The Littleton streets were frothy with autumn mud, leached of frost by the day, farmers with their wagons and teams moving easily to the side to allow a sputtering churning flivver to make its own rough way. The big Packard went through the mud as if rolling over a lawn. Flags flew on staffs angled over the street every twenty feet. The opera house had a great swoop of bunting across its front for the event. It was filled with people dressed in winter clothing against the late-afternoon trip home. The building was overheated. People rasped with the dry air. Behind Jamie a man punctuated each segment of the ceremonies with wet blasts into a handkerchief. The choral society performed “Over There” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” A state legislator made remarks. No active-duty soldiers had yet returned to the north country but a veteran youth with a finely trimmed mustache and a slim cane made sly remarks about the Huns and Paris and the old home town. A lovely girl swathed in layers of a gossamer cloth with her hair piled atop her head and a silk banner of red white and blue sang the national anthem as the men removed their hats and strained to discern the shape of her breasts beneath the swathing. A reverend minister spoke a prayer for all who had suffered and died, for all those maimed and unfortunate, for the loss of homes and destruction of cities, for the boys on troopships coming home, for the mothers and fathers awaiting them, for the continued munificence toward the great nation, for the state of New Hampshire, for the people of the town and finally for the state legislator. As prayers went Jamie thought it was similar to those few others he’d heard: too long. Still his unease was gone. They went out into the falling dusk of midafternoon and the sharp chill and drove home toward the leafless mountains with the rose wash of sunset over them. Joey was ebullient, flushed. He watched her cradling Claire asleep on her lap. Joey saw him watching her and said, “That girl was lovely, such a pretty voice.” He thought I need to get her out more often. Figure out how to do it. She was too willing to allow the children to be an excuse. He thought, We can do it. It’s not such a big thing. Just some weeknight out. Go to the pictures for christ sake.