CHAPTER IV
A NEW USE FOR A WATER HOSE
The motor-bus ran up Fifth Avenue, cut across to Broadway, passed
Columbus Circle, and swept into the Drive. It was a day divinely young
and fair. The fragrance of a lingering spring was wafted to the
nostrils. Only the evening before the trees had been given a bath of
rain and the refreshment of it showed in every quivering leaf. From
its little waves the Hudson reflected a million sparkles of light.
Glimpses of the Park tempted Clay. Its winding paths! The children
playing on the grass while their maids in neat caps and aprons gossiped
together on the benches near! This was the most human spot the man
from Arizona had seen in the metropolis.
Somewhere in the early three-figure streets he descended from the top
of the bus and let his footsteps follow his inclinations into the Park.
A little shaver in a sailor suit ran across the path and fell sprawling
at the feet of Clay. He picked up and began to comfort the howling
four-year-old.
"That sure was a right hard fall, sonny, but you're not goin' to make
any fuss about it. You're Daddy's little man and--"
A sharp, high voice cut into his consolation.
"Cedric, come here!"
The little boy went, bawling lustily to win sympathy. The nursemaid
shook him impatiently. "How many times have I told you to look where
you're going? Serves you just right. Now be still."
There was a deep instinct in Clay to stand by those in trouble when
they were weak.
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