But Gadsby was thinking—and thinking hard, too. Finally saying:—
"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:—