about that big show going up in front of that happy bungalow. Almost daily Lady Gadsby would drop in on Nancy, bringing all sorts of dainty foods; and His Honor, with Kathlyn, Julius and Bill, paid customary visits.
“But that fair!” you say. “How about that fair?”
Ah! It was a fair, I’ll say! What mobs on that first day! And what a din!! Bands playing, ballyhoos shouting, popcorn a-popping, “hot dogs” a-sizzling, ducks squawking, cows lowing, pigs grunting, an occasional baby squalling; and ’midst it all, a choking cloud of dust, a hot Autumn wind, panting, fanning matrons, cussing husbands; all working toward that big oval track at which all had a flimsy possibility of winning a million or two (or a dollar or two!). Oh, you County Fairs! You bloom in your canvas glory, annually. You draw vast crowds; you show high quality farm stock, gigantic pumpkins, thousands of poultry, including our “Thanksgiving National Bird”. You fill coops with fancy squabs, fat rabbits, and day-old chicks. You show many forms of incubators, churns, farming apparatus, pumps, plows, lighting plants for small farms, windmills, “bug” poisons, and poultry foods. And you always add a big balloon, which you anchor, so that kids may soar aloft
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