The concert made an attractive picture. The band was upon the lawn in front of the building. On the lower porch and in shady places about the grounds were groups of aged women. Their white hair blended softly with the dresses of grey and black, and soft fichus or treasured bits of lace were drawn about wrinkled necks by cameos and big brooches.
Mr. Wilkins conducted Mrs. Henderson to several spots from which to hear the music. They were rejected summarily by the fastidious widow on the grounds of ants below or spiders above and the general presence of bugs. Finally she made her own selection, confessing a suspicion of the presence in concealment of grasshoppers and the fear that the place was attractive to frogs and grass snakes.
Perceiving Hezekiah’s holiday attire and Mrs. Henderson’s manner, Mr. Vivian deemed them important personages and served them bountifully with his own hands. He was rewarded by hearing the widow tell her escort, “You can’t buy decent ice cream in South Ridgefield. It’s all adulterated and unfit for human consumption. The people who make such stuff should be put in jail for life.”
Hezekiah chuckled contentedly. “Why not chop off their heads?” he suggested kindly.
Mr. Vivian departed hastily.
From their position they could see Virginia moving busily about from group to group.
Mrs. Henderson indicated her. “There is a dear girl,” she said fondly. “It’s Elinor Dale come back again.”
“Virginia is very like her mother,” he agreed.
“Why did Elinor ever marry a man like Obadiah?” she sighed.
Hezekiah liked sandwiches. Particularly lettuce sandwiches with mayonnaise dressing. Mrs. Henderson’s question caught him unawares. “Wanted to,” he mumbled through his mouthful.