was our Organization's thought as May sixth was approaching.
"My gracious!" said Nancy. "It sounds actually spooky!"
But calm, practical Kathlyn said:—
"Spooks don't hop around in daylight."
May sixth had just that warm and balmy air that allows girls to put on flimsy, dainty things,and youths to don sports outfits; and His Honor, as that mystifying day was not far off, said:—
"This, I think, is a trick by a kid or two, to show us old ducks that an 'incog' can hold out, right up to its actual consummation. I don't know a thing about what's going on; but, by golly! I'll show up; and if any fun is afloat, I'll join in, full blast."
But!!—— As our Organization boys and girls, and Branton Hills folks got to Lilac Hill,not a thing was foundgiving any indication that anything out of ordinary was to occur! Just that calm, charming knoll, with its lilacs, oaks, and happy vista out across Branton Hills' hill districts! Whatisthis, anyway? A hoax? But all sat down, talking in a big group, until, at just four o'clock,—look!A stir, out back of that island boat landing! What? On thatpond? This card said LilacHill!But I said that a stir was occurring in back of that boat landing, with its small shack for storing oars and such. If our big crowd was laughing and talking up to now, itquit!And quit mighty quickly, too! If you want to hold a crowd, just mystify it. Old Lady Flanagan was starting to shout about "this phony stuff," but Old Man Flanagan said:—
"Shut up! You ain't part of this show!"
Nancy was actually hopping up and down, but Kathlyn stood calmly watching; for this studiousgirl, way up in an "ology" or two, knows that, by slow, thoughtful watching, you can gain much, as against working up a wild, panicky condition. Lady Gadsby said again and again: "Whatisgoing on?" but Nina Adams said: "You ought to know that today, anything can——"
Butlook again!!From in back of that boat landing, a big fairy float is coming! Slowly,—slowly—slowly; a cabin amidships, justdrippingwith lilacs, as still and noncommittal as old Gibraltar. Slowly, on and on it is coming; finally stopping right at that spot upon which our group is standing; forty boys, forty girls, and a big mob, all as still as a church. Whatisit, anyway? Is anybody in it? Not a sign of it. But wait! Aha! Ithasan occupant, for, coming out of that lilac glory is——Parson Brown!!Parson Brown?Whatwas Parson Brown in that cabin for? Aha!! A lilac spray is moving; and, as our groups stand stock still,look!Lucy Donaldson is coming out! Oh!Whata vision of girlish joy and glory!! And—and—and, ah! That lilac spray is moving again! Hulloa! Bill Gadsby is coming out!!
A Spring sun was slowly approaching its horizonward droop, shooting rays of gold down onto our gasping crowd, as Parson Brown said:—
"William Gadsby, do you...?"
William, but shortly back from abroad, you know, standing with grand, military rigidity, said:
"I do."
"And Lucy Donaldson, do you...?"
It didn't last long. Just a word or two; a burst of music of a famous march by John Smith, Branton Hills' organist, in that cabin with a small piano; just a—— But that crowd couldn't wait for that! With a whoop His Honor sprang into that pond, wading swiftly to board that fairy craft; and in an instant Nancy was following him, splashing frantically along, and scrambling aboard to almost floor Bill with a gigantic hug as His Honor shook Bill's hand, with a loving arm about Lucy. Old Lady Flanagan was shouting wildly:—
"Whoops! Whoops! By gorra! This young gang of today is a smart boonch!" and His Honor said:—
"Ha, ha! I didn't know a thing about this! Bill's a smart chap!" And Old Tom Donaldson, grabbing happy, laughing, blushing, palpitating Lucy as soon as that young lady was on dry land, said:—
"Say! You sly young chick! Why didn't you notify your old Dad?"
"Why, Daddy! That would spoil all my fun!"
Gadsby, Clancy andDowd "just had" to, according to unanimous opinion, go out to Lady Standish's suburban plot of ground to visit "Big Four;" Gadsby, owing to an inborn liking for all animals; Clancy and Dowd from fond association with this particular group. It was a glorious spot; high, rolling land, with a patch of cool, shady woods, and a grand vista across hill and plain, with shining ponds and rich farm lands. And did "Big Four"knowClancy and Dowd? I'll say so! And soon, with much happy whinnying and "acting up," with two big roans poking inquiring snouts in Clancy's hands, and two big blacks snuggling Gadsby and Dowd, as happy a group of Man and animals as you could wish for, was soon accompanying Lady Standish around that vast patch.
Anything that such animals could want was at hand. A bright, sparkling brook was gabbling and gurgling through a stony gully, or dropping, with many brilliant rainbows, down a tiny fall.
"Sally," said Gadsby, "you do a grand work in maintaining this spot. If Mankind, as a body, would only think as you do, that an animal has abrain, and knows good living conditions, you wouldn't find so many poor, scraggly old Dobbins plodding around our towns, dragging a cart far too big; and with a man totally without sympathy on it."
And Lady Standish said:—
"I justcan'tthink of anybody abusing an animal; nor of allowing it to stay around, sick, hurt or hungry. I think that an animal is but a point short of human; and, having a skin varying but slightly from our own, will know as much pain from a whipping as would a human child. A blow uponanyanimal, if I am within sight, is almost as a blow upon my own body. You would think that, with that vast gap which Mankind is continually placing back of him in his onward march in improving this big world, Man would think, a bit, of his pals of hoof, horn and claw. But I am glad to say that, in this country, laws in many a community admit that an animal has rights. Oh, how an animal that is hurt looks up at you, John! An animal's actions can inform you if it is in pain. It don't hop and jump around as usual. No. You find a sad, crouching, cringing, small bunch of fur or hair, whining, and plainly asking you to aid it. It isn't hard to find out what is wrong, John; any man or woman who would pass by such a sight, justisn't worth knowing. I just can't withstand it! Why, I think that not only animals, but plants can know pain. I carry a drink to many a poor, thirsty growing thing; or, if it is torn up I put it kindly back, and fix its soil up as comfortably as I can.Anythingthat is living, John, is worthy of Man's aid."
Poor old BillSimpkins! Nothing in this world was worth anything; nobody was right; all wrong, all wrong! Simpkins had no kin; and, not marrying, was "just plodding along," living in a small room, with no fun, no constant company, no social goal to which to look forward; and had, thus, grown into what boys call "a big, old grouch." But it wasn't all Simpkins' fault. A human mind was built for contact with similar minds. It should,—in fact,—itmustthink about what is going on around it; for, if it is shut up in a thick, dark, bony box of a skull, it will always stay in that condition known as "status quo;" and grow up, antagonistic to all surroundings. But Simpkins didn'twantto growl and grunt. It was practically as annoying to him as to folks around him. But, as soon as that shut-up, solitary mind found anybody wanting it to do anything in confirmation of public opinion,—no! that mind would contract, as a snail in its spiral armor—and balk.
Lady Gadsby and His Honor, in talking about this, had thought of improving such a condition; but Simpkins was not a man to whom you could broach such a thought. It would only bringforth an outburst of sarcasm about "trying it on your own brain, first." So Branton Hills' Council always had so to word a "motion" as to, in a way, blind Simpkins as to its import. Many such a motion had a hard fight showing him its valuation as a municipal law; such as our big Hall of Natural History, our Zoo, and so on.
Now nothing can so light up such a mind as a good laugh. Start a man laughing, good, long and loud, and his mind's grimy windows will slowly inch upward; snappy, invigorating air will rush in, and—lo! that old snarling, ugly grouch will vanish as hoar-frost in a warm Spring thaw!
And so it got around, on a bright Spring day, to Old Bill sitting on Gadsby's front porch; outwardly calm, and smoking a good cigar (which didn't blow up!), but, inwardly just full of snarls and growls about Branton Hills' Youth.
"Silly half-grown young animals, found out that two plus two is four, and thinking thatallthings will fit, just that way!"
Now that small girl, "of about six," who had had Nancy's baby out in City Park, was passing Gadsby's mansion, and saw Old Bill. A kid of six has, as you probably know, no formally laid-out plan for its daily activity; anything bobbing up will attract. So, with this childish instability ofthought, this tiny miss ran up onto Gadsby's porch and stood in front of Old Bill, looking up at him, but saying not a word.
"Huh!" Bill justhadto snort. "Looking at anything?"
"No, sir."
"What!!Oh, that is, you think 'not much,' probably. What do you want, anyway?"
"I want to play."
"All right; run along and play."
"No; I want to play withyou."
"Pooh!!That's silly. I'm an old man. An old man can't play."
"Can, too. My Grandpa can."
"But I'm not your Grandpa, thank my lucky stars. Run along now; I'm thinking."
"So am I."
"You? Huh! A kid can't think."
"Ooo-o!Ican!"
"About what?"
"About playing with you."
Now Simpkins saw that this was a condition which wouldn't pass with scowling or growling, but didn't know what to do about it. Play with a kid?What?Councilman Simpkins pl——
But into that shut-up mind, through a partially,—onlypartially,—rising window, was waftinga back thought of May Day in City Park; and that happy, singing, marching ring of tots around that ribbon-wound mast. Councilman Simpkins was in that ring.
So this thought got to tramping round and round many a musty corridor in his mind; throwing up a window, "busting in" a door, and shoving a lot of dust and rubbish down a back stairway. Round and round it ran, until, (!!) Old Bill, slowly and surprisingly softly, said:—
"What do you want to play?"
Oh! Oh! what a victory for that tot!! What a victory forYouth!!And what afallfor grouchy, snarling Maturity!! I think that Simpkins, right at that instant,sawthat bright sunlight coming in through that rising window; rising by baby hands; and from that "bust in" door. I think that Old Bill cast off, in that instant, that hard, gloomy coating of dissatisfaction which was gripping his shut-up mind. And I think,—in fact, Iknow,—that Old Bill Simpkins was now,—that is, was—was—was, oh, just plainhappy!
"What do you want to play?"
"This is a lady, a-going to town."
"Playwhat?"
"My!! Don't you know how to play that? All right; I'll show you. Now just stick out yourfoot. That's it. Now I'll sit on it, so. Now you bump it up and down. Ha, ha! Ho, ho! That's it! This is a lady, a-going to town, a-going to town, a-going to town!" and as that tiny lady sang that baby song gaily and happily, Old Bill was actually laughing; and laughinguproariously, too!
As this sight was occurring, His Honor and Lady Gadsby, looking out from a parlor window, Gadsby said, happily:—
"A lady physician is working on Old Bill," causing Lady Gadsby to add:—
"And a mighty good doctor, too."