Excerpt: There was noise a-plenty in Triangle Park. From one side of the beautiful little club house sounded the ear-splitting squeak of swing chains. All the swings were going back and forth as fast as they could be propelled by a score of pairs of active legs and arms. A patient procession toiled up the ladder of the toboggan slide and sailed gloriously down the other side. Eight small boys and girls dangled from the rings of the Maypole. The sand piles at either side of the steps of the club ...