If you know childhood you know that thrills don't last long without a call for information. And Gadsby got such a call, with:—
"No, sir. Is this God's parlor?"
Now Gadsby wouldn't, for anything, spoil a childish thought; so said, kindly:—
"It's part of it. God's parlor is awfully big, you know."
"My parlor is awfully small; and not any bloss—— Oh! Wouldn't God——?"
Gadsby's hunch was now working, full tilt; and so, as this loving family man, having had four kids of his own, and this tot from a poor family with its "awfully small" parlor,—had trod this big glass building's paths again and again; round and round, an almost monstrous sigh from an almost bursting tiny bosom, said:—
"I'll think of God's parlor, always and always and always!!" and Gadsby, on glancing upwards, saw a distinct drooping and curving of many stalks; which is a plant's way of bowing to a child. And, at Branton Hills' following Council night a motion was—— But I said Gadsby had a hunch. So, not only this schoolgirl's awfully small parlor, but many such throughout Branton Hills' poor districts, soon found a "big girl" from Gadsby's original Organization of Youth at its front door with plants from that big glass building, in which our City Florist works in God's parlor. (P.S. Go with a child to your City Florist's big glass building. It's a duty!)
XXIV
I am now going back to my saying that a city has all kinds of goings-on; both sad and gay. So, as His Honor sat on his porch on a warm spring day, a paragraph in Branton Hills' "Post" brought forth such a vigorous "Huh!" that Lady Gadsby was curious, asking:—
"What is it?"