"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.