As this story has shown, _Youth_, if adults will only admit that it has
any brains at all, will stand out, today, in a most promising light.
Philosophically, Youth is Wisdom in formation, and with many thoughts
startling to adult minds; and, industrially, this vast World's coming
stability is now, _today_, in its hands; growing slowly, as a blossom
grows from its bud. If you will furnish him with a thorough schooling,
you can plank down your dollar that Youth, _starting out_ from this
miraculous day, will not lag nor shirk on that coming day in which
old joints, rusty and crackling, must slow down; and, calling for an
oil can, you will find that Youth _only_, is that lubrication which
can run Tomorrow's World. But Youth must not go thinking that all its
plans will turn out all right; and young Marian Hopkins found this out.
Marian, you know, took part in our airport initiation. But Marian,
only a kid at that day, has grown up--or half-way up, anyway, and just
graduating from Grammar School; upon which big day a child "knows" as
much as any famous savant of antiquity! But, as this story runs in
skips and jumps, strict chronological continuity is not a possibility.
So, Marian is now half grown-up. Now that big airport, as you also
know, was just back of Marian's back yard; and as that yard was much
too big for anything that Marian's Dad could do with it, it was put
up for disposal. But nobody would go to look at it; to say nothing
of buying it. But Old Bill Simpkins, past antagonist of Gadsby's
Organization of Youth, did go out to look at it; but said, with his
customary growl:--
"Too many aircraft always roaring and zooming. Too far out of town. And
you ask too much for it, anyway."
But Marian thought that Branton Hills, as a municipality, should
own it; figuring that that airport would grow, and that yard was
practically a part of it, anyway. So Marian, going to His Honor, as
about anybody in town did, without an instant's dallying, "told him,"
(!) what his Council should do.
"But," said Gadsby, "what a City Council should do, and what it _will_
do, don't always match up."
"Can't I go and talk to it?"
"_What!_ To our Council? No; that is, not as a body. But if you can
run across a Councilman out of City Hall you can say what you wish. A
Councilman is just an ordinary man, you know."
But a Councilman out of City Hall was a hard man to find; and a child
couldn't go to a man's mansion to "talk him around." But, by grand luck
in a month or so, Marian did find, and _win_, all but Simpkins.
On Council night, Simpkins took up a good,--or I should say, bad--half
hour against Branton Hills "buying any old dump or scrap land that
is put up. What was this city coming to?" and so on, and so on. And
Marian's back yard wasn't bought. Now Youth is all right if you rub its
fur in a way which suits it; but, man!! hold on to your hat, if you
don't!! And Marian's fur was all lumpy. _Boy! was that kid MAD!!_
Now, just by luck, March thirty-first, coming along as days do, you
know, found Marian in front of a toy shop window, in which, way down
front, was a box of cigars, with a card saying: "This Brand Will Start
His Blood Tingling." And Marian, as boys say, was "on" in an instant;
and bought a cigar. Not a box, not a bunch, but just _a_ cigar. Coming
out Marian saw His Honor and Simpkins passing; Simpkins saying:--
"All right. I'll drop around, tonight." And was Marian happy? Wait a
bit.
That night as Gadsby and Simpkins sat talking in His Honor's parlor,
who would, "just by luck," (??) walk in, but Marian; saying, oh, _so_
shyly:--
"Just thought I'd drop in to chat with Nancy," and, on passing a couch,
slyly laid that cigar on it. Now Simpkins, in addition to his famous
grouch, was a parsimonious old crab; who, though drawing good pay
as Councilman, couldn't pass up anything that cost nothing; and, in
gazing around, saw that cigar; and, with a big apologizing yawn, and
slinking onto that couch as a cat slinks up on a bird, and, oh, _so_
nonchalantly lighting a match, was soon puffing away and raving about
Branton Hills politics. Out in a back parlor sat Marian and Nancy on a
big divan, hugging tightly up, arm in arm, and almost suffocating from
holding back youthful anticipations, as Simpkins said:--
"... and that Hopkins back yard stunt! Ridiculous! Why, his kid was
out, trying to find all of our Council to talk it into buying. Bah! And
_did_ I block it? I'll say I did! You don't find kids today laughing at
Councilman Simpkins."
An actual _spasm_ of giggling in that back parlor had Gadsby looking
around, inquiringly.
"No, sir!" Simpkins said. "No kid can fool Coun----"
_BANG!!_
Gadsby, jumping up saw only a frazzly cigar stump in Old Bill's mouth,
as that palpitating individual was vigorously brushing off falling
sparks as His Honor's rugs got a rain of tobacco scraps! Gadsby was
"on" in an instant, noticing Marian and Nancy rolling and tumbling
around on that big divan, and doubling up in a giggling fit, _way_ out
of control. Finally Simpkins angrily got up, viciously jamming on his
tall silk hat; and Marian, fighting that giggling fit, just _had_ to
call out:--
"_April Fool_, Councilman Simpkins!!"
(And Mayor Gadsby, on a following Council night, got Marian's land bill
through; many a Councilman holding his hand in front of his grinning
mouth, in voting for bright, vitalic Youth.)