Henry turned, grinning in foolish happiness, on the young man in the frock coat who had not been asked to dinner.
'Walking up toward Simpson, Herb?' he asked.
'Me—why—no, I'm going this way.' And Herb pointed hurriedly southward.
'Well—so long!' said Henry, and headed northward.
The warm sunlight filtered down through the dense foliage. Birds twittered up there. The church procession moving slowly along was brightly dressed; pleasant to see. Henry, head up, light of foot, smiling easily when this or that person, after a moment's hesitation, bowed to him, listened to the birds, expanded his chest in answer to the mellowing sunshine, and gave way, with a fresh little thrill, to the thought:—
'I must buy a frock coat for to-morrow night.'