A crowd was standing around in City Park, for a baby was missing.
Patrol cars roaring around Branton Hills; many a woman hunting around
through sympathy; kidnapping rumors flying around. His Honor was out
of town; but on landing at our railroad station, and finding patrol
cars drawn up at City Park, saw, in that crowd's midst, a tiny girl, of
about six, with a bunch of big shouting patrol officers, asking:--
"Who took that baby?"
"Did you do it?"
"Which way did it go?"
"How long ago did you miss it?"
"Say, kiddo!! _Why don't you talk?_"
An adult brain can stand a lot of such shouting, but a baby's is not in
that class; so, totally dumb, and shaking with fright, this tot stood,
thumb in mouth, and two big brown baby orbs just starting to grow
moist, as His Honor, pushing in, said:
"Wait a bit!!" and that bunch in uniform, knowing him, got up and
Gadsby sat down on a rock, saying:--
"You can't find out a _thing_ from a young child by such hard, gruff
ways. This tiny lady is almost in a slump. Now, just start this crowd
moving. I know a bit about Youth."
"That's right," said a big, husky patrolman. "If anybody living knows
kids, it's you, sir."
So, as things got around to normal, His Honor, now sitting flat on City
Park's smooth lawn, said, jovially:--
"Hulloa."
A big gulping sob in a tiny bosom--didn't gulp; and a grin ran around a
small mouth, as our young lady said:--
"_So_ many big cops! O-o-o! I got afraid!"
"I know, darling; but no big cops will shout at you now. _I_ don't
shout at tiny girls, do I?"
"No, sir; but if folks do shout, I go all woozy."
"Woozy? Woozy? Ha, ha! I'll look that up in a big book. But what's all
this fuss about? Is it about a baby?"
A vigorous nodding of a bunch of brown curls.
"What? Fussing about a baby? A baby is too small to fuss about."
"O-o-o-o! It _isn't!!_"
"No?"
"No, sir. I fuss about my dolly, an' it's not half so big as a baby."
"That's so. Girls do fuss about dolls. My girls did."
"How many dolls has your girls got?"
"Ha, ha! Not any, now. My girls all got grown up and big."