Now, many a fairy book has told, in glowing words, of childhood's joys and thrills at amazing sights; but _no_ fairy book _could_ show, in cold print, what Gadsby ran up against as that big door shut, and a child stood stock still--and _dumb!_ Two small arms hung limply down, against a poor, oh, _so_ poor skirt; and two big staring brown orbs took in that vision of floral glory, which is found in just that kind of a big glass building on a cold, raw autumn day. Gadsby said not a word; slowly strolling down a path amidst thousands of gladioli; around a turn, and up a path, along which stood pots and pots of fuchsias, salvias and cannas; and to a cross-path, down which was a big flat pansy patch, tubs of blossoming lilacs, and stiff, straight carnations. Not a word from Gadsby, for his mind was on that small bunch of rapturous joy just in front of him. But, finally, just to pry a bit into that baby mind, His Honor said:-- "Looks kind of good, don't it?" A tiny form shrunk down about an inch; and an also tiny bosom, rising and falling in a thralldom of bliss, finally put forth a long, long,-- "_O-h-h-h-h!!_" It was so long that Gadsby was in a quandary as to how such small lungs could hold it. Now in watching this tot thrilling at its first visit to such a world of floral glory, Gadsby got what boys call "a hunch;" and said:-- "You don't find blossoms in your yard this month, _do_ you?" If you know childhood you know that thrills don't last long without a call for information. And Gadsby got such a call, with:-- "No, sir. Is this God's parlor?" Now Gadsby wouldn't, for anything, spoil a childish thought; so said, kindly:-- "It's part of it. God's parlor is awfully big, you know." "_My_ parlor is awfully _small_; and not any bloss---- Oh! Wouldn't God----?" Gadsby's hunch was now working, full tilt; and so, as this loving family man, having had four kids of his own, and this tot from a poor family with its "awfully small" parlor,--had trod this big glass building's paths again and again; round and round, an almost monstrous sigh from an almost bursting tiny bosom, said:-- "I'll think of God's parlor, always and always and _always!!_" and Gadsby, on glancing upwards, saw a distinct drooping and curving of many stalks; which is a plant's way of bowing to a child. And, at Branton Hills' following Council night a motion was---- But I said Gadsby had a hunch. So, not only _this_ schoolgirl's awfully small parlor, but many such throughout Branton Hills' poor districts, soon found a "big girl" from Gadsby's original Organization of Youth at its front door with plants from that big glass building, in which our City Florist works in God's parlor. (P.S. _Go_ with a child to _your_ City Florist's big glass building. It's a _duty!_) XXIV