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Rh was actually boiling during this outburst; and, in a flash, as Simpkins quit, was up, shouting:—

“I gotta four bambinos. My bambinos playa in thatta park: run, jumpa and rolla. Grow bigga an’ strong. My woman say no coulda do thatta if playa all day on bricka walks. I say no buncha land sharks buya thatta Park!! How many you guys go to it, anyway? Huh? Notta many! But go!! Walk around; sniffa its blossoms; look at grand busha; sit on softa grass! You do thatta, an’ I know you not stick no building on it!!”

So, at Mayor Gadsby’s, Council did not ballot on Simpkins’ bill; and said it would go, as Tony thought only right, and “look atta gooda busha.”

In a day or two this pompous body of was strolling about that big park. No man with half a mind could fail to thrill at its vistas of shrubs, ponds, lawns, arbors, fancy fowl, small pavilions and curving shady pathways. As Gadsby was “takinga his owna looka,” Old Bill Simpkins, coming a-snorting and a-fussing along, sang out, gruffly:—

“All right; this is it! This is that grand patch of grass that pays Branton Hills no tax!”

But Gadsby was thinking—and thinking hard, too. Finally saying:—