I've always sort of thought a plug
hat looked lonesome. Now I've decided that I'm wearin' the lonesome
kind."
He marched behind his niece and Mrs. Dunn up the center aisle to the
Warren pew. He wrote his housekeeper afterwards that he estimated
that aisle to be "upwards of two mile long. And my Sunday shoes had a
separate squeak for every inch," he added.
Once seated, however, and no longer so conspicuous, his common sense
and Yankee independence came to his rescue. He had been in much bigger
churches than this one, while abroad during his seagoing years. He knew
that his clothes were not fashionably cut, and that, to the people about
him, he must appear odd and, perhaps, even ridiculous. But he remembered
how odd certain city people appeared while summering at South Denboro.
Recollections of pointed comments made by boatmen who had taken these
summer sojourners on fishing excursions came to his mind. Well, he
had one advantage over such people, at any rate, he knew when he was
ridiculous, and they apparently did not.
So, saved from humiliation by his sense of humor, he looked about him
with interest. When the procession of choir boys came up the aisle,
and Mrs. Dunn explained in a condescending whisper what they were, his
answer surprised her a trifle.
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