Ernest Vincent Wright-Gadsby_ A Lipogram Novel -CreateSpace (2011) (13 page)

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: — "Oh! That last ribbon! Isn't anybody going to hold it?"

Now historians shouldn't laugh. Historians should only put down what occurs. But I, your historian of Branton Hills, not only had to laugh, but to roar; for this tot, worrying about that hanging ribbon, saw our big pompous Council group looking on. Now a Council is nothing to a tot of four; just a man or two, standing around. So, trotting up and grasping Old Bill's hand, this tot said:

"You'll hold it, won't you?"

"What!!" and Simpkins was all colors on throat and brow as Branton Hills' Council stood, grinning. But that baby chin was straining up, and a pair of baby arms was pulling, oh, so hard; and, in a sort of coma, big, pompous, grouchy Councilman Simpkins took that hanging ribbon! A band struck up a quick march, and round and round trod that happy, singing ring, with Old Bill looming up as big as a mountain amongst its foothills! Laugh? I thought His Honor would burst!

As that ribbon spiral got wound, Simpkins, coming back, said, with a growl:-"I was afraid I would tramp on a kid or two in that silly stunt."

"It wasn't silly, Bill," said Gadsby. "It was grand!" And Tony Bandamita sang out: — "Gooda work, Councilmanna! My four bambinos walka right in fronta you, and twista ribbons!"

Simpkins, though, would only snort, and pass on.

ON A WARM Sunday, Kathlyn and Julius, poking around in Branton Hills' suburbs, occasionally found an odd formation of fossilization, installing it amidst our Hall of Natural History's displays. Shortly following such an installation, a famous savant on volcanic activity noting a most propitious rock formation amongst Julius' groups, thought of cutting into it; for ordinary, most prosaic rocks may contain surprising information; and, upon arriving at Branton Hills' railway station, ran across old Pat Ryan, czar of its trunk room.

"Ah, my man! I want to find a lapidary."

"A what?"

"It isn't a 'what,' it's a lapidary."

"Lapidary, is it? Lapidary, lapidary, lapi— lapi—la—. No, I—"

Now this savant was in a hurry, and said, snappily:-"But a city as big as Branton Hills has a lapidary, I trust!"

"Oh, Branton Hills has a lot of things. But, wait a bit! It ain't a lavatory what you want, is it?"

But at this instant, to old Pat's salvation, Kathlyn, passing by, said:—

"All right, Pat. I know about this;" and, both taking a taxi, old Pat walking round and round, scratching his bald crown, was murmuring:

"Lapid—Aho! I got it! It's probably a crittur up at that zoo! I ain't forgot that hop, skip and jump, walloping Australian tornado! And now His Honor has put in a lapidary!! I think I'll go up with that old canvas bag! But why all sich high-brow stuff in naming critturs? This lapidary thing might turn out only a rat, or a goofy bug!"

But that fairy bug, Dan Cupid, goofy or not, as you wish, was buzzing around again; and, though this story is not of wild, romantic infatuations, in which rival villains fight for a fair lady's hand, I am bound to say that Cupid has put on an act varying much from his works in Gadsby's mansion; for this arrow from his bow caught two young folks to whom a dollar bill was as long, broad and high as City Hall. Both had to work for a living; but by saving a bit, off and on, Sarah Young, who, you know, with Priscilla Standish first thought of our Night School, and Paul Johnson, who did odd jobs around town, such as caring for lawns, painting and "man-of-all-work," had put by a small bank account. Paul was an orphan, as was Sarah, who had grown up with a kindly old man, Tom Young; his "old woman," dying at about Sarah's fourth birthday. (That word "old woman", is common amongst Irish folks, and is not at all ungracious. It had to crawl into this story, through orthographical taboos, you know.) But Sarah, now a grown young lady, had that natural longing for a spot in which a woman might find that joy of living, in having "things to do for just us two" if bound by Cupid's gift—matrimony.

Many a day in passing that big church of Nancy's grand display, or Gadsby's rich mansion, Sarah had thought fondly about such things; for, as with any girl, marrying amidst blossoms, glamour and organ music was a goal, to attain which was actual bliss. But such rituals call for cash; and lots of it, too. Also, Old Tom Young had no room in any way fit for such an occasion.

So Sarah would walk past, possibly a bit sad, but looking forward to a coming happy day.

And it wasn't so far off. My, no! As Nancy had thought April was "a million months long," Sarah's days swung past in a dizzy whirl; during which, in company with Paul on Saturday nights, a small thing or two was happily bought for that "Cupid's Coop," as both found a lot of fun in calling it. But Sarah naturally had girl chums, just as Nancy and Kathlyn had; for most of that old Organization was still in town; and many a gift found its way to this girl who, though poor in worldly goods, was as rich as old King Midas in a bright, happy disposition; for anybody who didn't know that magic captivation of Sarah Young's laugh, that rich crown of light, fluffy hair, or that grand, proud, upright walk, wasn't amongst Branton Hills' population. Paul, scratching around shady paths, a potato patch or two, front yards, back yards, and city parks, was known to many an old family man; who upon knowing of his coming variation in living conditions, thought way, way back to his own romantic youth; so Paul, going to Sarah at night, brought small but practical gifts for that "coop."

As Sarah and Paul stood in front of City Hall on a hot July night, Sarah scanning Branton Hills' "Post" for "vacant rooms," who should walk up but His Honor! And that kindly hand shot out with:-

"Aha! If it isn't Paul and Sarah! What's Sarah hunting for, Paul?"

"Sarah is looking for a room for us, sir."

"Us? Did you say 'us'? Oho! H-mmm! I'm on! How soon will you want it?"

"Oh," said Sarah, blushing, "not for about a month."

"But," said His Honor, "you shouldn't start out in a room. You would want from four to six, I should think."

Sarah, still ogling that "rooms" column, said, softly:-

"Four to six rooms? That's just grand if you can afford such. But, —"

"Wait!" said Gadsby, who, taking Paul's and Sarah's arms, and strolling along, told of a small six-room bungalow of his, just around from Nancy's.

"And you two will pay just nothing a month for it. It's yours, from front porch to roof top, as a gift to two of my most loyal pals."

And instantly a copy of Branton Hills' "Post" was blowing across Broadway in a fluky July wind!

Now, as this young pair was to start out frugally, it wouldn't do to lay out too much for, as Sarah said, "about forty words by a pastor, and a kiss."

So only Priscilla stood up with Sarah; and Bill Gadsby, in all his sartorial glory, with Paul, in Parson Brown's small study; both girls in dainty morning clothing; Sarah carrying a bunch of gay nasturtiums, claiming that such warm, bright colorings would add as much charm to that short occasion as a thousand dollars' worth of orchids. Now, such girls as Sarah, with that capacity for finding satisfaction so simply, don't grow as abundantly as hollyhocks — and Paul found that Gadsby's old Organization was a group knowing what a dollar is: just a dollar.

OCCASIONALLY A SIGHT bobs up without warning in a city, which starts a train of thought, sad or gay, according to how you look at it. And so, Lucy, Priscilla, and Virginia Adams, walking along Broadway, saw a crowd around a lamp post, upon which was a patrol-box; and, though our girls don't customarily follow up such sights, Lucy saw a man's form sprawling flat up against that post, as limp as a rag. Priscilla said, in disgust: — "Ugh!! It's Norman Antor! Drunk again!!" and Virginia, hastily grasping both girls' arms and hurrying past, said:—

"So!! His vacation in jail didn't do him any good! But, still, it's too bad. Norman is a good looking, manly lad, with a good mind and a thorough schooling. And now look at him! A common drunk!!"

Priscilla was sad, too, saying: — "Awful! Awful for so young a chap. What is his Dad doing now?"

"Still in jail," was all Virginia could say; adding sadly: "I do pity poor young Mary, who sold Antor's liquor, you know. Doris says that lots of school-girls snub that kid. Now that's not right. It's downright horrid! Mary was brought up in what you almost might call a pool of liquor, and I don't call it fair to snub a child for that; for you know that, not only 'Past' Councilman Antor, but also Madam Antor, got what our boys call 'litup' on many public occasions. Antor's pantry was full of it! Which way could that poor kid look without finding it? You know Mary is not so old as most of us; and I'm just going to go to that child and try to bring a ray of comfort into that young mind. That rum-guzzling Antor family!! Ugh!!"

* * * *

But a city also has amusing sights; and our trio ran plump into that kind, just around a turn; for, standing on a soap box, shouting a high-sounding jargon of rapidly shot words, was Arthur Rankin, an original Organization lad; a crowd of boys, a man or two, and a woman hanging laughingly around. Our trio's first inkling as to what it was all about was Arthur's hail to Priscilla: —

"Aha! Branton Hills' fair womanhood is now approaching!!"

Now if our trio didn't know Arthur so thoroughly, such girls might balk at this publicity. But Priscilla and Arthur had had many a "slapping match" long ago, arising from childhood's spats; Priscilla originally living on an adjoining lot, and was Arthur's "first girl;" which, according to his old Aunt Anna, "was just silly puppy stuff!" So nobody thought anything of this public hail and Arthur was raving on about "which puts an instant stop to all pain; will rid you of anything from dandruff to ingrowing nails; will build up a strong body from a puny runt; will grow hair on a billiard-ball scalp, and taboo it on a lady's chin; will put a glamorous gloss on tooth or nail; stop stomach growls; oil up kinky joints, and bring you to happy, smiling days of Utopian bliss! How many, Priscilla? Only a dollar a box; two for dollar-sixty!"

Priscilla, laughing, said:—

"Not any today, thank you, Art! All I want is a pair of juicy lamb chops—a dish of onions — a dish of squash — a dish of carrots — a pint of milk — potato-chips — hot biscuits — cold slaw — custard pudding — nuts — raisins —"

"Whoa, Priscilla! Hop right up on this box! I know that word-slinging ability of old" and as that crowd was fading away, Priscilla said:

"This is odd work for you, Arthur; you so good a draughtsman. What's up?"

And Arthur, a happy, rollicking boy, having always had all such things as most boys had, with a Dad making good pay as a railroad conductor, told sadly of an awful railway smash-up which took "Dad" away from four small Rankin orphans, whom Arthur was now supporting; and a scarcity of jobs in Branton Hills and of trips to surrounding towns, always finding that old sign out: "No Work Today." Of this soap box opportunity bobbing up, which was now bringing in good cash. So our girls found that our Branton Hills boys didn't shirk work of any kind, if brought right up against want.

BUT WHAT ABOUT Branton Hills' municipal affairs, right now? In two months it was to ballot on who should sit in past-Councilman Antor's chair; and a campaign was on which was actually sizzling. And in what a contrast to our city's start! For it has grown rapidly; and, in comparison to that day upon which a thousand ballots was a big out-pouring of popular clamor now many politicians had City Hall aspirations. And who do you think was running for Council, now? William Gadsby. Popularly known as Bill! Bill, Branton Hills' famous dandy; Bill, that consummation of all Branton Hills girls' most romantic wish; Bill, that "outdoor part" of Branton Hills' most aristocratic tailor shop! Naturally, opposing groups fought for that vacancy; part of our population clamoring loudly for Bill, but with many just as strongly against him. So it was: —

"Put Bill Gadsby in!! Bill has all our Mayor's good points! Bill will work for all that is upright and good!"