The band arrived and met with universal satisfaction, though Lafe Atwell
complained that he hadn't ever see a snare drummer with whiskers. But
their coats were red, with gorgeous frogs, and their trousers were sky
blue, with gold stripes, and the drum major could whirl his baton in a
manner every boy in town would be imitating with the handle of the
ancestral broom for months to come.... Through it all Scattergood Baines
sat on the piazza and beamed upon the world, and rejoiced in the
goodness thereof.
Only one resident took no part in the holiday making, and that was Old
Man Newton, who had closed his house, drawn the blinds, and refused to
make himself visible while the celebration lasted. He took a savage
pleasure in thus making himself conspicuous, knowing well how his
conduct would be discussed, and viewing himself as a righteous man
suffering for the sins of another.
In the darkness of the evening street Mattie Strong accosted Scattergood
that evening, clinging to his arm tremulously.
"Mr. Baines," she whispered, affrightedly, "he's come!"
"Who's come?"
"Mavin Newton--he's here, in town."
Scattergood frowned.
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