Ernest Vincent Wright-Gadsby_ A Lipogram Novel -CreateSpace (2011) (16 page)

"...for I just couldn't stay in that bungalow, with nobody around, you know." And all about loving companionship in that grand old lady's arms; and of Mary's finding that Flanagan, who got such a wallop from Antor's killing, wasn't drinking so much, now which put it into Mary's mind that many a man would, with kindly coaching, turn from it. "And I think that my nightly talks against liquor, hit; and hit hard, too; for almost nightly a poor down-and-out will follow along with our band, promising to cut it out and go straight. Oh, why didn't I try to stop Norman's drinking?"

"Probably," said Gadsby, "you did, in your girlish way; but you know boys don't think that small girls know anything. I'd put up any amount that Norman, in that far-away camp, is thinking of you, constantly."

"Oh-h-h-h! If I could only know that I" and a look of almost sanctity, and a big, long-drawn sigh told what a turmoil was going on in this young girl's mind. "But I'm going on, and on and on with this night talking until Norman is back again. Possibly a plan will turn up toward both of us living down our past, — and our sorrow." And Gadsby, slowly plodding along towards his dimly lit mansion, thought of a slight transposition of that scriptural quotation: "And your sins, you adults, shall fall upon your offspring, unto your third and fourth—"

"Oh, if a man would only think of his offspring having to carry on, long past his last day! And of how hard it is for a boy or girl to stand up and proudly (?) claim that so-and-so 'was my Dad,' if all Branton Hills knows of that Dad's inglorious past. Poor kids!" for you know that Gadsby said, in this story's start, that "a man should so carry on his daily affairs as to bring no word of admonition from anybody;" for a man's doings should put a stain upon no soul but his own.

But, aha!! As His Honor got to his parlor, his sad mind found a happy, smiling Lady awaiting him; crying joyously: —

"Look! Look, John! Word from William! From Bill, in Paris!"

Bill's first communication said:—

"Darling Folks: Julius and I just got into this town from a month of hard marching, ditchdigging and fighting. I am all right, and so is Julius. Ran across Frank, who is on duty at our Commissary. Lucky guy! Lots of food always around! Paul is growing fat. Looks mighty good. Oh, how all of us do miss you and good old Branton Hills! I can't find a solitary suit in this town that I would put on to go to a dog fight! Such fashion!" and so on; just a natural outpouring from a boy, away on his first trip from his Dad's kindly roof.

"Ha, ha!" said Gadsby, laughing jovially; "That's our Bill, all right! Always thinking of dolling up!" and Lady Gadsby, rising quickly, said: —

"Oh, I must call up Nancy, Kathlyn and Sarah!" and, in a trio of small bungalows, joy, wild joy, found its way into girlish minds!

As Gadsby sat, going through this good word again and again, a mirthful chuckling had Lady Gadsby asking:—

"What's so funny about it?"

"Nothing; only if I didn't know that Frank is such a grand, good lad, I'd think Bill was hiding a bit from us; for that 'on duty at Commissary' might amount only to potato paring!"

PRISCILLA STANDISH was waiting at our big railroad station, on a warm Spring day, for a train to pull out, so that cross-track traffic could start again. It was just an ordinary train such as stop hourly at Branton Hills, but Priscilla saw that a group was hurrying toward a combination-car, way up forward. Now Priscilla was not a girl who found morbid curiosity in any such a public spot; but, still, an odd, uncanny sort of thrill, — almost a chill, in fact,—was urging, urging a slow walk toward that car. Just why, Priscilla didn't know; but such things do occur in a human mind. So Priscilla soon was standing on a trunk truck, gazing down into that group which now was slowly moving back, forming room for taking out a young man in khaki uniform, on a hospital cot. With a gasp of horror, Priscilla was instantly down from that truck, pushing through that group, and crying out, wildly:-"Arthur! Arthur Rankin! Oh! Oh! What is it, darling?" and looking up at a hospital assistant, "Is it bad?"

"Don't know, right now, lady," said that snowy clad official. "Unconscious. But our big hospital will do all it can for him."

Arthur Rankin! Arthur, with whom Priscilla had had many a childhood spat! Arthur who had shown that "puppy stuff" for Priscilla, that his old aunt was always so disapprovingly sniffing at! And now, unconscious on a, —

With a murmuring of sympathy from that sorrowing public, now dissolving, as all crowds do, Priscilla had a quick, comforting thought: "Kathlyn is working at that hospital!" Kathlyn had known Arthur as long as Priscilla had; and Kathlyn's famous ability would — So our panting and worrying girl was hurrying along through Broadway's turning and inquiring crowds to that big hospital which our Organization of Youth had had built. And now Arthur was going, for not long, possibly, but, still possibly for —

* * *

It was midnight in that big still building. Old Doctor Wilkins stood by Arthur's cot; Priscilla, sobbing pitifully, was waiting in a corridor, with Lady Standish giving what comfort a woman could. Lady Standish, who took in dogs, cats, rabbits or any living thing that was hurt, sick or lost; Lady Standish, donor of four thousand dollars for our big Zoo; Lady Standish, kindly savior of Clancy's and Dowd's "Big Four," now waiting, without ability to aid a human animal. Finally, Doctor Wilkins, coming out, said:—

"Kathlyn says no sign of blood contamination, but vitality low; badly low; sinking, I think. Railroad trip almost too much for him. Looks bad."

But, at this instant, an assistant, calling Wilkins, said Arthur was coming out of his coma; and was murmuring "about a woman known as Priscilla. Do you know anybody by—?" With a racking sob, Priscilla shot through that door, Lady Standish quickly following. Arthur, picking up, a bit, from Priscilla's soft, oh, so soft and loving crooning and patting, took that fond hand and—sank back! Doctor Wilkins, looking knowingly at Priscilla, said:

"If it is as I think, you two had had thoughts of —"

A vigorous nod from Priscilla, and an approving look from Lady Standish, and Doctor Wilkins said:—

"Hm-m-m! It should occur right now! Or, —"

As quick as a flash that snowy-clad assistant was phoning; and, astonishingly soon, our good Pastor Brown stood by that cot; and, with Arthur in a most surprising pick-up, holding Priscilla's hot, shaking hand, through that still hospital room was wafting Priscilla's soft, low words: —

"...you for my lawful husband, until..."

* * *

Doctor Wilkins, going out with Priscilla, now trying, oh, so hard for control; with grand, charming, loving Kathlyn, arm in arm, said: —

"That joy will pull him through. Boys, at war, so far away, will naturally droop, both in body and mind, from lack of a particular girl's snuggling and cuddling. So just wait until Kathlyn finds out all about his condition; and good food, with this happy culmination of a childhood infatuation, will put him in first-class condition, if no complications show up." Ah! What an important part of a city's institutions a hospital is! What a comfort to all, to know that, should injury or any ailing condition of man, woman or child occur without warning, anybody can, simply through phoning find quick transportation at his door; and, with angrily clanging gongs, or high-pitch whistlings obtaining a "right of way" through all traffic, that institution's doors will swing apart, assistants will quickly surround that cot, and an ability for doing anything that Man can do is at hand. You know, almost daily, of capitalists of philanthropic mold, donating vast sums to a town or an association; but, in your historian's mind, no donation can do so much good as that which builds, or maintains hospitalization for all. A library, a school, a boys' or girls' club, a vacation facility, a "chair" of this or that in an institution of instruction,— all do much to build up a community. Both doctoring as a study for a young man, and nursing for a girl form most important parts of Mankind's activity.

And so, just four months from that awful, but also happy day, Arthur Rankin sat in a hammock with Priscilla, on Lady Standish's porch, with four small Rankins playing around; or was walking around that back yard full of cats, dogs, rabbits, and so on, with no thought of soap box orations in his mind.

ON A GRAND AUTUMN morning Branton Hills' "Post" boys ran shouting down Broadway, showing in half-foot wording:

"FIGHTING STOPS!! HISTORY'S MOST DISASTROUS WAR IS HISTORY NOW!!!" and again, Branton Hills stood stock still. But only for an instant; for soon, it was, in all minds:-"Thank God!! Oh, ring your loud church clarions! Blow your factory blasts! Shout! Cry! Sing! Play, you bands! Burst your drums! Crack your cymbals!"

Ah, what a sight on Broadway! Shop girls pouring out! Shop janitors boarding up big glass windows against a surging mob! And, (sh-h-h-h) many a church having in its still sanctity a woman or girl at its altar rail.

Months, months, months! Branton Hills was again at its big railroad station, its Municipal Band playing our grand National air, as a long troop train, a solid mass of bunting, was snorting noisily in. And, amidst that outpouring flood of Branton Hills boys, Lady Gadsby, Nancy, Kathlyn and His Honor found Bill, Julius, Frank and John. Sarah was just "going all apart" in Paul's arms, with Virginia swooning in Harold's.

On old Lady Flanagan's porch sat Mary Antor; for, having had no word from Norman for months, this grand young Salvation Army lass was in sad, sad doubt. But soon, as that shouting mob was drifting away, and happy family groups walking citywards, a khaki-clad lad, hurrying to old Lady Flanagan's cabin, and jumping that low, ivy-clad wall, had Mary, sobbing and laughing, in his arms. No. It wasn't Norman.

A CROWD WAS standing around in City Park, for a baby was missing. Patrol cars roaring around Branton Hills; many a woman hunting around through sympathy; kidnapping rumors flying around. His Honor was out of town; but on landing at our railroad station, and finding patrol cars drawn up at City Park, saw, in that crowd's midst, a tiny girl, of about six, with a bunch of big shouting officials, asking:-"Who took that baby?"

"Did you do it?"

"Which way did it go?"

"How long ago did you miss it?" "Say, kiddo!! Why don't you talk?"

An adult brain can stand a lot of such shouting, but a baby's is not in that class; so, totally dumb, and shaking with fright, this tot stood, thumb in mouth, and two big brown baby orbs just starting to grow moist, as His Honor, pushing in, said:-

"Wait a bit!!" and that bunch in uniform, knowing him, got up and Gadsby sat down on a rock, saying:-

"You can't find out a thing from a young child by such hard, gruff ways. This tiny lady is almost in a slump. Now, just start this crowd moving. I know a bit about Youth."

"That's right," said a big, husky patrolman. "If anybody living knows kids, it's you, sir." So, as things got around to normal, His Honor, now sitting flat on City Park's smooth lawn, said, jovially:-"Hulloa"

A big gulping sob in a tiny bosom—didn't gulp; and a grin ran around a small mouth, as our young lady said:-

"So many big cops! O-o-o! I got afraid!"

"I know, darling; but no big cops will shout at you now. I don't shout at tiny girls, do I?" "No, sir; but if folks do shout, I go all woozy."

"Woozy? Woozy? Ha, ha! I'll look that up in a big book. But what's all this fuss about? Is it about a baby?"

A vigorous nodding of a bunch of brown curls.

"What? Fussing about a baby? A baby is too small to fuss about."

"O-o-o-o! It isn't!!"

"No?"

"No, sir. I fuss about my dolly, an' it's not half so big as a baby."

"That's so. Girls do fuss about dolls. My girls did."

"How many dolls has your girls got?"

"Ha, ha! Not any, now. My girls all got grown up and big."

During this calm, happy talk, a patrolman, coming up, said:-"Shall I stick around, Your Honor? Any kidnapping facts?"

"I don't know, just now. Wait around about an hour, and drop in again."

So His Honor, Mayor of Branton Hills, and Childhood sat on that grassy lawn; a tiny tot making daisy chains, grass rings, and thrilling at Gadsby's story of how a boy, known as Jack, had to climb a big, big tall stalk to kill an awfully ugly giant. Finally Gadsby said:-"I thought you had a baby playing with you."

"I did."

"Huh, it isn't playing now. Did it fly away?"

"Oho! No! A baby can't fly!"

"No. That's right. But how could a baby go away from you without your knowing it?"

"It didn't. I did know it."

Now, many may think that His Honor would thrill at this information; but Gadsby didn't. So, "playing around" for a bit, His Honor finally said: —

"I wish I had a baby to play with, right now!"

"You can."

"Can I? How?"

With a tiny hand on baby lips, our small lady said:-

"Go look in that lilac arbor; but go soft! I think it's snoozing."

And Gadsby, going to that arbor, got a frightful shock; for it was Lillian, Nancy's baby! Not having known of this "kidnapping" as his family couldn't find him by phoning, it was a shock; for His Honor was thinking of that young woman collapsing. So, upon that patrolman coming back, as told, Gadsby said:-

"Go and call up your station, quickly! Say that I want your Captain to notify my folks that Lillian is all right."

"Good gosh, Your Honor!! Is this tot your grandchild?"

"Grandchild or no grandchild, you dash to that box!!"

And so, again, John Gadsby, Champion of Youth, had shown officialdom that a child's brain and that of an adult vary as do a gigantic oak and its tiny acorn.

MOST OF GADSBY's old Organization of Youth was still in town, though, as you know, grown up. So, on a Spring day, all of its forty boys and as many girls got most mystifying cards, saying: —

"Kindly go to Lilac Hill on May sixth, at four o'clock. IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT" That was all. Not a word to show its origin. No handwriting. Just a small, plain card in ordinary printing.