Part 11

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. But _my_ girl 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, just _had_ to 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? _Why_ was 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 found_ giving 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! What _is_ this, 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 that _pond_? This card said Lilac _Hill!_ 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, it _quit!_ 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 studious girl, 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: "What _is_ going on?" but Nina Adams said: "You ought to know that today, anything can----"

But _look again!!_ From in back of that boat landing, a big fairy float is coming! Slowly,--slowly--slowly; a cabin amidships, just _dripping_ with 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. What _is_ it, anyway? Is anybody in it? Not a sign of it. But wait! Aha! It _has_ an occupant, for, coming out of that lilac glory is----_Parson Brown!!_ Parson Brown? _What_ was 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! _What_ a 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!"

XXXIV

Gadsby, Clancy and Dowd "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" _know_ Clancy 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 a brain, 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 just _can't_ think 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 upon _any_ animal, 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, just isn'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. _Anything_ that is living, John, is worthy of Man's aid."

XXXV

Poor old Bill Simpkins! 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,--it _must_ think 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't _want_ to 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 bring forth 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 that _all_ things 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 of thought, 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 just _had_ to 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 with _you_."

"_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! _I_ can!"

"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,--_only_ partially,--rising window, was wafting a 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 for _Youth!!_ And what a _fall_ for grouchy, snarling Maturity!! I think that Simpkins, right at that instant, _saw_ that 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, I _know_,--that Old Bill Simpkins was now,--that is, was--was--was, oh, just plain _happy!_

"What do you want to play?"

"This is a lady, a-going to town."

"Play _what_?"

"My!! Don't you know how to play that? All right; I'll show you. Now just stick out your foot. 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 laughing _uproariously_, 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."

XXXVI

It was night again. That small Salvation Army group was parading and singing. A young girl would soon start a long oration against drink. Now boys, gawking as boys always do, saw a shadowy form of a man slinking along from doorway to doorway, plainly watching this marching group, but also, plainly trying to stay out of sight. A halt, a song or two, and Mary Antor was soon walking towards Old Lady Flanagan's cabin. But!! In passing big, dark City Park, a man, rushing wildly up, wrapping that frail form in a cast-iron grip, planting kiss upon kiss upon Mary's lips, finally unwound that grip and stood stiffly in military saluting position. Mary, naturally in a bad fright, took a short, anxious, inquiring look, and instantly, all that part of City Park actually _rang_ with a wild girlish cry:--

"_Norman!!!_"

"Hulloa, kiddo! Just got in, half an hour ago, on a small troop train; and, by luck, saw you marching in that group. _Wow!!_ But you do look _grand!_"

"And you look grand, too, Norman; but--but--but--not drunk?"

"No, sis! Not for many a day now. Saw too much of it in camp. Big, grand, corking good chaps down and out from it. Days and days in jail, military jail, you know, and finally finding a 'bad conduct' stamp on Company books. No, sir; I'm off it, _for good!_"

* * * * *

On old Lady Flanagan's porch Mary sat way past midnight with, no, not with Norman, only, but with _two_ khaki-clad boys; and it was miraculous that that small, loving childish bosom could hold so much joy! Old Lady Flanagan in nightgown and cap, looking down a front stairway, (and Old Man Flanagan, also in nightgown and cap, and also looking down), said:--

"Arrah!! Go _wan_ oop stairs, you snoopin' varmit!"

"_Who's_ a snoopin' varmint? Not _you_, of----"

"Go wan oop, I say! By golly! That darlin' girl has found a mountain of gold wid Norman an'----"

"Who's that wid Norman? That guy's around, nights, now, as--"

"Say, you!! Do you go oop? Or do I swat you?"

XXXVII

Bill Gadsby, going abroad, naturally wasn't on that ballot for Councilman Antor's chair; but this history shows that that mouthy antagonist who had had so much to say about "pink satin ribbons" and "vanilla sprays," didn't win. No. A first class man got that position; old Tom Young, Sarah's Dad, as good an old soul as any in all Branton Hills. And was Sarah happy! Oh, my! And was Sarah proud! Two "oh, mys!" Tiny Nancy, loyal as always to Bill, said:--

"Bill was as good as in, for nobody, knowing my Bill would ballot against him; and Bill would hold that honor now, but for 'Old Glory's' calling."

That's right, Nancy darling, you stick up for Bill; for, though Bill didn't know it until many months, a citation "for outstanding and valorous conduct in action" was soon to go through our National Printing Plant! For a "city fop" or an "outdoor part of a tailor shop" is not always a boob, you know.

Gadsby's mansion was again brightly aglow that night, that "World War flag" not hanging in his window now. And so, on Labor Day night, Lady Gadsby and His Honor, sitting in his parlor, thought that a light footfall was sounding out on his porch. As Gadsby got up to find out about it, Julius, coming in with a young girl, stood looking, grinningly, at Lady Gadsby; who, jumping up, said, happily:--

"Why! Mary Antor!!"

"No, Ma," said Julius. "This is not Mary Antor."

"Not Mary Antor? Why, Julius, I think I know M----"

"Not Mary Antor, Ma, but Mary Gadsby!"

"Oh! Oh! My _darling_ girl!!" and half crying and half laughing, Mary was snuggling in Lady Gadsby's arms; and His Honor, coming in, saying:--

"By golly! That young cuss, Cupid, is mighty busy around this town! Why, I can hardly walk two blocks along Broadway, without a young girl, who has 'grown up in a night,' stopping, and saying: 'Mayor Gadsby, this is my husband.' But I'll say that Cupid's markmanship has always brought about happy matings. And, Mary, you darling kid, your sad, dark shadows will gradually pass; and Lady Gadsby and I will try to bring you loads and loads of comfort. But, say, you, Julius! I didn't know that you and Mary----"

"Ho, ho" said Mary, laughing. "Didn't you know that Julius and Norman and I sat out nights on old Lady Flanagan's porch?"

"Why, no; how should I? I don't go snooping around anybody's porch."

"Ha, ha, Dad," said Julius; "no snooping would find _that_ out. Mary and I had had this plan so long ago that I didn't know a World War was coming!"

XXXVIII

As a small boy, your historian was told that "A king was in his counting room, a-counting out his cash," or similar words, which told, practically, of his taking account of stock. So, also, Gadsby was on his thinking-porch, a-thinking of his past. (A mighty good thing to do, too; if anybody should ask you!)

"If," said His Honor, "you can't find any fun during childhood, you naturally won't look for it as you grow up to maturity. You will grow 'hard,' and look upon fun as foolish. Also, if you don't furnish fun for a child, don't look for it to grow up bright, happy and loving. So, always put in a child's path an opportunity to watch, talk about, and know, as many good things as you can."

Lady Gadsby, from a parlor window, said:

"Practicing for a stumping tour, or a political pow-wow?"

"Ha, ha! No. Just thinking out loud."

So, as thinking cannot hurt anybody, His Honor was soon going on:--

"Affairs which look small or absurd to a full-grown man may loom up as big as a mountain to a child; and you shouldn't allow a fact that you saw a thing 'so much that I am sick of it,' to turn you away from an inquiring child. _You_ wasn't sick of it, on that far-past day on which you first saw it. I always look back, happily and proudly, to taking a small girl to our City Florist's big glass building; to a group at our Night Court; a group finding out about dispatching our mail; and our circus! Boy! That _was_ fun! Our awarding diplomas at City Hall; tiny Marian at our airport's inauguration; our Manual Training School graduation. _All_ that did a big lot toward showing Youth that this big world is 'not half bad,' if adults will but watch, aid, and coach. And I _will not_ stand anybody's snapping at a child! Particularly a tiny tot. If you think that you _must_ snap, snap at a child so big as to snap back. I don't sanction 'talking back' to adults, but, ha, ha! I _did_ find a grand, big _wallop_ in Marian's April Fool cigar! Woo! _Did_ Old Bill jump!! But that did no harm, and a sad young mind found a way to 'match things up' with an antagonist. Now, just stand a child up against your body. How tall is it? Possibly only up to your hip. Still, a man,--or an animal _thinking_ that it is a man--will slap, whip, or viciously _yank_ an arm of so frail, so soft a tiny body! _That_ is what _I_ call a _coward!!_ By golly! almost a _criminal!_ If a tot is what you call naughty, (and no child voluntarily is,) why not lift that young body up onto your lap, and talk--_don't shout_--about what it just did? Shouting gains nothing with a tot. Man can shout at Man, at dogs, and at farm animals; but a man who shouts at a child is, at that instant, _sinking in his own muck of bullyism_; and bullyism is a sin, if anything in this world is. Ah! _Youth!_ You glorious dawn of Mankind! You bright, happy, glowing morning Sun; not at full brilliancy of noon, I know, but unavoidably on your way! _Youth!_ How I do thrill at taking your warm, soft hand; walking with you; talking with you; but, most important of all, _laughing_ with you! _That_ is Man's pathway to glory. A man who drops blossoms in passing, will carry joy to folks along his way; a man who drops crumbs will also do a kindly act; but a man who drops kind words to a sobbing child will find his joy continuing for many a day; for blossoms will dry up; crumbs may blow away; but a kind word to a child may start a blossom growing in that young mind, which will so far surpass what an _un_kindly man might drop, as an orchid will surpass a wisp of grass. Just stop a bit and look back at your footprints along your past pathway. Did you put many humps in that soil which a small child might trip on? Did you angrily slam a door, which might so jolt a high-strung tot as to bring on nights and nights of insomnia? Did you so constantly snarl at it that it don't want you around? In fact, did you put _anything_ in that back-path of yours which could bring sorrow to a child? Or start its distrust of you, as its rightful _guardian_? If so, _go back_ right now, man, and _fix_ up such spots by kindly acts from now on. Or, _jump into a pond, and don't crawl out again!!_ For nobody wants you around!"

Lady Gadsby, as this oration was wafting off amongst lilac shrubs, and across soft, warm lawns, had sat, also thinking; finally coming out onto that ivy-bound porch, and sitting down by His Honor, saying:--

"That was just grand, John, but I was thinking along a path varying a bit from that. You know that Man's brain is _actually_ all of him. All parts of his body, as you follow down from his brain, act simply as aids to it. His nostrils bring him air; his mouth is for masticating his food; his hands and limbs furnish ability for manipulation and locomotion; and his lungs, stomach and all inward organs function _only_ for that brain. If you look at a crowd you say that you saw lots of folks: but if you look at a man bathing in a pond; and if that man sank until only that part from his brow upward was in sight, you might say that you saw nobody; only a man's scalp. But you actually saw a _man_, for a man is only as big as that part still in sight. Now a child's skull, naturally, is not so big as a man's; so its brain has no room for all that vast mass of thoughts which adult brains contain. It is, so to say, in a small room. But, as days and months go by, that room will push its walls outward, and that young brain gradually fill up all that additional room. So, looking for calm, cool thinking in a child is as silly as looking for big, juicy plums amongst frail spring blossoms. Why, oh, _why_ don't folks think of that? _You_ know what foolish sounding things Julius was always asking, as a child. 'How can just rubbing a match light it?' 'Why is it dark at night?' 'Why can't a baby talk?' But, you and I, John, didn't laugh at him. No, not for an instant. And _now_ look at our Julius and our Kathlyn; both famous, just through all that asking; and our aid. John, God _could_ put Man into this world, full-grown. But God don't do so; for God knows that, without a tiny hand to hold, a tiny foot to pat, tiny lips to kiss, and a tiny, warm, wriggling body to hug, Man would know nothing but work."

Gadsby sat smoking for a bit, finally saying:--