As this story has shown, _Youth_, if adults will only admit that it has any brains at all, will stand out, today, in a most promising light. Philosophically, Youth is Wisdom in formation, and with many thoughts startling to adult minds; and, industrially, this vast World's coming stability is now, _today_, in its hands; growing slowly, as a blossom grows from its bud. If you will furnish him with a thorough schooling, you can plank down your dollar that Youth, _starting out_ from this miraculous day, will not lag nor shirk on that coming day in which old joints, rusty and crackling, must slow down; and, calling for an oil can, you will find that Youth _only_, is that lubrication which can run Tomorrow's World. But Youth must not go thinking that all its plans will turn out all right; and young Marian Hopkins found this out. Marian, you know, took part in our airport initiation. But Marian, only a kid at that day, has grown up--or half-way up, anyway, and just graduating from Grammar School; upon which big day a child "knows" as much as any famous savant of antiquity! But, as this story runs in skips and jumps, strict chronological continuity is not a possibility. So, Marian is now half grown-up. Now that big airport, as you also know, was just back of Marian's back yard; and as that yard was much too big for anything that Marian's Dad could do with it, it was put up for disposal. But nobody would go to look at it; to say nothing of buying it. But Old Bill Simpkins, past antagonist of Gadsby's Organization of Youth, did go out to look at it; but said, with his customary growl:-- "Too many aircraft always roaring and zooming. Too far out of town. And you ask too much for it, anyway." But Marian thought that Branton Hills, as a municipality, should own it; figuring that that airport would grow, and that yard was practically a part of it, anyway. So Marian, going to His Honor, as about anybody in town did, without an instant's dallying, "told him," (!) what his Council should do. "But," said Gadsby, "what a City Council should do, and what it _will_ do, don't always match up." "Can't I go and talk to it?" "_What!_ To our Council? No; that is, not as a body. But if you can run across a Councilman out of City Hall you can say what you wish. A Councilman is just an ordinary man, you know." But a Councilman out of City Hall was a hard man to find; and a child couldn't go to a man's mansion to "talk him around." But, by grand luck in a month or so, Marian did find, and _win_, all but Simpkins. On Council night, Simpkins took up a good,--or I should say, bad--half hour against Branton Hills "buying any old dump or scrap land that is put up. What was this city coming to?" and so on, and so on. And Marian's back yard wasn't bought. Now Youth is all right if you rub its fur in a way which suits it; but, man!! hold on to your hat, if you don't!! And Marian's fur was all lumpy. _Boy! was that kid MAD!!_