a distant point, a boy will grab it, and hurry it to its final goal. But that stamp will not hurry it as long as it is on that train.”
Our giggling girl, swinging in again, said:—
“What? With that stamp right on top?”
“How can it?” said our official. “A train can only go just so fast, stamp or no stamp.”
“Oh.”
Our boys and girls got a big thrill from this visit in back of that partition, and told Gadsby so. On coming out of that building our party saw a big patrolman putting a small boy into a patrol wagon. That poor kid was but a bunch of rags, dirty, and in a fighting mood. Our boys got a big laugh out of it. Our girls, though, did not. Young Marian Hopkins who had that fairy wand, you know, at our airport inauguration, said:—
“Oh, that poor child! Will that cop put him in jail, Mayor Gadsby?” At which His Honor instantly thought of a plan long in his mind. Branton Hills had a court room, a child’s court, in fact, at which a kindly man looks out for just such young waifs—trying to find out why such tots commit unlawful acts. So Gadsby said:—
“I don’t know, Marian, but I want you young folks to go on a visit, tonight, to our night court, to
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