“How did the Mayor take this persecution?”
“Like an angel, for the first few days. Then I began to increase the number of my scouts. They met him on his own sidewalk, on the corner as he waited for the car, on the steps of his club, till at last he began to dodge them.”
“Then they got their blood up. You can’t elude the children of the streets. I told them not to beg or whine, just to say their little formula, then vanish.
“At the end of a week he began to have a hunted look. Then he began to peer around street corners, then he took to a coupé, and then he sprained his ankle.”
“What did the children do?”
“Politely waited for him to get well, but he sent me a note, saying he would do all he could to get them their park, and with his influence that meant, of course, that they should have it.”
“How lovely—weren’t you glad?”
“I danced for joy—but this puzzled me. I hadn’t expected to get at his heart so soon. Who had helped me? Grandma said it was the Lord.”
“Aided by Mrs. Jimson, I suspect,” added Margaretta, shrewdly. “This explains a mystery. Some time ago, I heard Roger and Tom Everest down in the library nearly killing themselves laughing. When I asked Roger what it was about, he said only a Jimson joke. Then he said, ‘Can’t you keep Berty out of the city hall?’”
“I said, ‘What do you mean?’ but he wouldn’t tell me any more. I believe that Mr. Jimson’s men friends teased him, and his mother and sisters brought pressure to bear upon him.”