“Why do you say ‘down’?” The contention in the Gleesons’ house rivalled the demonstration in the roadway.
Mutual apologies having been made the next morning—
“I spoke without thinking of what I was saying, my love.”
“I suppose, dear, I am too sensitive.”
—The great task came up before them to be tackled. Mr. Gleeson made a short speech to his wife on the subject, calling it a scheme for welding the village into one harmonious whole, and they were both gratified by this neat way of putting the case. One harmonious whole, echoed Mrs. Gleeson. One harmonious whole, he repeated firmly.
So the two set out, furnished with cards, to call upon residents; an undertaking the more necessary and excusable because residents had made no attempt to call upon them. They divided the task, arranging to meet two hours later and report progress of affairs, and meanwhile said farewell in an affectionate style outside the house; two little girls, looking on with a scandalised air, prepared to run off to tell their respective mothers.
“Good luck, dear,” said Mrs. Gleeson.
“Bon voyage, ma cherie,” he replied. They kissed again.
At the time appointed she returned with satisfaction and triumph announced on her attractive young features. Her husband had not arrived, and she strolled across to some children who were fixing wickets for a game; they drew the stumps and retired to another corner of the green.
“Shy little things,” remarked Mrs. Gleeson.