There was hardly a dry eye in the Town Hall by the time the trio had finished their medley of war tunes. Many were there who could remember far back when the little village band of boys in blue had marched away with that same trio at its head, young Bide and Ezra at the drums, and Philly at the fife. When it was over and the stoop-shouldered old fellows went back to their benches, Cousin Roxy whispered to the Judge, and he rose. “Just one word more, friends and neighbors,” he said. “Mrs. Ellis reminds me. A chicken dinner will be served after the dancing.” The floor was cleared for dancing now, and Cady Graves took command. No words could quite do justice to Cady’s manner at this point. He was about sixty-four, a short, slender, active little man, with a perpetual smile on his clean shaven face, and a rolling cadence to his voice that was really thrilling, Helen said. It was the girls’ first experience at a country dance. They sat around Cousin Roxy watching the preparations, but not for long. Even Doris found herself with Fred filling in to make up a set. When the floor was full Cady walked around like a ringmaster, critically surveying them, and finally, toe up, heel down hard ready to tap, fiddle and bow poised, he gave the word of command. “Sa-lute your partners!” Jean thought she knew how to dance a plain quadrille before that night, but by the time Cady had finished his last ringing call, she was reduced to a laughing automaton, swung at will by her partner, tall young Andy Gallup, the doctor’s son. Cady never remained on the platform. He strolled back and forth among the couples, sometimes dancing himself where he found them slowing down, singing his “calling out” melodiously, quaintly, throwing in all manner of interpolated suggestions, smiling at them all like some old-time master of the revels. “Cousin Roxy, do you know he’s wonderful,” said Kit, sitting down and fanning herself vigorously. “Who? Cady?” Cousin Roxy laughed heartily. She had stepped off with the Judge just as lightly as the girls. “Well, he has got a way with him, hasn’t he? Cady’s more than a person up here. He’s an institution. I like to think when he passes over the Lord will find a pleasant place for him, he has given so much real happiness to everyone.” Last of all came the chicken supper, served at long tables around the sides of the hall. All of the girls were pressed into service as waitresses, with Cousin Roxy presiding over the feast like a beaming spirit of plenty. “Land, do have some more, Mis’ Ricketts,” she would say, bustling around behind the guests. “Just a mite of white meat, plenty of it. Mr. Weaver, do have some more gravy. I shall think I missed making it right if you don’t. There’s a nice drumstick, Dug.” “Had two already, Mis’ Ellis,” Dug piped up honestly. “Well, they’re good for you. Eat two more and maybe you’ll run like a squirrel, who knows,” laughed Cousin Roxy.