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<h2><SPAN class="pagenum" name="Page_249" title="249"> </SPAN> <SPAN name="XL" id="XL"></SPAN>XL</h2> <p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Six months from that</span> day upon which old Mars, God of War, had angrily thrown down his cannons, tanks, gas-bombs and so on, fuming at Man's inability to "stand up to it," Gadsby's mansion was dark again. Not totally dark; just his parlor lamp, and a light or two in halls and on stairways. And so this history found Nancy and Kathlyn out on that moon-lit porch; Nancy sobbing, fighting it off, and sobbing again. Tall, studious, loving Kathlyn, sitting fondly by Nancy's tiny form, said;—</p> <p>"Now, sis; I wouldn't cry so much, for I don't think that conditions, just now, call for it."</p> <p>"B-b-b-but I'd stop if I could, wouldn't I?" and poor Nancy was sobbing again. "Now, <em>wait!</em>" and Kathlyn, uncommonly cross, vigorously shook Nancy's arm. "You can't gain a <em>thing</em> this way. Mama is probably all right. Oh, is that you, Daddy?"</p> <p>His Honor sat down by his two girls. Gadsby was not looking good. Black rings around his always laughing orbs; a hard cast to that jovial mouth; a gray hair or two, cropping up amongst his wavy brown. But Gadsby was not old. Oh, no;<SPAN class="pagenum" name="Page_250" title="250"> </SPAN> far from it. Still, that stoop in walking; that odd, limp slump in sitting; that toning down in joviality, had, for six months past, had all Branton Hills sympathizing with its popular Mayor.</p> <p class="center stars"><strong>* * * *</strong></p> <p>Days; days; days! And, oh! that <em>tough</em> part,—nights, nights, nights! Nights of two young chaps, in full clothing, only just napping on a parlor couch. Nights of two girls nodding in chairs in a dimly,—oh, <em>so</em> dimly a lit room.</p> <p>It got around almost to Christmas, only a fortnight to that happy day; but,—happy in Gadsby's mansion? Finally Frank took a hand:—</p> <p>"Now, kid, <em>do</em> try to stop this crying! You know I'm not scolding you, darling, but, you <em>just can't</em> go on this way; and <em>that's that!</em>"</p> <p>"I'm trying <em>so</em> hard, hubby!"</p> <p>Now Nancy was of that good, sturdy old Colonial stock of His Honor and Lady Gadsby; and so, as Christmas was approaching, and many a bunch of holly hung in Broadway's big windows, and as many a Salvation Army Santa Claus stood at its curbs, Nancy's constitution won out; but a badly worn young lady was in and out of Gadsby's mansion daily; bringing baby Lillian to kiss Grandma,<SPAN class="pagenum" name="Page_251" title="251"> </SPAN> and riding back with Frank at about six o'clock.</p> <p class="center stars"><strong>* * * *</strong></p> <p>Old Doctor Wilkins, coming in on a cool, sharp night, found His Honor, Nancy, Kathlyn, Bill, Julius, Lucy, Mary, Frank and John all in that big parlor.</p> <p>"Now, you bunch, it's up to you. Lady Gadsby will pull through all right," (Nancy rushing wildly to kiss him!) "it hangs now upon good nursing; and I know you will furnish that. And I will say without a wisp of a doubt, that a calm, happy room; not too many around; and—and—hmmm!! Julius, can't you hunt around in our woods that you and Kathlyn know so thoroughly, and find a tall, straight young fir; cut it down, rig it up with lights and a lot of shiny stuff; stand it up in your Ma's room, and——"</p> <p class="center stars"><strong>* * * *</strong></p> <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry pb1"> <div class="stanza"> <div class="line">'Tis a night, almost Christmas,</div> <div class="line">And all through that room</div> <div class="line">A warm joy is stirring;</div> <div class="line">No sign of a gloom.</div> <SPAN class="pagenum" name="Page_252" title="252"> </SPAN><div class="line">And "Ma," sitting up,</div> <div class="line">In gay gown, and cap,</div> <div class="line">No, no! Will <em>not</em> start</div> <div class="line">On a long wintry nap!</div> <div class="line">For, out on that lawn</div> <div class="line">A group of girls stand;</div> <div class="line">A group singing carols</div> <div class="line">With part of our Band.</div> <div class="line">And that moon, in full vigor,</div> <div class="line">Was lustrous; and lo!</div> <div class="line"><em>Our Lady is singing!</em></div> <div class="line">Aha, <em>now</em> I know</div> <div class="line">That Nancy and Kathlyn</div> <div class="line">And Julius and Bill</div> <div class="line">And also His Honor,</div> <div class="line">Will sing with a will!</div> <div class="line">And Old Doctor Wilkins</div> <div class="line">Amidst it all stands;</div> <div class="line">Smiling and nodding,</div> <div class="line">And rubbing his hands;</div> <div class="line">And, sliding out, slyly;</div> <div class="line">Calls back at that sight:—</div> <div class="line">"Happy Christmas to all;</div> <div class="line">And to all a Good Night!"</div> </div></div> </div> <p>Along about midnight a happy group sat around Gadsby's parlor lamp, as Dr. Wilkins was saying;—</p> <p><SPAN class="pagenum" name="Page_253" title="253"> </SPAN> "Stopping a war; that is, stopping actual military combat, is not stopping a war in <em>all</em> its factors. During continuous hard strain a human mind can hold up; and it is truly amazing how much it can stand. Day by day, with that war-strain of worry pulling it down, it staunchly holds aloof, as a mighty oak in facing a storm. But it has a limit!! With too much and too long strain, it will <em>snap</em>; just as that mighty oak will fall, in a long fight. Lady Gadsby will avoid such a snap though it is by a narrow margin."</p> <p>As this group sat in that holly-hung parlor, with that big cloth sign in big gold capitals; HAPPY CHRISTMAS, across its back wall; with horns tooting outdoors; with many a window around town aglow with tiny, dancing tallow-dip lights; with baby Lillian "all snuggling—so warm in a cot; as vision of sugar plums"—(and why <em>shouldn't</em> a baby think of sugar plums on that night, almost Christmas?); as, I say, this happy group sat around Gadsby's lamp, Mars, that grim old war tyrant, was far, far away. Upstairs, calmly snoozing on a big downy pillow, Lady Gadsby was now rapidly coming back again to that buxom, happy-go-lucky First Lady of Branton Hills.</p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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