XXIV
I am now going back to my saying that a city has all kinds of goings-on; both sad and gay. So, as His Honor sat on his porch on a warm spring day, a paragraph in Branton Hills’ “Post” brought forth such a vigorous “Huh!” that Lady Gadsby was curious, asking:—
“What is it?”
So Gadsby said:— “What do you think of this? It says:— ‘In a wild swaying dash down Broadway last night at midnight, past-Councilman Antor’s car hit a hydrant, killing him and Madam Antor instantly. Highway Patrolman Harry Grant, who was chasing that car in from our suburbs, says both horribly drunk, Antor grazing four cars, Madam shouting and singing wildly, with Grant arriving too tardily to ward off that final crash.”
Now Lady Gadsby was, first of all, a woman; and so got up quickly, saying:—
“Oh!! I must go down to poor young Mary, right off!” and Gadsby sat tapping his foot, saying:—
“So Antor’s pantry probably still holds that stuff. Too bad. But, oh, that darling Mary! Just got into High School! Not long ago Lucy told us of girls snubbing that kid; but I trust that, from this horror, our Branton Hills girls will turn from snubbing to pity. This account says that Madam Antor also was drunk. A woman drunk!! And riding with a rum-sot man at a car’s controls! Woman! From History’s dawn, Man’s soft, fond, loving pal! Woman! For whom wars of blood and agony cut Man down as you would mow a lawn! Woman! To whom infancy and childhood look for all that is upright and good! It’s too bad; too bad!”
As in all such affairs you will always find two factions talking. Talking about what? Just now, about Norman Antor. What would this wiping out of his folks do to him? Norman was now living with Mary and two aunts who, coming from out of town, would try to plan for our two orphans; try to plan for Norman; Norman, brought up in a pool of liquor! Norman: tall, dark and manly and with a most ingratiating dispositionif not drunk. But nobody could say. A group would claim that “this fatality will bring him out of it;” but his antagonists thought that “That guy will always drink.”
A day or two from that crash, Nancy, coming into Gadsby’s parlor, found Lucy talking with Lady Gadsby, Lucy asking:—
“Nancy, who is with young Mary Antor now? That pair of aunts wouldn’t stay, with all that liquor around.”
“I just found out,” said Nancy. “Mary is living with Old Lady Flanagan” and Lucy, though sad, had to laugh just a bit, saying:—
“Ha, ha! Old Lady Flanagan! What a circus I had trying to pry a zoo donation from that poor soul’s skimpy funds! But, Nancy, Mary is in mighty good hands. That loving old Irish lady is a trump!”