Part 8

"Aha!! And a Ho, Ho!!" said Sarah, laughing gayly. "So folks had what you call 'affairs' way back, just as today!" and also laughing inwardly, at what Lucy had said about this kindly Lady Standish and His Honor.

Ah! That good old schoolday, now so long past! How it bobs up, now-a-days, if you watch a young lad and a happy, giggling lass holding hands or laughing uproariously at youthful witticisms. And how diaphanous and almost imaginary that far-back day looks, if that girl with whom you stood up and said "I do," laughs, if you try a bit of romantic kissing, and says:--

"Why, John! How silly! You act actually childish!!"

* * * * *

And now it won't do any harm to hark back a bit on this history, to find how our big Night School is doing. Following that first graduation day, many and many a child, and adult, too, had put in hours on various nights; and if you visit it you will find almost as many forms of instruction going on as you will find pupils; for thousands of folks today know of topics which, with a bit of study, could turn out profitably. Now Branton Hills had, as you know, built this school for public instruction; and, as with all such institutions, visiting days occur. And _what_ a display of goods and workmanship! And what bright, happy pupils, standing proudly back of it! For mankind knows hardly a joy which will surpass that of approval of his work.

Gadsby's party first took in a wood-working shop; finding small stands which fit so happily into many a living room nook; book racks for walls or floor; moth-proof bins, smoking stands, many with fancy uprights or inlaid tops; high chairs for tiny tots; arm chairs for old folks; cribs, tobacco humidors, stools, porch and lawn swings, ballbats, rolling pins, mixing boards; in fact about anything that a man can fashion from wood.

As an indication of practical utility coming from such public instruction, a man told Gadsby:--

"I didn't know much about wood-working tools until I got into this class. This thing I am making would cost about thirty dollars to buy, but all it cost, so far, is two dollars and a half, for wood and glass," which Gadsby thought was worth knowing about; as so many of his Council had put forth so many complaints against starting such a school without charging for instruction. In an adjoining room His Honor's party found boys banging and pounding happily; and, if you should ask,--noisily,--on brasswork: making bowls, trays, lamp standards, photograph stands, book supports and similar artistic things. Across from that was a blacksmith shop, with its customary flying sparks and sizzling cooling-vats.

But, by going upstairs, away from all this din, Gadsby, humming happily, found Sarah and Lucy, Nancy and Kathlyn amidst a roomful of girls doing dainty fancy-work. And what astonishing ability most of that group _did_ show! Nancy bought a baby-cap which was on a par with anything in Branton Hills' shops; and though Kathlyn said it was "just too cunning for anything", John Smith's bungalow didn't contain anybody (just now!) whom it would fit.

But Lady Gadsby, with a party of Branton Hills matrons, was calling for Gadsby to hurry down a long corridor to a loom-room, saying that such dainty rugs, mats and scarfs of cotton and silk hung all around on walls or racks, it was truly astonishing that girls could do such first-class work, having had long hours of labor in Broadway's shops all day.

Although most of our standard occupations found room for activity, an occasional oddity was run across. So His Honor's party found two boys and two girls working at that always fascinating art of glass-blowing. And what a dainty trick it is! And what an opportunity to burn a thumb or two, if you don't wait for things to cool! Things of charming form _and_ fragility, grow as by a magician's wand, from small glass tubings of various colors. Birds with glorious wings, ships of crystal sailing on dark billows, tiny buildings in a thick glass ball which upon agitation, stirs up a snowstorm which softly lands on pink roof-tops; many a fancy drinking glass and bowl, oil lamps, ash trays, and gaudy strings of tiny crystal balls for adorning party gowns. And did Nancy want to buy out this shop? And did Frank doubt his ability to do so? And did Kathlyn ask: "How about it, Johnny?" and did John Smith say: "Nothing doing"? It was just that. But it only shows that good old Branton Hills' inclination for aiding anything which looks worthy; and such a school I know you will admit, looks that way.

Tramping upstairs, still again, Gadsby and party found a class so varying from all downstairs as to bring forth murmurs of joy, for this was known as "Music Floor"; upon which was taught all forms of that most charming of all arts--from solo work to community singing, from solitary violin pupil to a full brass band. On our party's arrival, Lucy, Doris and Virginia, hurrying from classrooms, sang, in trio, that soft, slow Italian song, "O Solo Mio;" and, as Gadsby proudly said, "Not for many a day had such _music_ rung out in Branton Hills;" for most girls, if in training with a practical vocalist, _can_ sing; and most charmingly, too.

In a far room was a big string outfit of banjos, mandolins and guitars, happily strumming out a smart, throbbing Spanish fandango, until His Honor could not avoid a swinging of body and tapping of foot; causing Lady Gadsby to laugh, saying:--

"Rhythm has a mighty grip on Zulus, I am told."

To which our swaying Mayor said:--

"Anyway, a Zulu has a lot of fun out of it. If singing, playing and dancing could only crowd out sitting around and moping, folks would find that a Zulu can hand us a tip or two on happy living."

But all music is not of string form; so, in a big auditorium, our party found a full brass band of about fifty boys, with a man from Branton Hills' Municipal Band as instructor. Now as Gadsby was, as you boys say, "not at all bad" on a big bass horn in his youthful days, this band instructor, thinking of it, was asking him to "sit it" and play. So, as Lady Gadsby, two girls, and two sons-in-law sat smiling and giggling in a front row, and as fifty boys could hardly play, from laughing, that big horn got such a blasting that it was practically a horn solo! And Nancy, doubling up from giggling, said:--

"D-d-daddy! If-f-f-f B-b-b-barnum's circus hits town, you must join its cl-cl-clown band!"

But I had to rush this happy party out of that building, as an awful thing was occurring but a block from it; which told its own story by a lurid light, flashing through windows; clanging gongs, shrilling horns and running, shouting crowds; for an old, long-vacant factory building just across from City Hall, was blazing furiously. Rushing along Broadway was that "motor thing," with Clancy and Dowd clinging wildly on a running board. Pulling up at a hydrant, Clancy said to His Honor:--

"As I was a-hangin' onto this dom thing, a-thinkin' it was going to bang into a big jam at two crossroads, I says, By Gorra! that big pair of blacks wouldn't bang into _nuthin'!_ But this currazy contraption! It ain't got no brain--no nuthin', no soul--nuthin' but halitosis!!"

As Gadsby took a long look at Clancy's "dom thing," a vision was wafting through his mind of a calm, sunny patch of land, way out in Branton Hills' suburbs, on which day by day, two big blacks and two big roans could--anyway, taking all things into account, a big conflagration, with its din, rush and panic, is no spot for such animals as "Big Four." As for Old Bill's squawk about animals "ruining our paving," Gadsby thought that was but small talk, for paving, anyway, can't last for long. But, that _is_ a glorious spot, way out amongst our hills!

Gadsby took his party to a room in City Hall from which that burning factory was in plain sight; and as Nancy and Kathlyn stood watching that awful sight a big wall, crashing down, had a crowd rushing to that spot.

A man's form was brought out to a patrol wagon; and a boy, rushing past City Hall, sang out to Gadsby:--

"It's Old Man Donaldson!!"

Tiny Nancy, almost swooning, said:--

"Donaldson? Oh, Kathy! That's Lucy's Dad, of Company Two, you know!" and Frank and John Smith shot wildly downstairs to find out about it. In an instant a sobbing girlish form was dashing madly from that Night School building towards our Municipal Hospital. It was Lucy; bright, always laughing Lucy; but half an hour ago singing so happily in that girls' trio.

As that big factory was still blazing furiously, Frank and John, coming in, said:--

"It was only a scalp wound, and a sprung wrist. Lucy is coming upstairs, now."

Lucy, coming in, badly blown from running and fright, said:--

"That wall caught Daddy; but it was so old and thin it didn't crush him. Oh! _How_ I worry if that alarm rings!"

"But," put in Nancy, "it's _man's_ work. Pshaw!! What good am _I_? Why, I couldn't do a thing around that factory, right now! Look at my arm! About as big as a ball bat!" and as Frank took that sad, tiny form in his arms, Gadsby said:--

"All throughout Natural History, Nancy, you will find man built big and strong, and woman small and frail. That is so that man can obtain food for his family, and that woman may nourish his offspring. But today, I am sorry to say, you'll find girls working hard, in gymnasiums, fondly hoping to attain man's muscular parity. How silly!! It's going straight against all natural laws. Girls _can_ find a lot of bodily good in gymnasiums, I'll admit! but _not_ that much. And as for your 'ball-bat' arm, as you call it, what of it? You'd look grand, now wouldn't you, with Frank's big oak-branch arms hanging way down to your shins. But that ball-bat arm can curl around your tiny baby as softly as a down pillow. Aw, darling! _Don't_ say you can't do anything; for _I_ know you can. How about our old Organization of Youth days? You,----"

And Nancy, now laughing, said, gaily:--

"Oho! Our old Organization! What fun it was! But, Daddy, I don't know of any young crowd following us up."

"No. Our young folks of today think such things too much work;" and, as that old factory was but a mass of ruins now, and midnight was approaching, Gadsby's family was soon in that mythical Land of Nod, in which no horns blow, no sparks fall; only occasionally a soft gurgling from a crib in Nancy's bungalow.

XIX

It is an odd kink of humanity which cannot find any valuation in spots of natural glory. But such kinks do run riot in Man's mind, occasionally, and Branton Hills ran up against such, on a Council night; for a bill was brought up by Old Bill Simpkins for disposal of City Park to a land company, for building lots! At first word of such a thought, Gadsby was totally dumb, from an actual impossibility of thinking that any man, bringing up such a bill, wasn't plumb crazy!

"_What!_ Our main Park; including our Zoo?"

"Just that," said Simpkins. "Just a big patch of land, and a foolish batch of animals that do nobody any good. You can't hitch a lion up to a city dump cart, you know; nor a hippopotamus to a patrol wagon. What good is that bunch of hair and horns, anyway? And that park! _Bah!!_ Just grass, grass, grass! Branton Hills pays for planting that grass, pays for sprinkling it, pays for cutting it--and _throws it away!_ So I say, put it into building lots, and draw good, solid cash from it."

An Italian Councilman, Tony Bandamita, was actually boiling during this outburst; and, in a flash, as Simpkins quit, was up, shouting:--

"I gotta four bambinos. My bambinos playa in thatta park: run, jumpa and rolla. Grow bigga an' strong. My woman say no coulda do thatta if playa all day on bricka walks. I say no buncha land sharks buya thatta Park!! How many you guys go to it, anyway? Huh? Notta many! But _go!!_ Walk around; sniffa its blossoms; look at grand busha; sit on softa grass! You do thatta, an' _I_ know you not stick no building on it!!"

So, at Mayor Gadsby's instigation, Council did not ballot on Simpkins' bill; and said it would go, as Tony thought only right, and "look atta gooda busha."

In a day or two this pompous body of solons was strolling about that big park. No man with half a mind could fail to thrill at its vistas of shrubs, ponds, lawns, arbors, fancy fowl, small pavilions and curving shady pathways. As Gadsby was "takinga his owna looka," Old Bill Simpkins, coming a-snorting and a-fussing along, sang out, gruffly:--

"All right; this is it! This is that grand patch of grass that pays Branton Hills no tax!"

But Gadsby was thinking--and thinking hard, too. Finally saying:--

"Bill, supposing that any day you should walk along that big Pathway known in Sunday School as 'Our Straight But Narrow Way.' You would find coming towards you, all sorts of folks: a king, roaring past in his big chariot, a capitalist with his hands full of bonds, an old, old lady, on a crutch. Such passings would bring to you various thoughts. But, supposing it was a possibility that you saw _Bill Simpkins_ coming your way. Aha! What an opportunity to watch that grouchy old--"

"That _what_?"

"I'll say it again: that grouchy old crab. How you _would_ gawk at him, that most important of all folks, to you. How you would look at his clothing, his hat, his boots! That individual would pass an inquiry such as you had not thought it a possibility to put a man up against. Bill, I think that if you _should_ pass Councilman Simpkins on that Big Pathway, you would say: 'What a grouchy old crittur that was!'"

Old Bill stood calmly during this oration, and, looking around that big park, said:--

"John, you know how to talk, all right, all right. I'll admit that things you say do do a lot of good around this town. But if I should run across this guy you talk about, on that vaporous highway, or 'boardwalk', as _I_ should call it,--I'd say, right out good and loud: Hi! You!! Hurry back to Branton Hills and put up a block of buildings in that silly park!" and Gadsby, walking away, saw that an inborn grouch is as hard to dig out as a wisdom tooth.

Now this Council's visit on this particular day, was a sly plan of Gadsby's, for His Honor is, you know, Youth's Champion, and having known many an occasion on which Youth has won out against Council opposition. So, our big City officials, strolling around that park, soon saw a smooth lawn upon which sat, stood, or ran, almost a thousand small tots of from four to six. In dainty, flimsy outfits, many carrying fairy wands, it was a sight so charming as to thaw out a brass idol! Amidst this happy party stood a tall shaft, or mast, having hanging from its top a thick bunch of long ribbons, of pink, lilac, gray, and similar dainty colors; and around it stood thirty tots--thirty tiny fists all agog to grasp thirty gay ribbons. Old Bill took a look, and said, growlingly, to His Honor:--

"What's all this stuff, anyway?"

"Bill, and Branton Hills' Council," said Gadsby, "today is May Day--that day so symbolic of budding blossoms, mating birds and sunny sky. You all know, or _ought_ to, of that charming custom of childhood of toddling round and round a tall mast in and out, in and out,--thus winding gay ribbons about it in a spiral. That is but a small part of what this Park can do for Branton Hills. But it is an important part; for happy childhood grows up into happy adults, and happy adults"--looking right at Councilman Simpkins--"_can_ form a happy City Council."

Now a kid is always a kid; and a kid knows just how any sport should go. So, just by luck, a tot who was to hold a gay ribbon didn't show up; and that big ring stood waiting, for that round-and-round march _just couldn't_ start with a ribbon hanging down! But a kid's mind is mighty quick and sharp; and a small tot of four had that kind of mind, saying:--

"Oh! That last ribbon! Isn't anybody going to hold it?"

Now historians shouldn't laugh. Historians should only put down what occurs. But I, _your_ historian of Branton Hills, not only had to laugh, but to _roar_; for this tot, worrying about that hanging ribbon, saw our big pompous Council group looking on. Now a Council is nothing to a tot of four; just a man or two, standing around. So, trotting up and grasping Old Bill's hand, this tot said:

"_You'll_ hold it, won't you?"

"_What!!_" and Simpkins was all colors on throat and brow as Branton Hills' Council stood, grinning. But that baby chin was straining up, and a pair of baby arms was pulling, oh, _so_ hard; and, in a sort of coma, big, pompous, grouchy Councilman Simpkins took that hanging ribbon! A band struck up a quick march, and round and round trod that happy, singing ring, with Old Bill looming up as big as a mountain amongst its foothills! Laugh? I thought His Honor would _burst!_

As that ribbon spiral got wound, Simpkins, coming back, said, with a growl:--

"I was afraid I would tramp on a kid or two in that silly stunt."

"It wasn't silly, Bill," said Gadsby. "It was _grand!_" And Tony Bandamita sang out:--

"Gooda work, Councilmanna! My four bambinos walka right in fronta you, and twista ribbons!"

Simpkins, though, would only snort, and pass on.

XX

On a warm Sunday, Kathlyn and Julius, poking around in Branton Hills' suburbs, occasionally found an odd formation of fossilization, installing it amidst our Hall of Natural History's displays. Shortly following such an installation, a famous savant on volcanic activity noting a most propitious rock formation amongst Julius' groups, thought of cutting into it; for ordinary, most prosaic rocks _may_ contain surprising information; and, upon arriving at Branton Hills' railway station, ran across old Pat Ryan, czar of its trunk room.

"Ah, my man! I want to find a lapidary."

"A what?"

"It isn't a 'what,' it's a lapidary."

"Lapidary, is it? Lapidary, lapidary, lapi--lapi--la--. No, I----"

Now this savant was in a hurry, and said, snappily:--

"But a city as big as Branton Hills _has_ a lapidary, I trust!"

"Oh, Branton Hills has a lot of things. But, wait a bit! It ain't a lavatory what you want, is it?"

But at this instant, to old Pat's salvation, Kathlyn, passing by, said:--

"All right, Pat. I know about this;" and, both taking a taxi, old Pat walking round and round, scratching his bald crown, was murmuring:

"Lapid----Aho! I got it! It's probably a crittur up at that zoo! I ain't forgot that hop, skip and jump, walloping Australian tornado! And now His Honor has put in a lapidary!! I think I'll go up with that old canvas bag! But why all sich high-brow stuff in naming critturs? This lapidary thing might turn out only a rat, or a goofy bug!"

But that _fairy_ bug, Dan Cupid, goofy or not, as you wish, was buzzing around again; and, though this story is not of wild, romantic infatuations, in which rival villains fight for a fair lady's hand, I am bound to say that Cupid has put on an act varying _much_ from his works in Gadsby's mansion; for _this_ arrow from his bow caught two young folks to whom a dollar bill was as long, broad and high as City Hall. Both had to work for a living; but by saving a bit, off and on, Sarah Young, who, you know, with Priscilla Standish first thought of our Night School, and Paul Johnson, who did odd jobs around town, such as caring for lawns, painting and "man-of-all-work," had put by a small bank account. Paul was an orphan, as was Sarah, who had grown up with a kindly old man, Tom Young; his "old woman," dying at about Sarah's fourth birthday. (That word "old woman," is common amongst Irish folks, and is not at all ungracious. It _had_ to crawl into this story, through orthographical taboos, you know.) But Sarah, now a grown young lady, had that natural longing for a spot in which a woman might find that joy of living, in having "things to do for just us two" if bound by Cupid's gift--matrimony.

Many a day in passing that big church of Nancy's grand display, or Gadsby's rich mansion, Sarah had thought fondly about such things; for, as with any girl, marrying amidst blossoms, glamour and organ music was a goal, to attain which was actual bliss. But such rituals call for cash; and lots of it, too. Also, Old Tom Young had no room in any way fit for such an occasion.

So Sarah would walk past, possibly a bit sad, but looking forward to a coming happy day. And it wasn't so far off. My, no! As Nancy had thought April was "a million months long," Sarah's days swung past in a dizzy whirl; during which, in company with Paul on Saturday nights, a small thing or two was happily bought for that "Cupid's Coop," as both found a lot of fun in calling it. But Sarah naturally had girl chums, just as Nancy and Kathlyn had; for most of that old Organization was still in town; and many a gift found its way to this girl who, though poor in worldly goods, was as rich as old King Midas in a bright, happy disposition; for anybody who didn't know that magic captivation of Sarah Young's laugh, that rich crown of light, fluffy hair, or that grand, proud, upright walk, wasn't amongst Branton Hills' population. Paul, scratching around shady paths, a potato patch or two, front yards, back yards, and city parks, was known to many an old family man; who upon knowing of his coming variation in living conditions, thought way, way back to his own romantic youth; so Paul, going to Sarah at night, brought small but practical gifts for that "coop."

As Sarah and Paul stood in front of City Hall on a hot July night, Sarah scanning Branton Hills' "Post" for "vacant rooms," who should walk up but His Honor! And that kindly hand shot out with:--

"Aha! If it isn't Paul and Sarah! What's Sarah hunting for, Paul?"

"Sarah is looking for a room for us, sir."

"_Us_? Did you say 'us'? Oho! H-mmm! I'm on! How soon will you want it?"

"Oh," said Sarah, blushing, "not for about a month."

"But," said His Honor, "you shouldn't start out in _a_ room. You would want from four to six I should think."

Sarah, still ogling that "rooms" column said, softly:--

"Four to six rooms? That's just grand if you can afford such. But,----"

"Wait!" said Gadsby, who, taking Paul's and Sarah's arms, and strolling along, told of a small six-room bungalow of his, just around from Nancy's.

"And you two will pay just nothing a month for it. It's yours, from front porch to roof top, as a gift to two of my most loyal pals."

And instantly a copy of Branton Hills' "Post" was blowing across Broadway in a fluky July wind!

Now, as this young pair was to start out frugally, it wouldn't do to lay out too much for, as Sarah said, "about forty words by a pastor, and a kiss."

So only Priscilla stood up with Sarah; and Bill Gadsby, in all his sartorial glory, with Paul, in Parson Brown's small study; both girls in dainty morning clothing; Sarah carrying a bunch of gay nasturtiums, claiming that such warm, bright colorings would add as much charm to that short occasion as a thousand dollars' worth of orchids. Now, such girls as Sarah, with that capacity for finding satisfaction so simply, don't grow as abundantly as hollyhocks--and Paul found that Gadsby's old Organization was a group knowing what a dollar is: just a dollar.

XXI

Occasionally a sight bobs up without warning in a city, which starts a train of thought, sad or gay, according to how you look at it. And so, Lucy, Priscilla, and Virginia Adams, walking along Broadway, saw a crowd around a lamp post, upon which was a patrol-box; and, though our girls don't customarily follow up such sights, Lucy saw a man's form sprawling flat up against that post, as limp as a rag. Priscilla said, in disgust:--

"_Ugh!!_ It's Norman Antor! Drunk again!!" and Virginia, hastily grasping both girls' arms and hurrying past, said:--

"So!! His vacation in jail didn't do him any good! But, still, it's too bad. Norman is a good looking, manly lad, with a good mind and a thorough schooling. And _now_ look at him! A _common drunk!!_"

Priscilla was sad, too, saying:--