Sarah had not grown up from infancy in kindly Tom's cabin without knowing that his "no" was a "no!!" and not a flimsy, hollow word which a whining, or a sniffling, or a bawling child could switch around into: "Oh, all right, if you want to." So Sarah still sat on that low stool; or, to turn it around almost backwards,—Sarah sat on that stool,—still. So still that Tom's old tin clock on its wall hooks was soon dominating that small room with its rhythmic ticking, as a conductor's baton controls a brass band's pianissimos. Finally Sarah said softly, slowly, sadly and with a big, big sigh:—
"I did so want to go." And that small clock was ticking, ticking, ticking ...
For a full hour Sarah and old Tom sat talking and rocking, until Sarah, phoning to Doris, said:—
"My Dad says no."
And Doris, phoning back to Sarah, said:—
"So did my Dad."
And, as Virginia Adams was that trio's third part; and as Sarah and Doris had always known Nina Adams' strong will; and as,—Oh, hum! It was a happy fascination until adult minds got hold of it!
XXIX
Gadsby was walking back from a visit down in Branton Hills' manufacturing district on a Saturday night. A busy day's traffic had had its noisy run; and with not many folks in sight, His Honor got along without having to stop to grasp a hand, or talk; for a Mayor out of City Hall is a shining mark for any politician. And so, coming to Broadway, a booming bass drum and sounds of singing, told of a small Salvation Army unit carrying on amidst Broadway's night shopping crowds. Gadsby, walking toward that group, saw a young girl, back towards him, just finishing a long, soulful oration, saying:—
"... and I can say this to you, for I know what I am talking about; for I was brought up in a pool of liquor!!"