“Thursday—Friday. Happened to look in Friday morning as I was passing.”
“How was he?”
“Wonderfully cheerful considerin’. Tries to gammon his old mother, but I guess the old lady knows....”
“... he’ll never....”
“No, poor fellow. Wonderful pluck. Tells me he’s plannin’ a cathedral ... a cathedral, mark you ... and stone blind.”
Sally sighed a little and turned again to look at Jim. Aunt Gerty laid a white-gloved hand gently on the Mayor’s sleeve. “Ten minutes to eleven, Josiah. Won’t do to be late—you of all people. Will it Maria?”
LIII
MARIA and Aunt Gerty, carrying respectability to the verge of fashion, led the way by the path across the green to the village church. Josiah, walking with his daughters, followed ten paces behind. Wearing the tall hat of public life he looked imposing, but four and a quarter years of war had chastened him. The roll and the swagger were not what they were; four and a quarter years of incessant but fruitful labor for the common weal had molded his mind, had modified an aggressive personality.