Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"I am glad you are well," said the lady kindly; "but you may certainly
play in the park. It is meant for all little children. The gate is near.
Just walk on near this wall until you come to it."
It was only a few blocks, and they were soon in the land of their
hearts' desire, where were waving trees and flowering shrubs and
smoothly sloping lawns, and, framed in all these wonders, a beautiful
little water-lake all dotted and brightened by fleets of tiny boats. The
pilgrims from the East Side stood for a moment at gaze and then bore
down upon the jewel, straight over grass and border, which is a course
not lightly to be followed within park precincts and in view of park
policemen. The ensuing reprimand dashed their spirits not at all and
they were soon assembled close to the margin of the lake, where they got
entangled in guiding strings and drew to shore many a craft, to the
disgust of many a small owner. Becky Zalmonowsky stood so closely over
the lake that she shed the chatelaine bag into its shallow depths and
did irreparable damage to her gala costume in her attempts to "dibble"
for her property. It was at last recovered, no wetter than the toilette
it was intended to adorn, and the cousins Gonorowsky had much difficulty
in balking Becky's determination to remove her gown and dry it then and
there.
Then Ignatius Aloysius, the exacting, remembered garrulously that he had
as yet seen nothing of the rubber-neck-boat-birds and suggested that
they were even now graciously "hollering like an'thing" in some remote
fastness of the park. So Patrick gave commands and the march was resumed
with bliss now beaming on all the faces so lately clouded. Every turn of
the endless walks brought new wonders to these little ones who were
gazing for the first time upon the great world of growing things of
which Miss Bailey had so often told them. The policeman's warning had
been explicit and they followed decorously in the paths and picked none
of the flowers which as Eva had heard of old, were sticking right up out
of the ground. But other flowers there were dangling high or low on tree
or shrub, while here and there across the grass a bird came hopping or a
squirrel ran. But the pilgrims never swerved. Full well they knew that
these delights were not for such as they.
It was, therefore, with surprise and concern that they at last
debouched upon a wide green space where a flag waved at the top of a
towering pole; for, behold, the grass was covered thick with children,
with here and there a beneficent policeman looking serenely on.
"Dast _we_ walk on it?" cried Morris. "Oh, Patrick, dast we?"
"Ask the cop," Nathan suggested. It was his first speech for an hour,
for Becky's misadventure with the chatelaine bag and the water-lake had
made him more than ever sure that his own method of safe-keeping was the
best.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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