Oh, hum! I’ll turn from this happy affair now and try to find out what was going on in this thriving, hustling city. Now you probably think of a city as a gigantic thing; for, if you go up onto a high hill, and look around across that vast array of buildings, parks, roads and distant suburbs, you not only think that it is a gigantic thing, you know it is. But, is it?

Just stop and think a bit. All such things as bulk, or width, you know by comparison only; comparison with familiar things. So, just for fun, go up in an imaginary balloon, about half way to that old Moon, which has hung aloft from your birth—(and possibly a day or two in addition)— and look down upon your “gigantic” city. How will it look? It is a small patch of various colors; but you know that, within that tiny patch, many thousands of your kind hurry back and forth; railway trains crawl out to far-away districts; and, if you can pick out a grain of dust that stands out dimly in a glow of sunlight, you may know that it is your mansion, your cabin or your hut, according to your financial status. Now, if that hardly shows up, how about you? What kind of a dot would you form in comparison? You must admit that your past thoughts as to your own pomposity will shrink just a bit! All this shows us that could this big World think, it wouldn’t know that such a thing as Man was on it. And Man thinks that his part in all this unthinkably vast Cosmos is important! Why, you poor shrimp! if this old World wants to twitch just a bit and knock down a city or two, or split up a group of mountains, Man, with all his brain capacity, can only clash wildly about, dodging falling bricks. No. You wouldn’t show up from that balloon as plainly as an ant, in crawling around our Capitol building at Washington.

But why all this talk about our own inconspicuosity? It is simply brought up to accompany Nancy’s thoughts as that train shot across country; for Nancy, until now, had not known anything approaching such a trip. So this happy, happy trip, back upon which many a woman looks, with a romantic thrill, was astounding to such a girl. From Branton Hills to San Francisco; a boat to Honolulu, Manila, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Colombo, and finally Cairo. Ah ! Cairo!! In thinking of it you naturally bring up two words —“Pyramids” and “Sphinx”, words familiar from school days. Practically from birth, Nancy, along with millions of folks, had known that famous illustration of a thing half lion and half woman; and a mountainous mass of masonry, built for a king’s tomb. So, standing right in front of both, Nancy and Frank got that wondrous thrill coming from attaining a long, long wish. From Cairo to Italy, Spain, London, Paris, and that grand Atlantic sail, landing at Boston, and hustling by fast train (but how slow it did go!!) to Branton Hills! So, along about Thanksgiving Day, about half of its population was again at its big railway station, for Nancy was coming back. (And Frank, too, if anybody should ask you.)

And with that big Municipal Band a-booming and blaring, and a crowd of our old Organization girls pushing forward, did Branton Hills look good to Nancy? And did Nancy look good to Branton Hills What a glorious tan, from days and days on shipboard! And was that old Atlantic ugly? Ask Frank, poor chap, who, as on that big Pacific, had found out just what a ship’s rail is for! And that stomachs can turn most amazing flip-flops if an old boat is too frisky!

In just an instant, actual count, Nancy was in Lady Gadsby’s arms , fighting valiantly to hold back a flood of big, happy sobs; and Frank was busy, grabbing a cloud of hands surging towards him.

Coming back from a long trip is a happy occasion. And it is also mighty good to put a trunk or a bag down, knowing that it will “stay put” for a day or two, anyway. That constant packing and unpacking on a long trip, soon turns into an automatic function; and how Nancy did worry about what transportation customs in various lands would do to a first class trunk which has a romantic history, owing to its coming as a matrimonial gift from a group of loving girls. But now; ah! Put it away, and your things around, in familiar disposal.

Long trips do bring lots of fun and information; but a truly long trip is tiring, both in body and mind.

But Nancy and Frank won’t stay with Gadsby long; for, during that trip, a charming bungalow was built on a lot of Gadsby’s, facing City Park; and Nancy put in many days arranging things in it. Anybody who has had such joyful work to do, knows how assiduously a young pair would go about it; for two young robins carrying bits of cotton and string up to a criss-cross of twigs in a big oak, with constant soft, loving chirps, “had nothing,” according to our popular slang, on Nancy and Frank.

Finally “moving in day” got around, with that customary party, to which you carry a gift to add to such things as a young husband on only a small salary can install. And how gifts did pour in!! Rugs, chairs, small stands, urns, clocks, photos in wall mountings, dainty scarfs (all hand-work by our girls in our Night School), books, lamps, a “radio” from Station KBH, until, finally, a big truck found an opportunity in that coming and going throng to back in and unload an upright piano, all satin ribbon wrappings, with a card “From Branton Hills’ Municipal Band.”



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Books with no spinal columns.