NY MAN WITH so 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, you. School out?
On Saturdays, school is always out.
Thats so; it is Saturday, isnt it? Going in?
In!! My, no! I cant go into that fairyland!
No? Why not, pray?
Aw! I dunno; but nobody has took kids
Took? Took? Say, young lady, you must study your grammar book. Branton Hills schools dont
Uh-huh; I know. But a kid just cant
By golly! A kid can! Grab my hand.
Now, many a fairy book has told, in glowing words, of childhoods joys and thrills at amazing sights; but no fairy book could show, in cold print, what Gadsby ran up against as that big door shut, and a child stood stock stilland dumb! Two small arms hung limply down, against a poor, oh, so poor 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, dont 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,
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 dont find blossoms in your yard this month, do you?
If you know childhood you know that thrills dont last long without a call for information. And Gadsby got such a call, with:
No, sir. Is this Gods parlor?
Now Gadsby wouldnt, for anything, spoil a childish thought; so said, kindly:
Its part of it. Gods parlor is awfully big, you know.
My parlor is awfully small; and not any bloss Oh! Wouldnt God ?
Gadsbys 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 buildings paths again and again; round and round, an almost monstrous sigh from an almost bursting tiny bosom, said
Ill think of Gods parlor, always and always and always!! and Gadsby, on glancing upwards, saw a distinct drooping and curving of many stalks; which is a plants 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 only this schoolgirls awfully small parlor, but many such throughout Branton Hills poor districts, soon found a big girl from Gadsbys original Organization of Youth at its front door with plants from that big glass building, in which our City Florist works in Gods parlor. (P.S. Go with a child to your City Florists big glass building. Its a duty!)