JUMPING
“It’s time for jumping,” said the parson.
Everybody jumped.
Later, the congregation spilled outside, chatting and bustling to join the promenade flowing to the park. On arriving, the band members assembled and began to play. After offering three tunes one after the other without interruption, the bandmaster turned to address the crowd.
“It’s time for jumping,” he said.
Everybody jumped.
At the concert’s conclusion, the populace retired to the fairgrounds where the local nine engaged the neighboring town in a lively game of baseball. Along about the fourth inning, the umpire stepped in front of home plate and raised his arms to call for silence.
“It’s time for jumping,” he said.
Everybody jumped.
The day wended its way to a conclusion. By the way, the local nine prevailed, 8-5. At the boardinghouse, the landlady stood at the head of the table and made the expected announcement to her tenants.
“It’s time for jumping,” she said.
Everybody jumped.
And all through the town in every dwelling, high and low, similar scenes took place. Another day survived. Another day of the menace kept at bay.
Everybody slept.
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