Ernest Vincent Wright-Gadsby_ A Lipogram Novel -CreateSpace (2011) (15 page)

Gadsby's mansion had no brilliant night lights, now; just his parlor lamp and a small light or two in hallways or on stairways. Only our Mayor and his Lady, now worrying, worrying, worrying; but both of good, staunch old Colonial stock; and "carrying on" with good old Plymouth Rock stability; and Nancy's baby, Lillian, too young to ask why Grandma "wasn't hungry," now; and didn't laugh so much.

Kathlyn got into our big hospital, this studious young lady's famous biological and microscopic ability holding out an opportunity for most practical work; for Branton Hills' shot-torn boys would soon start drifting in. And thus it was; with Lucy, Sarah and Virginia inspiring Branton Hills' womanhood to knit, knit, knit! You saw knitting on many a porch; knitting in railway trains; knitting during band music in City Park; knitting in shady arbors out at our big zoo; at many a woman's club, — and, — actually, knitting in church!! Finally a big factory, down by our railway station, put out a call for "anybody, man or woman, who wants to work on munitions;" and many a dainty Branton Hills girl sat at big, unfamiliar stamping, punching, grinding, or polishing outfits; tiring frail young backs and straining soft young hands; knowing that this factory's output might — and probably would, —rob a woman across that big Atlantic of a husband or son,—but, still, it is war! Gadsby, smoking on his ivy-clad porch, as his Lady was industriously knitting, said, in a sort of soliloquy: —

"War! That awful condition which a famous military man in command of a division, long ago, said was synonymous with Satan and all his cohorts! War! That awful condition of human minds coming down from way, way back of all history; that vast void during which sympathy was not known; during which animals fought with tooth, claw or horn; that vast void during which wounds had no soothing balm, until thirst, agony or a final swoon laid low a gigantic mammoth, or a tiny, gasping fawn! But now, again, in this grand day of Man's magically growing brain, this day of kindly crooning to infants in cribs; kindly talks to boys and girls in school; and blood-tingling orations from thousands of pulpits upon that Holy Command: 'Thou Shalt Not Kill,' now, again, Man is out to kill his own kind." And Lady Gadsby could only sigh.

AS THIS STORY HAS shown, Youth, if adults will only admit that it has any brains at all, will stand out, today, in a most promising light. Philosophically, Youth is Wisdom in formation, and with many thoughts startling to adult minds; and, industrially, this vast World's coming stability is now, today, in its bands; growing slowly, as a blossom grows from its bud. If you will furnish him with a thorough schooling, you can plank down your dollar that Youth, starting out from this miraculous day, will not lag nor shirk on that coming day in which old joints, rusty and crackling, must slow down; and, calling for an oil can, you will find that Youth only, is that lubrication which can run Tomorrow's World. But Youth must not go thinking that all its plans will turn out all right; and young Marian Hopkins found this out. Marian, you know, took part in our airport initiation. But Marian, only a kid at that day, has grown up — or half-way up, anyway, and just graduating from Grammar School; upon which big day a child "knows" as much as any famous savant of antiquity! But, as this story runs in skips and jumps, strict chronological continuity is not a possibility. So, Marian is now half grown up. Now that big airport, as you also know, was just back of Marian's back yard; and as that yard was much too big for anything that Marian's Dad could do with it, it was put up for disposal. But nobody would go to look at it; to say nothing of buying it. But Old Bill Simpkins, past antagonist of Gadsby's Organization of Youth, did go out to look at it; but said, with his customary growl "Too many aircraft always roaring and zooming. Too far out of town. And you ask too much for it, anyway."

But Marian thought that Branton Hills, as a municipality, should own it; figuring that that airport would grow, and that yard was practically a part of it, anyway. So Marian, going to His Honor, as about anybody in town did, without an instant's dallying, "told him," (!) what his Council should do.

"But," said Gadsby, "what a City Council should do, and what it will do, don't always match up."

"Can't I go and talk to it?"

"What! To our Council? No; that is, not as a body. But if you can run across a Councilman out of City Hall you can say what you wish. A Councilman is just an ordinary man, you know." But a Councilman out of City Hall was a hard man to find; and a child couldn't go to a man's mansion to "talk him around." But, by grand luck, in a month or so, Marian did find, and win, all but Simpkins.

On Council night, Simpkins took up a good, — or I should say, bad — half hour against Branton Hills "buying any old dump or scrap land that is.

What this city put up. Was coming to?" and so on, and so on. And Marian's back yard wasn't bought. Now Youth is all right if you rub its fur in a way which suits it; but, man!! hold on to your hat, if you don't!! And Marian's fur was all lumpy. Boy! was that kid MAD!!

Now, just by luck, March thirty-first, coming along as days do, you know, found Marian in front of a toy shop window, in which, way down front, was a box of cigars, with a card saying:

"This Brand Will Start His Blood Tingling." And Marian, as boys say, was "on" in an instant; and bought a cigar. Not a box, not a bunch, but just a cigar. Coming out Marian

saw His Honor and Simpkins passing; Simpkins saying:-

"All right. I'll drop around, tonight." And was Marian happy? Wait a bit.

That night as Gadsby and Simpkins sat talking in His Honor's parlor, who would, "just by luck," (??) walk in, but Marian; saying, oh, so shyly: —

"Just thought I'd drop in to chat with Nancy," and, on passing a couch, slyly laid that cigar on it. Now Simpkins, in addition to his famous grouch, was a parsimonious old crab; who, though drawing good pay as Councilman, couldn't pass up anything that cost nothing; and, in gazing around, saw that cigar; and, with a big apologizing yawn, and slinking onto that couch as a cat slinks up on a bird, and, oh, so nonchalantly lighting a match, was soon puffing away and raving about Branton Hills politics. Out in a back parlor sat Marian and Nancy on a big divan, hugging tightly up, arm in arm, and almost suffocating from holding back youthful anticipations, as Simpkins said:—

"— and that Hopkins back yard stunt! Ridiculous! Why, his kid was out, trying to find all of our Council to talk it into buying. Bah! And did I block it? I'll say I did! You don't find kids today laughing at Councilman Simpkins."

An actual spasm of giggling in that back parlor had Gadsby looking around, inquiringly. "No, sir!" Simpkins said. "No kid can fool Coun—"

BANG!!

Gadsby, jumping up saw only a frazzly cigar stump in Old Bill's mouth, as that palpitating individual was vigorously brushing off falling sparks as His Honor's rugs got a rain of tobacco scraps! Gadsby was "on" in an instant, noticing Marian and Nancy rolling and tumbling around on that big divan, and doubling up in a giggling fit, way out of control. Finally Simpkins angrily got up, viciously jamming on his tall silk hat; and Marian, fighting that giggling fit, just had to call out:—

"April Fool, Councilman Simpkins!"

(And Mayor Gadsby, on a following Council night, got Marian's land bill through; many a Councilman holding his hand in front of his grinning mouth, in voting for bright, vitalic Youth.)

WIDOW ADAMS WAS sitting up again, for it was way past midnight, and Virginia was out. Many months ago Virginia was also out, and was brought back, unconscious. So now Nina was again sitting up, for Virginia was not a night-owl sort of a girl. Finally, around two o'clock, Nina couldn't stand it, and had to call in a passing patrolman. Now this patrolman was an original Organization of Youth boy, and had always known Nina and Virginia; and said: —

"Oh, now! I wouldn't worry so. Possibly a bus had a blowout; or—"

"But Virginia said nothing about going on a bus! Oh!! How could that child vanish so?" Naturally, all that that patrolman could do was to call his station; and Nina, almost all in, lay down, until, just about dawn a jangling ringing brought this half wild woman to a front hall, shouting:—

"This is Nina Adams talking! Who? What? Virginia, is that you? What's wrong? What! You and Harold Thompson? Our aviator? You did what? Took his aircraft to what city? 'Why, that's so far you can't —'" but Virginia had hung up.

So Nina also hung up, and sat down with a big, long sigh:-

"My Virginia, not running away, but flying away, to marry! Oh, this Youth of today!"

* * *

Around six o'clock that night, Virginia and Harold stood arm in arm in Nina's parlor, as a big bus was groaning noisily away.

"But, Mama," said Virginia, sobbing pitifully, "I didn't think you would—"

"That's just it, Virginia, you didn't think!! But you should! How could I know what was going on? That's just you young folks of today. You think of nothing but your own silly, foolish doings, and you allow us old good-for-nothings to go crazy with worry!!" and Nina sank in a gasping swoon onto a sofa.

But old Doc Wilkins, arriving at Virginia's frantic call, knowing Nina's iron constitution from childhood, soon had that limp form back to normal; and, with a dark, disapproving scowl at Virginia, said:—

"Bring in a good batch of hot food, and your Ma will turn out all right," and going out, with a snort of disgust, and banging viciously that big front door!

AWFUL TIDINGS IN our Branton Hills' "Post," had so wrought up our ordinarily happy, laughing Sarah, who, with Paul abroad, was back, living again with old Tom Young, that Sarah, sitting on a low stool by old Tom's rocking chair was so still that Tom put down his "Post," saying:—

"Gift of gab all run out, kid?"

But Sarah had an odd, thoughtful look. Sarah's bosom was rising and falling abnormally; but, finally, looking quickly up at old Tom, Sarah said: —

"Daddy, I want to go to war."

"Do what?" If Sarah had said anything about jumping out of a balloon, or of buying a gorilla to play with, Tom Young wouldn't know any such astounding doubt as brought his rocking chair to a quick standstill.

"War? What kind of talk is this? A girl going to war? What for? How? Say!! Who put this crazy stunt into your brain, anyway?"

As you know, Sarah was not only charming in ways, but also in build; and, with that glorious crown of brownish-gold hair, that always smiling mouth and that soft, plump girlishly-girlish form, no man, Tom Young nor anybody, could think of Sarah and war in a solitary thought. So Sarah said, softly: —

"Last night, our Night School trio thought that our boys, so far away, must miss us, and Branton Hills sights; and Doris said, 'Branton Hills sounds.' And so, why couldn't our trio join that big group of musicians which is sailing soon? And, Daddy, you know Paul is in that army. I don't know that I could find him, but- but- but I want to try. And Kathlyn is talking of going as biologist with a big hospital unit; so possibly I could stay with it."

Tom Young was dumb! His "Post" actually had told of such a musical outfit about to sail; but it was a man's organization. So, now it has got around to this! Our girls, our dainty, loving girls, brimful of both sympathy and patriotism, wanting to go into that tough, laborious work of singing in army camps; in huts; in hospitals; singing from trucks rolling along country roads along which sat platoons and battalions of troops, waiting for word which might bring to this or that boy his last long gun-toting tramp. Singing in— "Aw, darling! Your trio was fooling, wasn't it? Now, girls don't —"

"Daddy, girls do! So, if our folks don't put up too much of a—"

"'Aha.'! Now you said a mouthful; if your folks don't! Darling, I'll say just two words as my part in this crazy stunt: 'Nothing doing'!! Kathlyn's work is mighty important; singing isn't."

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!

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!!"

As that army group was starting to march on, with this girl turning towards Gadsby, His Honor had to gasp, astonishingly:—

"Why! Mary Antor!!"

"Oh! If it isn't Mayor Gadsby! I don't run across you much, now-a-days. How is Lady Gadsby holding up during this awful war?"

All such family gossip passing quickly, Gadsby said:-"But this Salvation Army work, Mary? How long —"

Mary and His Honor had to walk along, as that big drum was now pounding a block away. During that walk Gadsby found out all about that vast void in Mary's bungalow following that fatal auto crash; and all about "two old maid aunts" as Mary said, who had all that pantry's liquor thrown down a drain and got cut, also, a day or two following; all about living now at Old Lady Flanagan's.