Attendance at Town Meeting was not only a civic duty, it was an entertainment. Everyone who had heard about it came and nearly filled up the Armory. Mary sat near the back of the hall with Gwen and Tom and old Mrs. Hand. Charley Goss was sitting way up near the front with his two sisters. Mary saw Harold Vine, wearing his own clothes rather than a uniform, slip into the row behind them and sit a seat or two away from Charley. Philip Goss, as a member of the Finance Committee, was sitting at a long table in front of the stage with the selectmen. Alice Herpitude scurried into the empty aisle seat next to Harold Vine just as Howard Swan, the Moderator, lifted his gavel to call the meeting to order. There was a noisy pause after the opening prayer while more latecomers were seated, and Mary saw Rowena Goss turn around and radiate at Miss Herpitude. Rowena had her hand out showing Alice something. It was a ring, a giant ring on her left hand. So that was the way the land lay. Homer Kelly was handing out nice little pretty gifts in all directions. A nice spell in jail for Charley, with a pretty little electric chair at the end. A nice pretty ring for Charley's sister, Rowena. And a nice pretty stab in the back for you, my girl. Mary was horrified to discover that her eyes were filmed over with tears. Dimly she saw Homer bungle over a chair on the stage and sit down in his rumpled suit and ghastly tie with a group of other nonvoting observers. Through her head ran some bitter words of Emily's—finally no golden fleece, Jason sham, too. One of the other nonvoters on the stage was Roland Granville-Galsworthy. Oh, naturally. The lovely man was slumped down in his chair, his lower jaw drooping down.
Then Mary saw Mrs. Bewley, and she managed to cheer up. God bless thee, Mrs. Bewley, and thrice bless thy fur piece, Mrs. Bewley. Mrs. Bewley was sitting way up front. She was wearing her Clothe-the-Naked dress, and the sharp face of the squirrel around her neck looked clever enough to cast a vote of its own. Mrs. Bewley couldn't hear anything, but she voted both aye and nay on everything anyway.
After a few minor matters had been disposed of, the main article of the evening was moved and seconded. The topic at issue was not very controversial, but a few ex-commissioners of Public Works had objections to make or brilliant alternative solutions, and a few citizens opposed to any rise in the tax rate attempted to fog the issue, suggesting that the cost of the new pipe be laid at the town of Lincoln's door, since it was their dam which was at fault. There were speeches, amendments, motions and countermotions. Howard Swan untangled smoothly all the parliamentary snarls as they came along and moved adroitly toward a vote on the main motion. But then at the last minute there was an emotional speech from a member of the Save Walden Committee. If, he said, the town of Concord was gong to spend all that money anyway, why not use it to turn Walden Pond into a water supply, appeal to the State of Massachusetts to remove the shameful public bathing beach there, and vote at the same time to take away the trailer park and the town dump, thus restoring Walden to its original quiet beauty and creating not only an adequate water supply for the town of Concord but a true shrine to the memory of Henry Thoreau? There was a silence as the justice of this double-barreled appeal was taken in, then a burst of applause. A couple of citizens sprang to their feet to turn the idea into a motion. But the Moderator ignored them and swiftly recognized Philip Goss, who had merely nodded his head and raised an eyebrow. Philip rose and turned to address the town.
Mary had heard him speak before. But she had forgotten (she had forgotten!) how good he was at it. Dreamily she stopped listening to him and let his voice flow over her. It was a wonderful voice, liquid and smooth. Philip spoke in long polished sentences, with that aristocratic accent that stopped just short of Rowena's boarding-school affectations. "Aristoplatitudinous uppercrassmanship," that was what Homer had called it. Typical Kelly sour grapes.
Philip's melodious voice flowed on and on. He spoke of the generous offer of the town of Lincoln to lower the height of its dam, he mentioned the lengthy history of mutual benefit and good will between the two towns, he described the long and thoughtful consideration given to the matter by the boards of both towns, and explained the relatively inexpensive cost of the laying of the new pipe compared to the cost of any other solution, excellent as those solutions might be (gently laying aside alternatives). He praised the diligence and integrity of the members of the Concord Department of Public Works. He never said "I" or even "we." His verbs were always in the passive voice, and everything was "in the best interests of the Town as a whole." His audience was persuaded by his high tone, his logic, his sober thoughtfulness, his lack of obvious emotion, his role as an impersonal and perfect instrument of the legal arm of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, incapable of wrong opinion, utterly to be depended upon. Mary found herself staring at Philip in fascination, barely listening. This man had proposed marriage to her once. She had turned him down, then, without hesitation. But look at him! He could certainly weave a spell. That was all it was, of course, a spell. Mary felt sure that she could snap out of it whenever she wanted to. But not now...
The motion passed. Howard Swan called immediately for a motion to adjourn, and the meeting was over. Afterwards in the confusion of standing up and shuffling out there were the usual expressions of satisfaction with the results of the meeting and praise for the competence of the Moderator, whose efficiency had become legendary. If there were one or two who grumbled that their points of view had been overridden, their complaints were lost in the buzz of general approval. "Best dam moderator we ever had. Look at that—we got through the whole warrant by 9:30."
Mary found Alice Herpitude clinging to her arm. "Mary," she said, "what about Charley Goss? Do you really think the police are going to arrest him?"
Mary mumbled that she was afraid so. Miss Herpitude tightened her hold on her arm. And then her next remark suddenly rang out loud and clear across the entire hall. There had been a sudden rap of Howard Swan's gavel to bring order to the hall again, so that he could ask the knot of people blocking the entrances to move on out. But Alice, her frightened eyes on Mary's, her hands tightening on Mary's sleeves, failed to hear, and it was her voice instead of the Moderator's that carried across the room. "I've got to tell you something, Mary, I've got to..." Everyone turned to stare at her, and she stopped, her hand going to her trembling lips. Then Grandmaw Hand put her arm around her friend's waist and drew her away. Howard Swan made his announcement, and Mary looked around for Gwen. But instead of Gwen she found Philip Goss at her side. She turned hot and red. Had Philip seen something different in her face as she had sat listening to him? He took her hand and pressed it. He was offering to drive her home. Out of the corner of her eye Mary could see Homer with Rowena. Charley was sloping off towards the stage exit. Had Harold Vine seen him? Yes, he was ambling out that way, too. "I-I thought I might go home with Alice..." But Alice Herpitude was there, staring up at Philip, her eyes blinking rapidly. Then she looked at Mary. "Oh, no. No, dear. I just—I just think I'll go back to the library and do a little work there."
"Let me go with you," said Mary.
But Miss Herpitude was adamant. She plucked at Mary's sleeve and whispered in her hear. "Never mind. You young people run along. I'm going to write it all down, and then I'll give it to you in the morning. That's much the best way."
But after Philip had driven Mary home and stood in the starlight with her at her front door and gallantly refrained from attempting to kiss her good night (was she disappointed?) and after he had driven off again, Mary walked into the house and announced to Grandmaw that she was going back to the library to see what was troubling Alice. "I'll come, too," said Grandmaw.