Gadsby

XXXVI

"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

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

"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 unkindly 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:—

"Darling, that pair of robins up in that big oak with four young, and you and I in this big building, also with four, know all about what you just said; and, and,—hmmm! It's almost midnight." And His Honor's mansion was soon dark; bathing in soft moonlight.

XXXIX

"You just watch, and mark my word. A woman is in this pudding! Old Bill just couldn't boom out in such a way without having a goal in sight; and I'll put up a dollar on it."

And Lucy, also a woman, said smilingly:—

"And I'll put up a dollar and a half!"

But His Honor and Lady Gadsby, at such talk would look skyward, cough, and say:—

"Possibly a woman; and a mighty young woman, at that."

Now, if anything will "warm up" a public, it is gossip; particularly if it is about mystifying actions of a public man; and this had soon grown to a point at which a particularly curious man or woman thought of going to Old Bill and boldly asking: "Who is it?" But, as I said, what Councilman Simpkins would say to such "butting in" was known to all Branton Hills. No. Councilman Simpkins could doll up and trot around all that that portly Solon might wish; but, so to say, a sign was always hanging from his coat front, saying:—

"Hands off!!"

* * * *

Nina Adams and Virginia sat on Gadsby's porch with Nancy and Kathlyn; and Old Bill was up as a topic. Virginia, constantly smiling and inwardly chuckling, hadn't much to say about our frisky Councilman; and Nancy and Kathlyn couldn't fathom why. But Nina, not so backward, said:

"Pffft! If a man wants to throw old clothing away and buy stylish outfits, what affair is it, but his own? It isn't right so to pick out a man, and turn him into a laughing stock of a city. Old Bill isn't a bad sort; possibly born grouchy; but if a grouchy man or woman, (and I know a bunch of that class in this town!) can pull out of it, and laugh, and find a bit of joy in living, I think it is an occasion for congratulations, not booing."

"Oh," said Kathlyn, "I don't think anybody is booing Councilman Simpkins. But you know that any showing of such an innovation is apt to start gossip. Just why, I don't know. It, though, is a trait of Mankind only. Animals don't 'bloom' out so abruptly. You can hunt through Biology, Zoology or any similar study, and find but slow,—awfully slow,—adaptations toward any form of variation. Hurrying was not known until Man got around."

"My!" said Nancy, gasping, and not giggling now, "I wish that I could know all that you know, Kathy. As our slang puts it, 'I don't know nothin'.'"

"But, you could," said Kathlyn, "if you would only study. All through our young days, you know, with you and Bill out at a card or dancing party, you in flimsy frills, and Bill swishing around in sartorial glory, I was upstairs, studying. And so was Julius."

"That's right," said Nina. "I wish Virginia would study."

"Oh, I am!" said Virginia, all aglow.

"You? Studying what?"

"Aviation! Harold is going to show—"

"Now, Virginia, Harold is not!" and Nina Adams' foot was down! "It's not so bad for a man to fly, but a girl—"

"But, Mama, lots of girls fly, nowadays."

"I know that, and I also know a girl who won't! and, just as Lucy has always known that Old Tom Young's 'no' was a no, just so had Nina Adams brought up Virginia."

"But," said Kathlyn, "this sky-shooting talk isn't finding out anything about Councilman Simpkins;" and Virginia said:—

"Possibly Old Bill wants to 'fly high.' I think I'll ask Harold about taking him up for a jaunt."

This, bringing a happy laugh all around, Nina said:—

"Now don't jolly poor Bill too much. I don't know what, or who, got him to 'going social.'" And Nancy, giggling, said:—

"I put up a dollar, with Lucy's dollar-fifty that it's a woman."

"Oh, I don't know, now," said Nina. "A man isn't always trotting around on a woman's apron strings," and, as it was growing dark, Nina and Virginia got up to go.

Passing down Gadsby's front walk, a soft night wind brought back to that porch:—

"Now, Virginia, quit this! You will stay on solid ground!"

"Aw, Ma! Harold says——"

But a big bus, roaring by, cut it short.

* * * *

Just a month from this, His Honor, sitting on his porch with his "Morning Post" ran across a short bit, just two rows of print, which had him calling "Hi!" which Lady Gadsby took as a signal for a quick trip to that porch.

"All right, Your Honor! On duty! What's up?"

Gadsby, folding his "Post" into a narrow column, and handing it to that waiting lady, said nothing. As that good woman saw that paragraph, Gadsby saw first a gasp, following that, a grin, and finally:—

"Why! Of all things! So that's Nina—"

That row of print said, simply:—

"By Pastor Brown, on Saturday night, in Pastor's study, Nina Adams and Councilman Simpkins."

"Why!" said Lady Gadsby, laughing, "Nina sat on this porch only last month, talking about Old Bill, but saying nothing about this! I'm going right around to hug that darling woman; for that is what I call tact."

So, as Nina and our Lady sat talking, Nina said:

"You know that Bill and I, growing up from kids in school, always got along grandly; no childhood spats; but, still it was no 'crush' such as Youth falls into. As Bill got out of high school, I still had two rooms to go through. You also know that I wasn't a 'Miss' for long from graduation day. But Irving Adams was lost in that awful 'Titanic' calamity, and I brought up my baby in my widowhood. Bill was always sympathizing and patronizing, though all Branton Hills thought him a cast-iron grouch. But a public man is not always stiff and hard in his off hours; and Bill and I, slowly but gradually finding many a happy hour could—

"All right, you grand, luscious thing!!" and Lady Gadsby and Nina sat laughing on a couch, as in old, old school days. "And," said Nina, happily; "poor Bill's upstairs, now, putting his things around to suit him. Living for so long in a small lodging all his things staid in a trunk. A lodging-room always has various folks around, you know, and a man don't lay his things out as in his own room. So—"

"Nina," said Lady Gadsby; "do you know what brought him out of his old shut-in way of looking at things?"

"From just a word or two Bill drops, occasionally, I think that a child is—"

And Lady Gadsby, said; "You know our Good Book's saying about: 'And a tiny child shall——'"

XL

His Honor sat down by his two girls. Gadsby was not looking good. Black rings around his always laughing orbs; a hard cast to that jovial mouth; a gray hair or two, cropping up amongst his wavy brown. But Gadsby was not old. Oh, no; far from it. Still, that stoop in walking; that odd, limp slump in sitting; that toning down in joviality, had, for six months past, had all Branton Hills sympathizing with its popular Mayor.

* * * *

Days; days; days! And, oh! that tough part,—nights, nights, nights! Nights of two young chaps, in full clothing, only just napping on a parlor couch. Nights of two girls nodding in chairs in a dimly,—oh, so dimly a lit room.

It got around almost to Christmas, only a fortnight to that happy day; but,—happy in Gadsby's mansion? Finally Frank took a hand:—

"Now, kid, do try to stop this crying! You know I'm not scolding you, darling, but, you just can't go on this way; and that's that!"

"I'm trying so hard, hubby!"

Now Nancy was of that good, sturdy old Colonial stock of His Honor and Lady Gadsby; and so, as Christmas was approaching, and many a bunch of holly hung in Broadway's big windows, and as many a Salvation Army Santa Claus stood at its curbs, Nancy's constitution won out; but a badly worn young lady was in and out of Gadsby's mansion daily; bringing baby Lillian to kiss Grandma, and riding back with Frank at about six o'clock.

* * * *

Old Doctor Wilkins, coming in on a cool, sharp night, found His Honor, Nancy, Kathlyn, Bill, Julius, Lucy, Mary, Frank and John all in that big parlor.

"Now, you bunch, it's up to you. Lady Gadsby will pull through all right," (Nancy rushing wildly to kiss him!) "it hangs now upon good nursing; and I know you will furnish that. And I will say without a wisp of a doubt, that a calm, happy room; not too many around; and—and—hmmm!! Julius, can't you hunt around in our woods that you and Kathlyn know so thoroughly, and find a tall, straight young fir; cut it down, rig it up with lights and a lot of shiny stuff; stand it up in your Ma's room, and——"

* * * *

Along about midnight a happy group sat around Gadsby's parlor lamp, as Dr. Wilkins was saying;—

"Stopping a war; that is, stopping actual military combat, is not stopping a war in all its factors. During continuous hard strain a human mind can hold up; and it is truly amazing how much it can stand. Day by day, with that war-strain of worry pulling it down, it staunchly holds aloof, as a mighty oak in facing a storm. But it has a limit!! With too much and too long strain, it will snap; just as that mighty oak will fall, in a long fight. Lady Gadsby will avoid such a snap though it is by a narrow margin."

As this group sat in that holly-hung parlor, with that big cloth sign in big gold capitals; HAPPY CHRISTMAS, across its back wall; with horns tooting outdoors; with many a window around town aglow with tiny, dancing tallow-dip lights; with baby Lillian "all snuggling—so warm in a cot; as vision of sugar plums"—(and why shouldn't a baby think of sugar plums on that night, almost Christmas?); as, I say, this happy group sat around Gadsby's lamp, Mars, that grim old war tyrant, was far, far away. Upstairs, calmly snoozing on a big downy pillow, Lady Gadsby was now rapidly coming back again to that buxom, happy-go-lucky First Lady of Branton Hills.

XLI

Mary, coming out from His Honor's parlor, said:—

"Oh, I forgot to notify you of this. Norman has got about fifty kids from Grammar School boys and girls, anxious to follow in your Organization's foot-prints."

"Trot along, Allan."

"But how about this stadium? I'm doubting Old B—"

"Trot along, Allan."

* * * *

What Mary had said was a fact. Norman Antor had not only fought a military war; Norman Antor had also fought an inward war. A war, which fought him with gallon jugs, small phials, spoons, mixing apparatus, and—a stumbling, mumbling stupor! Norman had fought with about two million lads in that military war; but now, with no aid but a strain of good blood, starting way back of his carousing Dad (but, as such traits may, skipping a notch or two, and implanting in this young lad just a grain of its old nobility of mind), was fighting again; and, just as any solitary young chap amongst that two million loyally did his part, just so was this tiny grain now doing its part; fighting valiantly in his brain. It was giving him torturing thoughts in army night-camps, of a darling, loving young girl, a part of his own family, growing up "in a pool of liquor;" thoughts in night-camps of Branton Hills' patrol-wagon trips to jail; and Darn that thought of Virginia! Virginia drunk by his own hand! Ugh!! Why not chop that stinking hand off? And, on coming back to Branton Hills, watching that darling Mary in Salvation Army uniform, tramping, talking, praying for just such low-down "liquor hounds" as——.

Oh! It was an awful fight! A long, brain-racking onslaught against a villain shut in by walls of iron! But though Norman Antor's night-camp fights with Norman Antor had "put a big kick" in his wish to "lay off that stuff," just a final blow, just an awful brain-crashing blast was still missing, so that that big right hand might point skyward, to clinch that vow. And that blast was waiting for Norman! To anybody standing around, it wasn't much of a blast; but it was! It was a mighty concussion of T.N.T., coming as Mary, young, loving, praying Mary, said, as his arms unwound from around that frail form:—

"Why, Norman! Not drunk?"

God!! What flashing, shooting, sizzling sparks shot through his brain!! Up, out, in; all kinds of ways!! What crashing bombs!!

And, that first calm night on Old Lady Flanagan's porch; that moonlit night of bliss, with soft, cuddling, snuggling, laughing, crying darling Mary!

"I say," Norman was shouting, inwardly; "that night of bliss was a night of bliss and don't anybody try to say that it wasn't!"

For it was a night on which a young man's Soul was back; back in its own Mind, now full of God's incomparably grand purity!

* * * *

Lady Gadsby was visiting Nina, sitting in that big front parlor; Virginia sitting calmly rocking; (and, hmmm! That was about all Virginia ought to do, just now!) A young High School girl, coming in, said;—

"Good morning! I'm soliciting for funds for a stadium for——"

"Marian!" sang out Virginia, "What's all this? You, soliciting?"

"Why not?" said Marian, brightly. "Norman Antor's Organization of Youth; Part Two, is soli—"

"Norman Antor's what?" and Virginia was all agog in an instant, as Marian Hopkins told all about it; and, with childish flippancy, forgot all about soliciting, saying:—

"I was told that Harold is giving flying instructions. Don't you want to fly? My! I do!"

"I did," said Virginia, softly; "but,—not now;" and Marian was a bit too young to know why Lady Gadsby was smiling at Nina!

As Nancy found out about this, on Lady Gadsby's coming back to lunch, that "old Branton Hills matron," as Gadsby found a lot of fun calling "his baby girl," now-a-days, said, giggling:—

"No! Virginia! You'll stay on solid ground!"

XLII

Pastor Brown, standing at that big church door as folks, filing out would stop for a word or two, said to Gadsby:—

"Young Antor is invariably in church, now-a-days. I may add to my choir, and am thinking of putting him in it. I'm so glad to find out about that boy winning his fight. I always thought Norman would turn out all right."

Pastor Brown was right; and two Branton Hills girls, a Salvation Army lady, and a tiny tot of six had won crowns of Glory, from throwing rays of light into two badly stagnant Minds.

XLIII

Thirty-six months. That's not so long a run in daily affairs, and this Branton Hills history finds Thanksgiving Day dawning. In Branton Hill's locality it is not, customarily, what you would call a cold day. Many a Thanksgiving has had warm, balmy air, and without snow; though, also, without all that vast army of tiny chirping, singing, buzzing things on lawn or branch. But contrast has its own valuation; for, through it, common sights, vanishing annually, show up with a happy joy, upon coming back. Ah! That first faint coloring of grass, in Spring! That baby bud, on shrub or plant, shyly asking our loving South Wind if it's all right to pop out, now. That sprouting of big brown limbs on oak and birch; that first "blush of Spring" in orchards; that first furry, fuzzy, cuddly spray of pussy willows! Spring and Fall; two big points in your trip along your Pathway. Fall with its rubbish from months of labor: cornstalks, brown, dry grass, old twigs lying around, wilting plants; bright colorings blazing in distant woodlands; chill winds crawling in through windows, at night. And Spring! Pick-up, paint-up, wash-up Spring!! So, as I said, Branton Hills got around to Thanksgiving Day; that day on which as many of a family as possibly can should sit around a common board; coming from afar, or from only a door or two away.

Gadsby's dining-room was not big; it had always sat but six in his family. But, on this Thanksgiving Day,—hmmm! "Wait, now—uh-huh, that's it. Just run that pair of sliding doors back, put that parlor lamp upstairs; and that piano? Why not roll it out into my front hall? I know it will look odd, but you can't go through a Thanksgiving 'soup to nuts' standing up. Got to jam in chairs, any old way!"

But who is all this mob that will turn His Honor's dining-room into a thirty-foot hall? I'll look around, as our happy, laughing, singing, clapping group sits down to Gadsby's Thanksgiving party.

I find two "posts of honor;" (My gracious! so far apart!); His Honor, with carving tools filling dish, dish, and dish.

"Atta boy! Atta girl! Pass up your chow-dish! This bird has but two drum-sticks, but six of his cousins wait, out in our cook-shop! Lots of grub! What's that, Julius? A bit of dark? Want any gravy?"

At Post Two sits "Ma;" again in that good old buxom condition, so familiar to all Branton Hills:—

"Right this way, folks, for potato, squash, onions, carrots and turnip!!"

What a happy bunch! Following around from Gadsby, sit Bill, Lucy and Addison. But whoa! Who's this Addison? Oh, pardon; I forgot all about it. Lucy's baby; and his first Thanksgiving. Hi, you! Tut-tut! Mustn't grab raisins! Naughty, naughty! On Lucy's right sit Mary, Julius and Norman; following along, I find Nancy, Frank and Baby Lillian, Kathlyn, John, Lady Standish, Priscilla and Hubby Arthur Rankin; Nina Adams,—Oh! A thousand pardons!!—Nina Simpkins! and Old Bill. Say! You wouldn't know Bill! Bright, happy, laughing, singing, and tapping a cup with his spoon; spick-span suit, and that now famous "Broadway carnation." Hulloa, Bill; you old sport!! Glad to find you looking so happy! What? Two whacks at that bird? Why Bill!! On Bill's right sits Pastor Brown, old Doctor Wilkins, Harold, Virginia, and Patricia. Oh, pardon again! Patricia, Virgina's baby; just six months old, today, and valiantly trying to swallow a half-pound candy cow! Following around I find Old Tom Young, Sarah, and Paul. No, I don't find a high-chair by Sarah; but Sarah sits just rocking, rocking, rocking, now-a-days. Following on, again, is Old Tom Donaldson, Clancy Dowd, and—Old Lady Flanagan, with "this dom thing I calls hoosband!" And lastly, Marian and old Pat Ryan from our railway station's trunk room.

So it was just laugh, talk, "stuff," and—

* * * *

Oh, hum! Folks can't stay all night, you know; so, finally, groups and pairs, drifting out, all had happy words for His Honor and Lady Gadsby; and His Honor, a word or two; for you know Gadsby can talk? So it was:—

"Good night, Nina; good luck, Old Bill! Oh! say, Bill; will that cigar blow up? Good night, Virginia; and ta-ta Patricia; and Virginia, you mind your Ma and stay down on solid ground! Aha, Clancy! You old motor-pump fan! No; that's wrong; animal-drawn pump! Good night, Pastor Brown; so glad you put Norman in your choir. And now Old Tom and Sarah! Tom, you look as young as on that day on which you brought Sarah, just a tiny, squalling, fist-waving bunch, to this porch to ask about adoption! And I know Sarah has always had a kind, loving Dad. Paul, you young sprout! As you turn into a daddy, soon now, you'll find that, on marrying, a man and woman start actually living. It's miraculous, Paul, that's just what it is."

And so it was; pairs and groups shaking hands and laughing, until finally a big buxom woman sang out:—

"Whoops!! It was a wow of a grub-lay-out! It was thot! But this dom thing I calls hoosband. Say! You grub-stuffin' varmint! Phwat's that in your hat? A droom-stick, is it? Do you want His Honor to think I don't cook nuthin' for you? Goodnight, all! I'm thot full I'm almost a-bustin'!"

As Lady Standish shook hands, that worthy woman said:—

"John, what you did for Branton Hills should go into our National Library at Washington, in plain sight."

"Sally, Youth's part was paramount in all that work. All I did was to boss;" and Old Doc Wilkins, coming out, nibbling a bunch of raisins, said:—

"Uh-huh; but a boss must know his job!"

"That's all right," said Gadsby; "but it was young hands and young minds that did my work! Don't disqualify Youth for it will fool you, if you do!"

* * * *

A glorious full moon sails across a sky without a cloud. A crisp night air has folks turning up coat collars and kids hopping up and down for warmth. And that giant star, Sirius, winking slyly, knows that soon, now, that light up in His Honor's room window will go out. Fttt! It is out! So, as Sirius and Luna hold an all-night vigil, I'll say a soft "Good-night" to all our happy bunch, and to John Gadsby—Youth's Champion.

FINIS

Note: Not a word containing the letter "E" has appeared in this story of over 50,000 words.