“Well … er …” Jem hesitated, sensing a ripple of laughter rising. “Perhaps not quite appropriate. But we may come to something. I propose shelving Mrs. Chapman’s thought for a later meeting.”

“Except,” Mrs. Webster intervened, “that if we build the bicentennial around a central idea, perhaps we should decide what it is now.”

“I never could understand that bird,” Miss Plummer said sotto voce.

“Yet,” Christina came down firmly, “it is, when you think about it, not a bad image for this town, is it? I mean, it has died several times and been reborn, and that’s the whole point—Erica’s point, I mean, and it might well be ours.”

“Could you explain, Mrs. Chapman?” Jem asked cautiously.

“Well, Willard began, like all these towns, as a congregation of small farms. Sheep and the manufacture of woolen garments from the wool brought in the first mills, but all that went before the Civil War, so the town had to find a way of existing. Then the war—and the beginning of the flow west, and the lack of manpower. And finally the summer people, who certainly helped the phoenix rise from his ashes, didn’t they?”

“It’s a most original proposal.” Jem held his pencil balanced horizontally between the palms of his hands. “May I just venture my thought about the theme of the bicentennial?”

Miss Tuttle gave one of her loud, unconscious sighs and began a new doodle, and they all resigned themselves to what would surely be long. It lasted interminably, but Mr. Webster saved the day by summing up the gist succinctly at the end.

“You are saying, Jem, that our emphasis should be on the good citizen.”

“Well … well … yes, I suppose that is what I had in mind.”

“What do you think, Jane?” Ellen had not spoken until now, but Christina recognized the edge in her voice. Time was oozing away and they were getting nowhere.

“I?” Jane Tuttle lifted her pale gray eyes in a dreamy look and smiled. “I prefer phoenixes to good citizens.”

“Bravo!” Mr. Webster called out.

Jem looked bewildered and sad. It had never entered his mind that there would be any real discussion. He had come prepared to lay down his plans and to have them accepted. It was disturbing to have time wasted by quite unnecessary argument at this point. So he turned now to Jim Heald, old crony and dispenser of balm. Jim’s solution was to go round the table, limiting each person to three minutes, and to ask for overall suggestions about the actual celebrations.

“Fireworks,” Miss Plummer said loudly. “We must have fireworks on the pond. The children will love that. It brings everyone together.”

“Yes, we could even have a phoenix in fireworks,” Mr. Webster said happily.

“One at a time, please. Mrs. Comstock is next.” Now that Jem was forced to listen, he was anxious to limit the speaker’s time.